Читать книгу To Marry Mccloud - Кэрол Мортимер, Кэрол Мортимер - Страница 8

‘CELEBRATING?’

Fergus didn’t even bother to look up from where he sat slumped in a corner of a noisy nightclub, staring down morosely into his champagne glass, totally removed from the loud music that played and the hundreds of chattering people that surrounded him drinking and smoking, and generally enjoying themselves.

What a stupid question; did he look as if he were celebrating?

‘Has no one ever told you that you should never drink alone?’

Damn, the woman was still here! Couldn’t she see that alone was exactly what he wanted to be? And how he intended on remaining, he mentally added vehemently.

‘Mind if I join you?’

Of course he minded—

Wow…!

The woman’s persistence had at least caused him to look up, the angry dismissal that had rapidly been gathering force inside his head coming to a skidding halt.

This woman—girl?—was absolutely beautiful!

Barely five feet tall, she wore an above-knee-length fitted black dress revealing a slenderness, giving the impression she might snap in half at her tiny waist. Her hair was a long curtain down her delicate spine and the dark colour of midnight. Her face was ethereally beautiful, totally dominated by the deepest blue eyes Fergus had ever seen, and edged with thick, smoky black lashes.

So she was beautiful, was his next thought. So what? She was also pushy and forward, something he definitely did not need at this moment. If ever!

He leant back in the padded booth where he sat, his appraising gaze deliberately insolent as it moved from her head to her toes, and then back to that delicate china-doll face. He frowned. ‘Are you sure you’re old enough to be in here?’

She laughed huskily, revealing tiny, even white teeth. ‘I can assure you, I’m well over the age of consent,’ she told him in a cultured voice.

He wasn’t aware he had asked her for anything! Couldn’t she see that he wanted to be left alone, that he had been sitting here on his own for well over an hour now, that he had spoken to no one, and no one—wisely!—had spoken to him, either?

‘Mind if I join you?’ she asked again, indicating the seat in the booth opposite his own.

Yes—he minded! Did this woman have the skin of a rhinoceros? Could she really not see that he just didn’t want to even speak to her, let alone anything else?

Obviously not, he decided frustratedly as, not even waiting for his reply, she slid smoothly onto the seat she had previously indicated.

‘Look, Miss—’

‘Chloe,’ she put in smoothly, her blue gaze very direct as she leant her elbows on the table before resting that tiny pointed chin on her linked hands, staring unblinkingly across at him.

‘Chloe,’ Fergus echoed with an impatient sigh. ‘I don’t mean to be rude, but—’

‘Then don’t be,’ she advised.

He had a feeling he was going to have to be if he wanted her to leave any time in the near future!

He sighed again. ‘This has not been a good day for me, Chloe—’

‘Maybe your luck is about to change,’ she murmured.

He didn’t want his luck to change!

He hadn’t been looking forward to the wedding today—after all, it was the second one he had attended in a month. First his Aunt Meg had married restaurateur and chef, Daniel Simon, and today—much worse!—his cousin Logan had married Darcy Simon.

Not that Darcy wasn’t a lovely girl, and he knew that she and Logan were head over heels in love with each other. It was just—he hadn’t realised just how deeply Logan getting married was going to affect him. Since childhood, it had always been the three of them: Logan, their other cousin Brice, and Fergus.

They had grown up in Scotland, gone to university together at Oxford, had all remained single for the last fourteen years, not living in each other’s pockets, but certainly enjoying the bachelor life when they had met. They had become known as the Elusive Three. Now there was only himself and Brice left. The Elusive Two just didn’t sound the same…!

His mouth twisted wryly. ‘I don’t think so, Chloe. Thank you for the offer, but—’

‘Would you like to dance?’ she suggested lightly.

He wasn’t even sure he could still stand up, let alone dance! The champagne had been flowing freely at the reception since the wedding ceremony this afternoon at three o’clock, and Fergus had definitely had more than his own fair share of the bubbly liquid.

