Truly Married (7 page)

He turned at the next corner and headed for the riverfront.

Fergus was well aware that Sharon hated his guts. So much so that she hadn’t even asked for him when she was arrested for murder. When she found out they were going to be joined at the hip for the duration of this case she’d be outraged.

He couldn’t blame her. It wasn’t going to be a picnic for him, either. As a matter of self-preservation he didn’t want to spend a lot of time with her. It could only lead to more heartbreak, and he’d had about all that he could stand.

She’d never forgive him for what she saw as his betrayal while they were married. There was no reason why she should. He’d have felt the same way if he’d caught her in the embrace of another man. The kindest thing he could do for her now would be to stay out of her personal life. To protect her from himself as well as from a false charge of murder.

He just hoped to God he was strong enough to do that and not give in to his overpowering need to hold her, cherish her and plead with her for a second chance.

* * *

Sharon felt wrung out, both emotionally and physically. As the car sped down the nearly deserted city streets her eyes felt glued shut, and her mind had shut down completely. There were a million questions she wanted to ask Fergus, but right now she couldn’t think of one of them. Either he was as done in as she was or he was being sensitive and understanding, because he must have as many questions as she did, but he wasn’t badgering her with them.

He’d gotten her out of jail and she felt safe with him. For now that was enough. Tomorrow she’d fight for her freedom, but tonight she just wanted to surrender to more of the tender, loving care he’d lavished on her while they were married.

He had loved her once—she was almost sure of that. So what had happened? She’d adored him, and was unstinting in letting him know how she felt. So why had he stopped loving her? What had Elaine offered him that she hadn’t? She’d asked herself these questions time and again over the years and had found no answers.

She must have dozed, because the car was stopped and two big hands cupped her head and repositioned it gently as Fergus’s voice murmured gently but distinctly, “Wake up, honey. We’re home.”

She opened her eyes and sat up. A quick look around convinced her they were parked at the curb of one of the downtown city streets.

“This isn’t home,” she said. “Fergus, where are we?”

There was enough street light for her to see his small smile.

“We’re in the valet parking area of the Adams Mark Hotel. You’re going to spend the rest of the night here with me.”

Chapter Four

S
haron woke up by degrees. Like a diver surfacing from the deep, she drifted through several layers of diminishing darkness until she gained enough control over her muscles to open her eyes. She found herself in an upscale hotel room, but not one of the Starlight’s.

Then the events of the previous day came back to her, and she groaned as she curled up in a ball and pulled the sheet over her head. Floyd Vancleave was dead, and she’d been arrested for murdering him!

Not that she hadn’t been mad enough to do the dastardly deed, but fortunately the idea hadn’t occurred to her. Instead, she’d walked out and left him furious with her, but alive and healthy.

Then Fergus had come to her rescue.

Just the memory of the shock she received when she walked into that interview room and saw him there made her heart pound and sent a tremor through her whole body.

He said Anna had called and told him she’d been arrested. She should be mad at her housemate for contacting Fergus without her permission, but after spending several hours in that jail cell, Sharon felt nothing but gratitude toward Anna for doing what Sharon had been too proud and stubborn to do.

So where was Fergus now? She shoved back the sheet and sat up, then saw her image reflected in the mirror of the dresser against the opposite wall. She was wearing only her panties and a man’s white T-shirt.

Dear heaven, where had that shirt come from? It must be Fergus’s, but she didn’t remember putting it on. Had he undressed her...?

No. No, of course not. Now it was coming back to her. She’d insisted on taking a shower before going to bed. After being in that jail cell she’d felt dirty all the way to her soul. Fergus had loaned her a shirt to sleep in.

A glance at the bedside clock told her it was 11:43 a.m. Her memory of what had taken place last night after Fergus had arrived was pretty jumbled. Apparently he’d been right about her being in shock, but she did remember that he’d brought her to his hotel instead of taking her home after she was released.

At first she’d objected, but then he’d told her he’d reserved a suite—a bedroom, and a living room with a pullout bed. She could have the bedroom complete with her own bath.

