‘So you’re defending him,’ Jenna murmured. ‘But presumably his actions were witnessed and the photographer will testify against him? It’s a desperately sad story, but what defence can there be?’
‘I need to prove that there were mitigating circumstances for his behaviour, which was completely out of character. If Seb gets a criminal record his political career will be over. Some sections of the media act with complete disregard for decency. Just because Seb and Ellisa are in the public eye, they’re deemed a legitimate target for the tabloid press, and the law does little to protect their privacy.’ There was a harsh edge to Alex’s tone and Jenna shivered, glad that she would never have to face him in a court. He would make a formidable adversary.
‘It’s obviously a subject that’s close to your heart,’ she remarked, and he nodded.
‘Fortunately Ellisa and the baby are okay, but I sympathise with Seb. He was only doing what any man would do—protecting the woman he loves.’
‘Do I detect a streak of romanticism?’ Jenna queried lightly, aware of a curious pain in her chest at the image Alex’s fierce words evoked. How wonderful it must be to be loved and protected in the way he described. ‘I would never have imagined it of you, Alex.’
Alex shrugged. ‘Perhaps it is old-fashioned, in these days of equality between the sexes, but I would lay down my life if I had a wife and child to protect. I believe that marriage is a lifetime commitment,’ he added quietly, ‘especially when children are involved.’
‘You don’t think there are any valid reasons for divorce?’ Jenna queried, struggling to disguise the bitterness in her voice.
She too had believed in the sanctity of marriage—and she had done her best, hadn’t she? Had stuck with Lee when most women would have given up on him? But Lee had shared very different views from Alex’s, and love had been an illusion quickly shattered. In the end she had been the one to demand an end to her marriage, but Lee had walked away without a second glance and had taken little interest in his daughter. His sudden decision to renew contact with Maisie had come out of the blue, and she was suspicious about his motives for getting in touch.
‘Of course there are valid reasons for ending a marriage,’ Alex murmured, throwing her a curious glance. ‘And domestic violence must top the list.’
His fingers tightened round the steering wheel and he had to force himself to concentrate on the road ahead as he remembered the bruise on her forehead, the way she hung her head so that her hair swung across her face in an effort to hide the injury. She looked pale, her body as taut as an overstrung bow, and he wanted to pull into the nearest lay-by, stop the car and draw her into his arms. Something was seriously wrong with her marriage, he knew it instinctively, but he couldn’t force her to confide in him.
She was watching him now, her eyes huge and wary, and he knew she would hate him if he voiced his suspicions that her husband had hit her. It was nothing to be ashamed of, damn it, but she was fiercely proud and would never forgive him for intruding on her private life. All he could do was bide his time and hope to win her trust—but that in itself was laughable when he couldn’t look at her without wanting her.
The journey continued in silence, and Jenna stared unseeingly out of the window, lost in her thoughts, until Alex murmured, ‘Here we are,’ and she realised that they had turned off the main road and swung through the gates of a small private airfield.
‘I assumed we would be flying from Gatwick,’ she said in surprise. ‘Where are we, exactly?’
‘Elstree Aerodrome. I keep my plane here.’
‘Your plane!’ She didn’t know what she had been expecting—a uniformed pilot and a private jet, possibly. Certainly not the small twin-engine Cessna that Alex pointed out. For a moment all her worries about Maisie and her ex-husband were forgotten. ‘I’m not flying to France in that.’
‘I’m a fully qualified private pilot.’
‘I don’t care if you’re the Red Baron. I hate flying at the best of times, and that thing looks like an egg carton with wings.’
‘Jenna!’ It was amazing how much persuasive charm he could infuse into her name. His voice was as rich as clotted cream, the expression in his eyes warm and gently teasing as his bad mood evaporated. ‘I thought you were a brave tigress, don’t disappoint me now.’
‘Why a tigress?’ she stammered. Faced with his beguiling charm, she felt as daring as a jellyfish—and it had nothing to do with her fear of flying.
He shrugged his shoulders eloquently, seeming suddenly big and overpowering in a very small car. ‘You don’t seem to be afraid of anything. You stand up for yourself. You certainly give as good as you get with me.’