When the party had begun to break up about eleven o’clock he hadn’t felt he’d been ready to go home to his lonely house just then, instructing the taxi driver to bring him here instead. But at least he had had the sense to realise he had better stick to drinking champagne; otherwise he knew he would wake up in the morning wishing his head weren’t attached to his shoulders. He still might!

He gave a heavy sigh. ‘What I would like, Chloe, is for you—’

‘Could I have some mineral water, do you think?’

He looked across at her darkly, wondering if she was ever going to let him get in a full sentence!

She smiled at him, and Fergus found his expression softening slightly. After all, it wasn’t her fault he was in a foul mood. A mood that meant the last thing he wanted was to be so obviously approached by a woman he had never even seen before. Beauty notwithstanding!

‘It’s only a glass of water,’ Chloe teased softly.

How right she was; he wasn’t capable this evening of providing her—or any other woman, for that matter!—with anything else.

Okay, one glass of bubbly water, he promised himself, and then she would have to go.

He turned to signal the waiter behind the bar to provide him with mineral water and another glass, taking the bottle himself to pour some of the liquid for Chloe.

At least, that was what he intended doing, but at the last moment his hand seemed to have a will of its own, shifting slightly, some of the water spilling onto the table. Hell, just how much had he drunk today?

‘Whoops,’ Chloe sympathised gently, before placing a tissue over the spilt water. She raised her glass. ‘What shall we drink to?’ she encouraged brightly.

‘Absent friends?’ Fergus returned morosely before taking a huge swallow.

Not that he thought Logan would ever stop being his friend, as well as cousin. But he just knew things would never be the same between them now that Logan shared his life with his wife.

The same age, thirty-five, the three cousins had always been more like brothers, offering each other broad shoulders during times of trouble. It was going to take some time to adjust to the fact that Logan now had Darcy as his soul mate…

Chloe was eyeing him teasingly. ‘I was always told that champagne should be sipped slowly in order to be properly appreciated.’

Fergus nodded tersely. ‘Whoever told you that was correct.’ Especially where a vintage champagne like this one was concerned! ‘I did try to warn you I’m not very good company,’ he glowered.

‘So you did.’ She appeared completely unperturbed by his taciturn mood. ‘Is it anything you would like to talk about?’ she encouraged softly.

Not to a woman he didn’t know, and didn’t want to know, either, thank you very much!

Chloe tilted her head thoughtfully to one side as she looked across at him, her hair taking on a blue-black sheen in the subdued lighting of the crowded nightclub. ‘You’re Fergus McCloud, aren’t you?’ she finally recognised appreciatively.

Fergus stiffened defensively. ‘Am I?’ he returned warily.

Was that the reason she had been so determined to speak to him? If it was, she was wasting her time; he wasn’t into literary groupies. Again, beauty notwithstanding!

‘Of course you are,’ she answered. ‘I’ve read several of your books, seen your photograph on the cover. You’re very good,’ she added warmly.

‘Thanks,’ he replied uninterestedly.

Chloe laughed. ‘But you aren’t impressed,’ she easily guessed.

‘Not really,’ he returned bluntly. ‘You see, I’ve read them too. They’re your standard thriller: a bit of mystery, a touch of violence, mixed together with a lot of sex!’

‘You’ve had six books published during the last six years, and each one has reached the number-one spot on the best-seller list,’ she corrected softly. ‘I would hardly call that “standard”.’

Now, in spite of himself, he was impressed! But the fact that she knew all that about him only convinced Fergus more that this woman Chloe was a literary groupie. Or worse!

He shrugged. ‘That just goes to show you that there’s no accounting for public taste.’

‘My, you are feeling sorry for yourself this evening, aren’t you?’ Chloe rejoined speculatively.

Yes, he was—so why didn’t she just leave him alone to wallow in it?

Getting to know this man had turned out to be much harder than she had imagined it would be, Chloe admitted inwardly.

