The Rest of My Life

by Sheryl Browne

  Adam’s mouth curved into a delicious, bone-melting smile. ‘Excellent,’ he whispered, folding her into his arms to kiss her thoroughly back.

  That should give the gossipmongers plenty of fodder, Sienna thought, as his tongue slid deliciously into her mouth to say good morning to hers.

  Adam kept jogging until he ran out of steam, finally grinding his euphoric run to a stop as he rounded the bend to the cottage. He’d probably crucified his quad and calf muscles. Adrenaline still pumping through him, he bent his head, clasping his thighs and taking deep breaths. He’d done it. He tugged in a slow breath and held it. He’d asked her out. And she’d said yes.

  Yesss! Bloody good! Punching the air, and then waving to some bloke who obviously thought he was a complete loony, Adam set off again at a jog, careless of his escalating heartbeat.

  She wanted to go out with him. He still couldn’t believe it. History, bad-news reputation and all, Sienna wanted to be with him. She was actually comfortable being seen in public with him, confirming it with a steamy, tongue-duelling kiss that had possibly given Nate apoplexy, judging by the stunned expression on his face. Peering out of the window of the cottage, Lauren’s expression had been a bit shocked, too, before she’d disappeared from view.

  She’d probably passed out in horror. Adam was sure she’d been about to keel over or self-combust when she’d come through the kitchen door last night to find him half-naked and up close to Sienna. Very close. Sienna’s fault. She’d insisted on spoon-feeding him the salvageable bits of the Bolognese sauce.

  Smiling to himself as he recalled how she’d also insisted on licking up any inadvertently spilled drips, Adam checked his mobile in case of last-minute changes regarding his meeting with Lily-Grace. Relieved when he found none, he made sure Sherry’s car wasn’t parked outside the cottage and headed up the path. He wanted to get in and out as fast as he could. He was sorry he’d got involved with her, sorry he’d hurt her feelings. He hadn’t set out to do that. He had hurt her, though. He’d obviously hurt other women, too, in the past. If only he hadn’t been such a self-centred bastard, too preoccupied with his own problems and needs, he might have realised it. He’d hurt Emily, too concerned with his own future to consider her. He could have made changes once they were married, applied for jobs elsewhere, rented a house under his own steam instead of being beholden to his father. He could have manned up and talked to her, before the wedding, after they’d split – there was a child involved, for God’s sake. Instead he’d turned his back on her, ultimately driving her to do what she had. Had she meant to? Truly meant to leave her child without a mother? Adam would never know the answer to that either. Yet, he knew she was sorry. Seeing her last night at Sienna’s, he’d felt the weight of her sorrow, and his heart had broken twice over: for the woman he’d once loved – and for the courageous woman he now loved, standing right beside her.

  Reaching the front door, he paused to fish in his pocket for the key. Maybe he should apologise to Sherry, he pondered. But then, the mood she’d been in when he’d last seen her, if he went anywhere near the farm in the foreseeable future, Sherry would probably be the one brandishing the shotgun.

  Still debating, Adam opened the door, stepped in and … oh, crap … found himself looking down the barrel of it.

  ‘Inside.’ Sherry’s husband fixed him with hard, uncompromising eyes.

  Jesus. Adam swallowed back his racing heart, which felt as if it was clawing its way up his oesophagus. He tried to think, to move, follow his inclination to run, but his legs refused to respond to his brain’s instructions.

  ‘I said, inside!’ The guy fumed, an angry bubble of spittle forming at the corner of his mouth.

  ‘Look, I’m not sure what your problem is,’ Adam tried, ‘but—’

  ‘Shut up, you little shit, and get inside!’ The guy seethed, raising the gun and bringing the butt of it down hard.

  Fuck! Adam sucked in a sharp breath as an excruciating pain seared through his shoulder.

  ‘Inside!’ The guy grabbed a fistful of his vest, as Adam’s knees buckled, twisting it around his hand and dragging him bodily in. ‘Sit!’ he snarled, shoving him in the direction of the sofa.

  Adam’s head reeled. His gut lurched. Righting himself on his feet, he gulped back a sick taste in his mouth and looked back at him.

  ‘Sit,’ the guy grated again, indicating his requirements with the gun. Panic knotting his insides, Adam glanced past him to the still open front door.

