Til Death Do Us Part

by Beverly Barton

  A nurse and an attendant entered the cubicle. “We’re all set to take Mrs. Roarke to the fourth floor. Her room’s ready,” the nurse said.

  Roarke stepped back out of the way and waited until the attendant rolled Cleo out of the cubicle and toward the inside exit leading to the private elevators.

  “Give them a few minutes to get her settled in,” Dr. Iverson said, “then y’all can go on up.”

  Roarke heard Beatrice’s voice before he entered the waiting area. “She’s going to be just fine. But no thanks to one of you,” Beatrice said sharply. “I wish I knew which one of you is trying to hurt Cleo. I’d—I’d—” She choked on her tears. “I’d strangle you with my bare hands.”

  “Yeah, and I’d help her,” Pearl said.

  When Roarke walked out into the waiting room, all eyes turned to him. Dammit, the whole Sutton clan had arrived, swooping down like a bunch of buzzards waiting for their next meal.

  “What the hell’s going on out here?” Taking each Sutton in turn, Roarke glared menacingly, giving each a deadly dose of his killer stare.

  “How is Cleo?” Perry Sutton asked.

  “Do you really care?” Roarke had just about had his fill of Cleo’s bloodsucking relatives.

  “How dare you question my husband’s concern.” Oralie puffed up like a bullfrog. She titled her head and lifted her nose with a regal air.

  “Aunt Beatrice says that Cleo has a concussion,” Daphne said. “Is she conscious?”

  “Not yet,” Roarke said. “But Dr. Iverson thinks she’ll come out of this with nothing more than a bad headache.”

  “That’s good to know,” Marla said meekly.

  “What happened to her?” Trey asked. “When we arrived home, Ezra said that Cleo had had a riding accident.”

  “Yeah, she did.” Roarke paused, waiting to see if he could discern any type of suspicious reaction from Trey and the others. “I’ll wait and let Sheriff Bacon fill you in on the specifics of what caused the accident, but I will tell you that something spooked Sweet Justice and she threw Cleo.” Roarke looked meaningfully at Beatrice and then at Pearl, warning each silently not to reveal any specific information to the Suttons.

  Oralie gasped and clutched her chest. “Oh, how dreadful. I’ve warned Cleo and Beatrice about riding those beasts. I despise the smelly creatures.”

  “There’s no point in y’all being here,” Roarke said. “I plan to stay with Cleo until she’s released from the hospital. Aunt Beatrice, I know that you and Pearl want to see Cleo before you leave.”

  “We’d all like to see Cleo.” Oralie strutted over and stood directly beside Beatrice, slipping her arm around her cousin’s shoulder. “I, for one, will feel much better once I see for myself that she’s all right.”

  Beatrice eased herself away from Oralie and glanced over at Perry, then lowered her head and looked down at the floor.

  “Nobody’s going to go in and see Cleo except Beatrice and Pearl. Then I’ll send them home in a cab,” Roarke told the Suttons. “The rest of you can leave now.”

  “We have every right to—” Trey said.

  “If Mother wants to see Cleo—” Daphne spoke at the same time.

  “Let me make this perfectly clear.” Roarke’s voice was deceptively calm and steady. A steaming volcano raged inside him, ready to erupt with the least provocation. “Someone has tried, unsuccessfully, four times to kill my wife. And each one of you is on my list of suspects. So there’s no way in hell I’m going to allow any of you near Cleo until she’s fully recovered. Do I make myself clear?” He spoke the last sentence slowly, enunciating each word.

  “Well, I’ve never been so insulted in my life.” Oralie huffed indignantly. “Take me home this instant, Perry. I will pray for Cleo’s recovery and ask the Lord to remove Mr. Roarke from our lives. He’s been nothing but a heartless bully since the day Cleo brought him home.”

  Confident that he’d made his point to the Suttons, Roarke dismissed them from his mind. He escorted Beatrice and Pearl out of the emergency room waiting area and into the hall. While they waited for an elevator, Pearl put her arms around Roarke and hugged him.

  “I’ve been waiting a lifetime to hear somebody tell that bunch where they could get off.” Pearl grinned from ear to ear. “Poor old Perry’s too timid to control his own children, and Lord knows he’s never been able to handle Oralie.”

  “Perry does the best he can,” Beatrice said. “He’s far too gentle and easygoing for a woman as high-strung as Oralie.”

  “Yeah, you’re right about that.” Pearl glanced sadly at Beatrice. “What he always needed was a sweet, kind, loving woman like you.”

  The elevator doors opened and the three of them stepped inside. No one said a word during the ascent to the fourth floor.

  CLEO CAME IN and out of consciousness several times during the afternoon. Once she called Roarke’s name and smiled when he lifted her hand to his lips. He sat beside her bed waiting impatiently, his mind tormenting him with images of Cleo as her body gradually ripened with their child. As hard as he tried not to think of the child as his, he couldn’t change the fact that he had ignited that tiny spark of life growing inside her.