For weeks she had been desperately searching for a way in which she might ‘accidentally’ meet Fergus McCloud, finally coming to realise that it was virtually impossible. The fact that he was so successful as a writer meant that he no longer practised as a lawyer, so he didn’t have an office to go to. His social life was sporadic, to say the least. The only thing she had been able to come up with, where she’d known he would definitely be in attendance, was his cousin Logan’s wedding today; after all, he was the best man! But as Chloe didn’t know either the bride or the groom, there was no way she could have gatecrashed!

Feeling thoroughly disheartened about the whole situation, she had accepted an invitation to spend the evening with a group of friends with whom she had been at university, going out to dinner before moving on to a nightclub. This nightclub. Chloe had hardly been able to believe her luck when, standing near the door with her group of friends and preparing to go on to somewhere else, she had actually seen Fergus McCloud coming in. Alone.

For a moment she had panicked, wondering what to do. Here had been her chance at last—and she hadn’t known what to do about it! But then she had forced herself to calm down, to think.

The answer had been obvious; she’d made her excuses to her friends, explained she had changed her mind about going on somewhere else, and was going to go home. But, instead, she had followed Fergus McCloud back inside the club, standing at a discreet distance away to watch him while she’d decided what to do next.

He’d appeared to be alone, but she hadn’t been sure whether or not someone, a woman, would eventually join him. After an hour, when he had drunk his way through one bottle of champagne, and ordered another one, she had decided that nobody would.

It was perfect, the ideal opportunity for her to at least have a chance to speak to him.

Except he had made it more than plain from the beginning that he didn’t want to talk to her.

Well, she wasn’t about to give up now!

‘How did your cousin’s wedding go today?’ she enquired conversationally, making no effort to drink the water he had poured for her; it had only been a way for her to delay having him ask her to leave.

Fergus frowned across at her, his good looks not in the least diminished by his scowling expression.

Chloe had known what he looked like, of course, but even so she hadn’t quite been prepared for the sheer physical force of the man. He was tall and powerfully built; there was no doubting he looked wonderful in his evening clothes. His dark hair was slightly overlong, his tanned face carved as if hewn from teak. Only his warm chocolate-brown eyes did anything to alleviate the hardness of his features.

Under any other circumstances, Chloe was sure she would find this man excitingly attractive. Under any other circumstances…

‘I’m not sure I like the fact that you seem quite so knowledgeable about my private life,’ he commented hardly.

That remark about his cousin’s wedding had been a mistake, Chloe realised belatedly, laughing softly to cover up the gaffe. ‘It’s hardly a secret that the business entrepreneur Logan McKenzie is your cousin. Or that he was getting married today.’ She shrugged.

‘No…’ Fergus conceded slowly.

But. He didn’t say it, but the word was there in his tone, nonetheless.

Chloe drew in a softly controlling breath. She wasn’t very good at this sort of thing, never had been. In fact, her behaviour this evening, approaching Fergus McCloud as she had, talking to him, inviting herself to join him, pressing him to provide her with a glass of water, was all totally out of character. Her friends and family would have been shocked if they could have seen and heard her! But she had been taken completely off guard by seeing Fergus arrive at the nightclub so suddenly, and had simply acted on impulse by inviting herself to join him. He certainly didn’t look in a mood to introduce himself to her!

‘It’s the society wedding of the month, Fergus,’ she chided him teasingly.

‘Hmm.’ He grimaced his distaste in recognition of that fact. ‘Well, to answer your question, it went well. Or, as well as any wedding can be expected to,’ he amended.

She raised dark brows. ‘You don’t like weddings?’

Once again he frowned across at her. ‘You aren’t a reporter, are you?’ he prompted suspiciously. ‘I’m not going to see my less-than-sober remarks splashed across the front page of a newspaper in the morning, am I?’

Hardly; she was no more enamoured of reporters than he appeared to be. They had already helped ruin her life once…

‘No,’ she assured him with certainty. ‘I was interested, that’s all.’