  ‘Don’t even think about it,’ the man warned him, his tone pure venom, his face tight with rage.

  Shit. He meant it. A trickle of sweat snaking its way down his spine, his heart thudding so loud he could hear it, Adam raked a hand shakily through his hair and did as requested.

  The guy watched him for an agonising few seconds, not speaking, not moving, the gun cocked and poised. ‘Not nice, is it, being assaulted?’ he asked eventually, his tone calmer.

  Adam swallowed repeatedly. He had no idea what to say.

  ‘My wife didn’t like it, Adam. That is your name, isn’t it?’

  Adam stared at him, stupefied. His wife …? Sherry? Assaulted? What the hell?

  ‘I asked you a question,’ the guy said, his tone still calm, chillingly so.

  Adam blinked back a salty bead of sweat. Which question was he supposed to bloody well answer?

  ‘Is that how you get them to comply, Adam?’ the guy went on, his steely-eyed gaze never leaving his. ‘Your renowned many sexual exploits?’

  Adam shook his head, bewildered. ‘I …’ he started.

  ‘By bullying them?’ the guy yelled, causing Adam to jump in his seat. ‘Forcing them?’

  ‘What?’ Adam stared at him, terror mounting inside him. He was going to do it. The madman was going to shoot him.

  Adam’s eyes flew to the kitchen doorway, and his stomach turned over. Another man blocked that exit. Arms-folded, feet splayed in a silent display of aggression, he was broader than Adam, taller than him, and from his expression he would take great pleasure in making sure he went nowhere.

  Petrified, Adam looked back to her husband. ‘I didn’t … I have no idea what—’

  ‘Quiet, Adam,’ the guy said, ‘if you know what’s good for you.’

  Jesus. Adam closed his eyes. Lily-Grace was all he could think of. He was supposed to be seeing her. He was going to let her down. He was going to fail to show up, and she would never know …

  ‘Sherry begged me not to do anything,’ the husband went on as Adam steeled himself for whatever was to come. ‘Me, I was all for shooting you, since you’re obviously illegally on my property. What I decided on, Adam, was a compromise. First we’re going to beat the crap out of you, and then we’re going to have the police come and pick you up.’

  Adam pulled in a breath and glanced back to the kitchen.

  ‘Tut, tut, where are my manners. Michael, meet Adam. Adam, Michael, Rebekah’s husband. I believe he has a score to settle with you, too.’

  That was it. He was dead. Or soon going to wish he was. Adam braced himself, as Michael moved into the room, and then prayed.

  Sienna watched Nathaniel approach the cottage over the book she wasn’t reading. She was trying to, but she had the attention span of a gnat. However hard she tried to concentrate, her mind kept sliding right back to Adam. The things he’d said to her. His own emotions obviously in turmoil, he’d sought only to offer her comfort, selflessly, caringly. The way he’d folded her into his arms; made such special, sweet, sensual love to her, as if trying to caress her pain away. The way he’d held her afterwards, his firm body pressed close, his arms tightening around her as he’d asked her out. He’d joked about it, as if it wouldn’t be the end of the world if she said no, but he’d stopped breathing for a second. She was sure his heart had stopped beating.

  He’d said it was rushed. Not in her book it wasn’t. If that was his version of a quickie, he could rush away with her any old day. Sienna smiled gloopily, then straighten
ed her face as she realised Nathaniel was regarding her curiously.

  ‘Morning,’ he said.

  ‘Morning.’ Sienna beamed him a smile.

  Nathaniel offered her a small smile back and then seemed to hesitate.

  Sienna waited.

  ‘So, it’s official then?’ Nathaniel finally asked. ‘You two are definitely an item?’

  ‘Most definitely,’ Sienna assured him.

  Nathaniel nodded slowly. ‘And you’re certain about this, are you, Sienna?’ He glanced down and back as Sienna regarded him questioningly. ‘I mean, I love the bloke to bits. He’s my mate, but …’

  ‘But?’ Sienna narrowed her eyes.

  ‘He has issues, Sienna.’ Nathaniel obviously felt obliged to point out, again. ‘I’m not sure he’s—’

  ‘I know he has issues!’ Sienna snapped. ‘You know I do, Nate. I thought you were on his side?’

  ‘I am on his side.’ He sighed and parked himself on a spare patio chair. ‘I’ve always been on his side, even when he was being a complete prat. I’m just concerned, that’s all; for both of you.’