A wave of sadness washed over her. She should have known he had no intention of seducing her. He’d stopped wanting her a long time ago. Why else had he gotten involved with another woman? Even so, he’d been protective of her. A half smile tilted the corners of her mouth upward as she remembered how he’d even taken off his suit coat and put it around her when they’d entered the hotel so she wouldn’t be conspicuous walking through the lobby in her jail clothes.

Enough of this malingering, she thought, as she crawled out of bed and headed for the bathroom. She had to wake up and face Fergus and the mess she’d found herself in. He didn’t deserve to be kept waiting around all day.

Her ex-husband was a busy man, but still he’d apparently dropped everything to come all the way to St. Louis to try to pull her chestnuts out of the fire. The least she could do was stop feeling sorry for herself and cooperate.

After splashing her face with cold water to banish the last of the drowsiness from her deep slumber, she brushed her teeth with the complimentary toothbrush and paste in her bathroom, then put on a white terry-cloth robe supplied by the hotel and went looking for Fergus.

She found him in the living room, working at a desk. She vaguely remembered his saying there was a fold-down bed in there, but if he’d slept on it, it had already been put back into the wall, because it was nowhere in sight.

“Well, hello there, sleepyhead,” he said with a smile as he looked up. “I was just about to check on you again to make sure you were okay.”

Her eyes widened. “Again?”

He got up and walked over to her. He was wearing jeans, with a dark-green polo shirt open at the throat, and he looked relaxed and incredibly sexy.

“Yes,” he admitted. “I looked in on you before I went to bed, and again when I woke up this morning. I’m sorry if I invaded your privacy, but I was worried. You were in such a state last night....”

“I don’t mind,” she quickly replied. “That was thoughtful of you. I’m just sorry it took me so long to wake up. I don’t think I’ve ever slept so soundly before.”

“That’s not unusual for someone who’s been shocked as deeply as you have.” His warm, caring gaze roamed over her. “You’re looking much better this morning. Do you feel up to answering some questions after we’ve had something to eat?”

“Sure, I’ll tell you anything you want to know,” she said, “but I can’t go out for lunch without any clothes.”

“No problem.” He walked across the room and picked up some parcels from the floor on the other side of his desk. “Your friend Anna stopped by on her way to work and brought you the things you’ll need.”

Sharon was startled. “Anna did? But how did she know...?” Then her unreliable memory cleared again. “Oh yes, that’s right, we called her when we got here.” Sharon shook her head impatiently. “I seem to be having trouble remembering all the things that happened after I found Floyd...”

Her voice wavered and she fought back a surge of horror at the memory of Floyd collapsed in a heap on the floor, with a letter opener sticking out of his chest.

“You’re doing just fine,” Fergus assured her, and walked across the room. “I’ll put these things in the bedroom. I had coffee sent up earlier. It’s there on the bar, if you’d like a cup before you get dressed. There’s orange juice, too.”

At the mention of food Sharon realized that she was starved. “Yes, I would,” she said as she headed for the large bar area in one corner of the room. “I don’t think I’ve had anything to eat since breakfast yesterday morning.”

Fergus muttered an oath. “Didn’t they feed you in jail?”

She poured steaming coffee out of the carafe into a china cup. “I was just about to go for lunch, when the letter came,” she said thoughtfully. “Then the police questioned me all afternoon. I seem to remember a tray being brought to me in my cell later, but I was too sick and upset to eat.”

She took a swallow of the hot brew and savored it as it trickled down her throat.

“Drink a big glass of the orange juice there, too,” he said as he disappeared into the bedroom before he could see the face she made at him. He hadn’t changed a bit. He was still bossing her around, but somehow it didn’t bother her now.

* * *

Sharon was curled up in the corner of the black vinyl couch when Fergus returned, and his breath caught in his throat when he looked at her. She was sitting with her legs under her and the skirt of the terry robe draped over them, but the garment was too big and the bodice tended to gape when she relaxed her shoulders, revealing the top slope of her full breasts.