Struggling for a topic of conversation probably more accurately described it, she acknowledged ruefully. This was certainly heavy going.

‘Well, as I’ve already told you, it was fine,’ Fergus said abruptly. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me?’ He put down his glass, sliding over to the end of the seat in preparation of standing up. ‘It’s time I got myself a taxi home.’

Chloe stared across at him in dismay. He couldn’t go! She hadn’t even begun to talk to him yet. If he left now, she might never get the chance to talk to him again. This was—

‘Oh, hell—!’ Fergus McCloud groaned as, having attempted to stand up, he suddenly found himself sitting back down again. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply. ‘I don’t suppose you would like to do me a favour, would you?’ he asked Chloe very carefully, his eyes still closed.

Anything! As long as it meant he wasn’t about to just get up and walk away from her. Although, for the moment—thankfully!—he didn’t seem able to do that.

‘Yes?’ Chloe responded breathlessly.

He continued to breathe deeply, looking across at her with those warm brown eyes. ‘I seem to find myself temporarily unable to stand up. Actually, I’m drunk!’ he amended with forceful self-disgust. ‘Legless. Literally! I can’t remember the last time I— Yes, I can,’ he groaned. ‘It was when I graduated from Oxford fourteen years ago. I couldn’t get out of bed for two days afterwards!’

Her own graduation from university had only been a couple of years ago and, as she easily recalled, everyone had let themselves relax and had a good time; after three years’ hard work, they had needed to.

‘What would you like me to do?’ she offered.

‘Could you help me outside and put me in a taxi?’ He grimaced. Obviously he wasn’t a man accustomed to asking anyone for help.

She could do better than that, and it would suit her purpose much better. But she would keep that to herself for the moment…

‘Of course.’ She stood up smoothly, securing the strap of her evening bag on her shoulder before moving lightly round the table. ‘Just stand up and lean on me,’ she encouraged.

He eyed the slenderness of her frame with obvious scepticism. ‘I don’t think I had better “lean” too heavily,’ he observed. ‘Or we’ll both fall over!’

He was a good foot taller than Chloe, even in her three-inch heels, and probably weighed twice as much as her too. But she was stronger than she looked, helping him to his feet without too much difficulty, her arm about his waist, his across her shoulders as the two of them began to walk towards the exit.

‘This is so embarrassing,’ Fergus muttered grimly when they had crossed half the distance to the door without mishap.

Chloe turned to grin up at him unsympathetically. ‘Just think of it as practising for your old age!’

He gave a disgusted snort. ‘I feel a hundred now!’

He didn’t look it. In fact, he looked rather boyish, younger than the thirty-five years she knew him to be, his expression one of dazed disbelief at his own inability, dark hair falling silkily across his brow.

Chloe made no effort to put him into any of the waiting taxis once they were outside. Instead she helped guide him over to the green sports car in the adjoining car park, pressing the remote button on her keys as they approached to release the locks, swinging open the passenger door before helping him inside.

‘This isn’t a taxi,’ Fergus finally realised, looking around him dazedly, the fresh air outside obviously having done nothing to clear his head. In fact, the opposite.

‘No, it isn’t,’ Chloe confirmed as she got in behind the wheel to turn the key in the ignition.

Fergus looked ready to protest, and then thought better of it, leaning his head back weakly against the cream leather seat, his eyes once again closed. ‘Whatever,’ he accepted dismissively. ‘Do I need to tell you my address—or do you know that too?’

Chloe turned sharply to look at him. Had she given herself away so completely?

Fergus opened one eye at her lack of response. ‘Well?’ he prompted impatiently.

She gave a slight inclination of her head. ‘I know that too,’ she conceded huskily, accelerating the car out of the car park and into the flow of late night traffic.

‘Remind me, some time, to ask you how you know,’ Fergus murmured drowsily. ‘I have a feeling I’m not going to remember too much about this evening when I wake up tomorrow!’

Chloe sincerely hoped that wasn’t the case…!