  ‘Nate, I’m a grown woman,’ Sienna pointed out. ‘I know what I’m doing, honestly. There’s no need to worry about me.’

  ‘Do you, though?’ Nathaniel looked her over thoughtfully. ‘Could you really handle it if he couldn’t give up the booze, Sienna? If despite his best intentions, he couldn’t commit to one woman?’

  ‘You sound as if you expect him to fail.’ Bracing herself for yet another anti-Adam barrage, Sienna closed her book and parked it on the ground.

  Nathaniel blew out a long breath. ‘That’s the trouble, Sienna, I don’t know what to expect. Adam’s predictable in a lot of ways, but this is a new one on me.’

  Predictable meaning doing everything they expected of him, meaning he was ‘bad news’. But he wasn’t doing everything as expected, was he? He had stopped drinking, started running. ‘He is trying, Nate,’ Sienna reminded him. ‘You have to give him some credit.’

  Nathaniel looked abashed. ‘I know.’ He nodded, and mopped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve. ‘I know he is. It’s just … it’s early days yet. I’m concerned he’ll struggle with emotional commitment, I suppose, and end up letting you down. Then he’ll be off on one of his guilt trips and the drowning-his-sorrows and womanising thing will start up all over again.’

  ‘You mean it’s stopped?’ Lauren piped up through the open kitchen window.

  Sienna ignored her. ‘You sound like a mother hen,’ she addressed Nathaniel kindly.

  Nathaniel rolled his eyes. ‘That’s what Adam calls me.’

  ‘It’s nice,’ Sienna assured him, ‘that you care about him, I mean.’

  ‘Someone has to.’ Nathaniel smiled stoically and got to his feet. ‘The man’s a hazard to himself and everyone else.’

  ‘So everyone keeps saying.’ Sienna dropped her gaze and plucked up a strand of hair to fiddle with.

  ‘Sorry.’ Nathaniel shrugged apologetically. ‘I know you care about him, Sienna. It’s hard to be objective, though, when you’re …’ He paused, searching for the right word.

  ‘Shagging him,’ Lauren supplied.

  ‘I’d better get back to the chandlery.’ Nathaniel blushed purple and about-faced.

  ‘He’s a heartbreaker, Sienna,’ Lauren felt obliged to comment again as Nathaniel walked off. ‘I hope you’ve got your loins girded, girl, because he’s going to break yours sooner or later, mark my words.’

  ‘And you sound like my grandmother. Shut up, Lauren.’

  ‘Just saying.’

  ‘Well, don’t.’

  He wasn’t going to break her heart. He’d never hurt her intentionally, Sienna was sure. She wished people would stop predicting he’d let her down and being generally so down on him. You’d think they would at least try to reserve judgement. Retrieving her book, she glanced at her watch, aware that it was now a good hour past the time Adam said he’d ring her. He’d suggested they go out later. He had job-hunting plans he wanted to tell her about, he’d said. He wasn’t sure what time he’d be back, but he’d give her a ring to confirm. Strange that he hadn’t.

  Chapter Twelve

  ‘Blimey, he’s a bit of mess, isn’t he?’ Adam heard one of the officers addressing James.

  ‘He broke into my property. I was using reasonable force to protect myself,’ James pointed out irritably. ‘Are you going to sympathise with him, or arrest him?’

  ‘Better get him down to the station, Steve,’ the same officer said, presumably to his partner. Adam didn’t look up as the officers walked across to him.

  ‘Adam Hamilton-Shaw, we are legally obliged to inform you that we are arresting you on suspicion of breaking and entering with intent to commit a crime.’

  ‘Intent?’ James laughed scornfully. ‘The bastard bloody well attacked my wife!’

  ‘You do not have to say anything,’ the officer went on as his partner cautioned James to quieten down. ‘However, it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand, sir?’

  Adam swallowed and nodded. He was in so much pain he couldn’t have answered if he’d wanted to. He was still breathing. He supposed that was something to be grateful for.

  The cuffs hadn’t been necessary, the police had decided, when he’d been struggling to even stand up. Adam had badly wanted to run though, as fast and as far away as possible. Wasn’t about to go anywhere now, was he, apart from the cells probably. A shiver ran through him as he responded to the on-call doctor’s prodding, poking and questions with a nod or a shake of his head.