She had both hands wrapped around the coffee cup as she held it, and her blue eyes were unfocused while she gazed off into space. Her face was still a little puffy from sleep, and her lips were relaxed and slightly parted, as if waiting to be kissed. His stomach muscles clenched with the desire to oblige her. In all the years they’d been married he’d never seen her look sexier, and she was totally unaware of what she was doing to him!

What kind of hell was he subjecting himself to now?

He swallowed back a groan and switched his glance, and his direction, to the coffeepot on the bar.

After filling a cup for himself, he went over and sat down on the couch, too, but was careful to leave plenty of space between them. She smiled at him, and her face softened and lost the haunted look that had been so evident last night.

He tightened his grip on his cup, as if that could somehow prevent him from reaching out and taking her in his arms. His hands itched to slip inside that gaping robe and cup the firm round breasts he knew so well. He remembered the weight of them in his palms, the smoothness of her skin and the hardness of her nipples when he’d brush them with his thumbs—

The sound of her voice snapped him out of his erotic fantasizing. “How are your mom and dad, Fergus? Is your dad still practicing?”

Fergus’s father, Ian Lachlan, was a physician.

Fergus took a deep breath and tried to focus his attention on her question. “Well, yes and no. He sold his practice in Evanston several years ago, and he and Mom moved back to that small village in Scotland where his family came from. He’d planned to retire, but when he got there he discovered there was no medical care for miles around, so he opened a clinic. Now he’s busier than he was in Evanston, and he’s never been happier.”

“I’m glad,” Sharon said. “I always loved your parents. I’ve missed them.”

And what about me, Sharon? Did you ever miss me, as well?

Fergus clamped his mouth shut to keep the words from spilling out. He had no right to hope she’d been lonely for him.

“They loved you, too,” he said, instead. “Although it was too awkward to continue a close relationship with you after our divorce, they never really accepted Elaine as a daughter-in-law.”

Sharon frowned, and twisted on the couch to straighten up and put her feet on the floor. “I’m sorry about that,” she said, as she faced him. “And, Fergus, I’m so very sorry about Elaine’s death.”

Her unexpected sympathy took his breath away, and it was a moment before he could respond. “That...that’s amazingly generous of you—” he stammered before his voice broke and once more he had to fight for control.

“Not at all,” she replied softly. “I never wished either of you harm. Oh, I was hurt and angry, but I was never vengeful.”

Her voice shook, and he could tell that this was as difficult for her as it was for him. “Honey, I know that, but—”

She set her empty cup on the coffee table in front of them, then reached out and put her fingers across his mouth. The compassion in her eyes and voice was his undoing, and, no longer able to resist, he shifted closer to her so that their legs were touching.

“Please,” she murmured. “Let me finish.”

He nodded his consent, then put his hand over hers to hold it in place as he kissed her fingers.

She looked surprised, and her voice shook as she continued. “When I heard about Elaine’s sudden death I knew you must be devastated. I wrote you a letter, but then I realized it would probably not be appropriate for me to intrude on you at such a time, so I tore it up.”

Dear God, in spite of the anguish he’d caused her she still wanted to comfort him and help him bear his loss. It was incredible that she could be so forgiving!

Fergus was aware of the pressure of tears building up behind his eyes, and he blinked with the effort to keep them from falling. Dammit, he wasn’t going to bawl like a baby and make her feel even sorrier for him. Pity wasn’t what he wanted from Sharon. But it was hard to resist when he knew it was all he was going to get.

He wrapped his hand around hers and repositioned it to cup his cheek. It felt warm and soft against his skin, and he held it there while he fought to speak around the lump in his throat.

“I’m sorry you thought I wouldn’t welcome your condolences,” he said. “Actually, hearing from you would have gone a long way toward helping me to deal with a very dark and agonizing time in my life.”

Sharon was close to tears, and she could see that she was upsetting Fergus, too. Why was it that she couldn’t do anything right in her dealings with him? She’d only wanted him to know that she sympathized with him over the death of his wife, but all she’d done was reopen the wound and make him hurt again. She should never have started this. She couldn’t handle his pain as well as her own.