“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be sensible and go to bed now. Don’t get up Christian—and don’t worry about my transport this time.”
But Christian did get up, as did his courteous father.
“Hope you’re soon well again, Fiona,” the older man said, reaching out to give her a warm but gentle handshake. This diversion gave Christian a couple of seconds to grab the leather chair from the shadows.
“Sit,” he insisted.
Fiona sighed with annoyance. “I can walk more easily now.”
“Yes, but how will you get undressed?”
“I’ll wriggle.” Her eyes challenged his.
“You’ll only hurt yourself. Sit down.”
“You needn’t think you’re undressing me...” She trailed off, realizing Christian Senior was listening—and watching with amusement. “I couldn’t stretch around to get my bra done up,” she explained, blushing.
He roared with laughter and strode across to her. “I used to be pretty good at this,” he chuckled. “Out of practice since Bet died. But let’s see...” He laid his palm on her back and tweaked one-handed at the fastenings through the fabric of her top. Her high breasts dropped fractionally.
“Still got the knack,” he said with delight.
“Dammit, Dad!” Christian protested.
“You’re as bad as each other,” Fiona said, trying not to grin. “Thank you, that’s very helpful. Good night gentlemen.” She sat, and Christian wheeled her from the room, but she made sure it was only as far as her bedroom door.
Her follow-up appointment was booked for ten-fifteen the next morning, and she washed and dressed in good time. Christian insisted on pushing her the small distance out to the car on his office chair, for which she was grateful. She’d had an uncomfortable night and her injured knee had ended up twisted and now ached horribly again. Jan had appeared in vivid and confusing nightmares, pale and sickly, ranting about the searing sex her sister and husband were indulging in.
In your dreams. Literally.
Fiona’s guilt had been terrible as she lay awake watching the minutes on the bedside clock tick over, but she flapped an annoyed hand at Christian when he attempted to help her settle into the car-seat.
“I’ve got to learn to do it.”
“You don’t have to be so independent just yet.”
“But I want to.”
At that, he stood back until she’d settled herself, then flashed her a strange sad smile as though acknowledging she’d made it politely plain she wanted no more attention from him. He closed her door, took his own seat, fired up the low-throbbing engine, signaled the gates, and drove out onto the steep road.
She inspected him from under her eyelashes as he guided the big car down to the city. He was casually dressed after yesterday’s impeccable business suit. Jeans again, a rusty-colored polo shirt, and with his dark hair still slightly damp from the shower.
Fiona had searched through Jan’s wardrobe and found a wine-red dress with a front closure of glossy buttons that looked for all the world like blackberries. As the price-ticket was still attached, she presumed Christian had never seen it on his wife. She’d managed to put it on unaided, but had forgone a bra, knowing the doctor would want to check her all over.
Sorting out Jan’s clothes and other private possessions was a job that needed doing sooner or later. Her mother had offered, but Christian had turned her down. “Not for a while yet, thanks,” he’d said with such firmness Rebecca hadn’t raised the subject again.
Fiona was secretly glad he still wanted reminders of Jan close to him. Somehow it proved the strength of his commitment to his lovely dead wife.
They coasted down the twisting streets until they reached level ground, then he slowed and turned the car into one of the angled parking spaces facing the sea.
“Plenty of time,” he said, looking straight ahead, feigning interest in two red tugs pulling a container ship away from one of the wharves half a mile away.
Fiona waited in silence, staring at his hands as they rested on the steering wheel of the purring car. Abruptly he cut the engine and turned to her.
“Look. About yesterday. It shouldn’t have happened.”
She nodded, still looking at his hands. Did he mean the morning or the evening? Or both?
Christian drew a deep breath.
“I loved your sister unreservedly. Even with all the traveling I did, I was never unfaithful to her.”
Fiona raised her eyes, surprised he’d been so candid. His hungry face looked haggard. She could see the torment etched there in the set of his mouth, and the lines where his brows drew together.