  He’d done it again. Adam sighed inside. Let everyone down. Nicole, little Lily-Grace, who at least wasn’t old enough to know he had – yet. Sienna, the only good, decent thing to have happened in his life in a long time. She should have run, should have avoided him like the plague. Would now, Adam was certain of that.

  ‘Is he done?’ the detective inspector asked, once the doctor had established he didn’t need hospitalising and had bagged up the various swabs.

  ‘All done,’ the doctor confirmed. ‘No strenuous activity, though,’ he addressed Adam. ‘The ribs are definitely cracked.’

  ‘Oh, I doubt he’ll be undertaking any strenuous activity for a while,’ the detective commented drolly, perching himself on the table to Adam’s side as the doctor took his leave.

  Too close. Adam felt suddenly very claustrophobic in the confines of the soulless interview room.

  ‘So, Mr Hamilton-Shaw …’ the detective said companionably. ‘Or should I call you Adam, God’s gift to womankind,’ his voice took on a mocking tone, ‘because you obviously think you are, don’t you?’

  Adam fixed his gaze on his hands in front of him on the table. He didn’t answer. After the kicking he’d taken back at the cottage, he wasn’t sure any answer he gave wouldn’t be a wrong one.

  ‘Seems you’ve bedded every woman in the vicinity, Adam,’ the detective went on, idly plucking a piece of fluff from his trouser leg.

  Adam flinched as a hand was slammed down in front of him, and then gulped back a hard lump in his throat as he felt the man’s breath inches from his cheek. Adam didn’t move. He didn’t dare.

  ‘Did you do it, Adam?’ The detective got suddenly to his feet and paced slowly around behind him. ‘Assault the man’s wife?’

  Adam closed his eyes.

  ‘Wasn’t going to take no for an answer, is that it?’

  The guy waited. Adam swallowed.

  ‘I’ve been doing some digging around, Adam.’ The detective walked around in front of him. ‘Seems you have a history of violence. Your brother wasn’t very happy with you, by all accounts. Your fiancée either.’

  The man paused, glowering down at him.

  Adam tried to concentrate on the simple act of breathing.

  ‘Couldn’t have been really, could she? Did you treat her with the same respe
ct you treat all women, Adam?’

  Adam tugged in a painful breath, and tried hard to still the flashback: Her eyes were open, empty; her spirit flown. No! He couldn’t do this.

  ‘Well?’

  Saying nothing, Adam tried to control his insistent shaking.

  The detective planted his hands on the table and pushed his face up close to his. ‘You either cooperate, Adam,’ he growled menacingly, ‘or you are going to be here for a very long time. Now, I asked you a question. It’s a simple yes or no answer.’

  Adam swallowed again, hard, and looked up at him. Her spirit … His heart jolted. Not flown. Here, still. Could it really be that she’d been waiting, watching, appearing more and more often, until he had to acknowledge he could see her? He could see her. He squinted hard past the detective. Indistinct still, but she was there. Emily. She was shaking her head. There was no sadness there, only … determination? He could feel it. It was right there inside him.

  Adam focused back on the copper, scanned his merciless, mocking eyes, and took a breath. ‘Can I phone a friend?’ he asked, deliberately flippant. He might be going insane, probably was. Whatever this ‘defender of the law’ did to him, though, he wasn’t going to give in. Not here. Not now.

  ‘Cocky little bastard,’ the detective seethed. ‘You really are a piece of work, aren’t—’ He stopped as the interview door opened behind him.

  Adam wasn’t sure if he should feel relieved or whether to brace himself all over again, as the duty officer came back in.

  Relieved, he supposed, as the detective switched to professional police mode. ‘I’m going to ask you some questions,’ he said, his tone detached, but borderline respectful. ‘You do not have to say or do anything if you do not want to. Do you understand, sir?’

  Having worried and wondered for several hours, Sienna finally decided to ask Nathaniel if Adam might have mentioned going on somewhere after his run this morning. He hadn’t spoken to Nathaniel before he’d left, but he might have rung him, Sienna supposed. She hoped he had, because the only place she imagined he might be was the cottage. That thought causing a flutter of uncertainty in her chest, she tapped lightly on Nathaniel’s open door and went on in. ‘Sorry to bother you, Nate,’ she said, ‘but—’