Carole Mortimer - To Marry Mccloud

Chloe clearly remembered from this morning the luxurious bathroom that adjoined his bedroom, the large round sunken bath that dominated the gold and cream room; yes, it was more than big enough for two people to share!

‘Just a thought,’ she dismissed.

‘To what do I owe the honour of this call?’ he prompted.

Your unthinking actions are threatening to destroy my father, my family, all over again! she wanted to scream at him.

But she didn’t…

‘I said I would ring,’ she reminded him.

‘And do you always do what you say you will?’ Fergus commented throatily.

‘I find it’s usually best to, yes,’ Chloe rejoined. ‘How did the golf go?’ she continued conversationally.

‘Brice trounced me,’ he answered with obvious disgust. ‘What did you do to me last night, woman? I hardly had the strength to hit the wretched golf ball this afternoon!’

She hadn’t done anything to him last night! At least, not in the way he meant. By the time she had driven him home, staggered up the stairs with him, got him undressed and into bed, he’d been out cold!

She laughed huskily. ‘Poor Fergus,’ she returned noncommittally.

She knew exactly what interpretation Fergus had put on finding her in his home, his bedroom, this morning. After her initial feelings of shocked dismay at the realisation, she had decided it might suit her purpose better if Fergus were to be a little unsure of himself where she was concerned. But, even so, she was not about to tell him an outright lie…

That would be reducing herself to the same level as the people who had already destroyed her father’s career once. And almost destroyed their family too.

Eight years ago her father had been a prominent member of the government, in such a strong position politically that he would probably have become the next leader of his party, and so, in time, the next Prime Minister. But it had all come tumbling down around his ears when one of his aides, a woman, had committed suicide.

Susan Stirling had been aged in her mid-thirties, unmarried, not even in a long-term relationship—and she had been four months pregnant at the time of her death!

The newspapers had gone wild over the story, making a big issue as to who the father of her unborn child could possibly have been. Chloe’s father had become the popular choice!

The scandal and speculation had rocked on for days, weeks—her father’s official, and private, denials of the affair meaning nothing to the press.

It had been a nightmare; all the family hounded wherever they had gone, and Chloe’s life at school had been made miserable as even she had been taunted with her father’s so-called indiscretions. But her parents’ marriage, thankfully, had survived the furore, her mother’s trust in her husband unshakeable. And neither Penny nor Chloe had ever doubted their father’s honesty for a moment.

But, finally, the Prime Minister of the time, with another election coming up some time during the following year, had been unwilling to let his government be shaken by such a public scandal, and had regretfully had to ask for her father’s resignation.

Her father’s place in his constituency had fared no better when the general election had taken place eight months later, her father losing his seat too as his opponent had used the unsolved scandal to his advantage.

Eight years her father had been in the political wilderness. Eight years!

And now, on the very eve of his attempt to restore his career, his campaign for re-election next year already underway, he was being threatened from a completely different source.

Whether he knew it or not, whether he cared or not, that source was Fergus McCloud!

And if it were humanly possible, Chloe intended stopping him!

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