  Was the baby a girl? Would she have big blue eyes like Laurie’s? Would she have the same loud, ear-splitting cry when she was a newborn and wanted attention?

  Hell, what difference did it make if the baby was a girl? What difference did any of it make? He wouldn’t be around to see her, to hold her, to rock and sing to her. He’d never see her smile or listen to her laugh or hear her call him “Daddy.”

  He had to destroy any paternal feelings that he had, and do it immediately. He could not allow himself to take any interest in Cleo’s baby. They had made a bargain. And he intended to see that Cleo kept her word and set him free.

  She awoke in the late afternoon, coming fully alert by degrees. Roarke held her hand and watched her. She smiled at him.

  “Hi, there,” he said. “How do you feel?”

  “I’ve got a humdinger of a headache,” she told him. “What happened to me?”

  “Don’t you remember?”

  She thought for a minute. “We were going on a picnic, weren’t we? We went to the stables and… Something scared Sweetie. She threw me! Roarke, what…who…? Did someone deliberately spook Sweetie?” She lifted her head, then groaned when intense pain exploded inside her brain.

  “Don’t get upset, Cleo. Lie back and rest.” Taking her by the shoulders, he eased her down on the bed. “Dr. Iverson says you have a concussion, but no broken bones or internal injuries. You’re going to be fine.”

  Reaching out, she sought his hand. He grasped her hand, squeezing reassuringly.

  “I’ll lie still and be good,” she said. “If you’ll tell me what really happened.”

  “All right. If you have to know right now, then I’ll tell you.” He sucked in a deep breath, held her hand tightly and looked directly at her. “Somebody stuck four whoopee buzzers under Sweet Justice’s saddle, so that when you mounted her and put your weight on the saddle, the buzzers would give your filly a shock and make her go wild for a few minutes. Long enough, this person hoped, for Sweetie to throw you off. I’m sure the plan was for you to break your neck.”

  “When is it going to stop? When they’ve succeeded and I’m dead?” Jerking her hand out of his, she turned from him and buried her face in her pillow.

  “I know I let you down.” Getting up out of the chair, he stood beside her bed. “You could have been killed out there this morning. I had my mind on making love to you, instead of protecting you.”

  She turned around slowly, intensely aware of the pain in her head, and looked at Roarke’s haggard face, his bleary eyes and slumped shoulders. He was blaming himself for what had happened to her. She couldn’t let him do that.

  “Simon, this wasn’t any more your fault than the spiders in my bath towels or the poison in the tea Aunt Beatrice drank. There was no way you could have predicted any of those
things happening and no way you could have prevented them.”

  “You shouldn’t be staying in that house. Hell, you shouldn’t even be living in this town!”

  “What are you talking about?” she asked.

  “The danger is here, in River Bend. The Suttons are dangerous. One of them. Two of them. Or all of them. When you’re released from the hospital, I’m taking you away from here until I can guarantee your safety.”

  “I can’t leave River Bend. I can’t go away at a time like this, when McNamara Industries is in trouble. People are counting on me. I can’t let them down.”

  “Dammit, woman, don’t you understand that I can’t promise you that another one of these unpredictable accidents won’t happen? The person behind these accidents is covering his tracks well. The police haven’t turned up any real evidence against anyone other than your uncle Perry in the poisoning incident. And that evidence was circumstantial.” Sitting down beside her, he leaned over and gently grasped her shoulders. “You’ve got to stop worrying about everyone else and start worrying about yourself.”

  “You sound as if you want to put me in some sort of glass bubble and not let me have any human contact.”

  “If I could do that, I would.”

  She reached up and stroked his face. He pulled away from her caressing hand. “I promise that I’ll cooperate with you in every way possible,” she said. “No more horseback riding. No more risks of any kind. But I can’t leave River Bend. McNamara Industries can’t do without me. Not right now.”

  “Damn McNamara Industries!”

  “Roarke, how can you say such a thing when you know how much my company means to me?”

  “If you can’t leave your damn business behind in order to protect your life, then at least we can move out of the mansion and get you away from your ‘loving’ family.”

  “How will we ever catch the person or persons who are trying to kill me if I’m not available to them?” Cleo placed her hands over Roarke’s where they gripped her shoulders. “Moving away isn’t the answer. This isn’t going to end until either they kill me or we catch them.”

  Releasing his hold on her shoulders, he lifted her hands in his and held them against his chest.

  Hell, he knew she was right. But he didn’t want to admit it. What if this unknown assassin tried again and succeeded? What if, despite his best efforts, he couldn’t stop them?

  “No more horseback riding,” he told her. “At home, you’ll eat and drink only what everyone else does. I’m going to do a thorough check of our suite every time we leave and return. At McNamara’s, you’ll run everything from your office and won’t go out into the plant.”

  “I won’t like it, but I’ll do it,” she said. “I don’t want to be unreasonable about anything. It’s just that I have obligations that I can’t turn my back on, despite the risk I’m taking.”

  “Well, from now on you won’t be just putting your life at risk.” He released her hands.

  She spread her palms out flat against his chest. His heart beat wildly. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re pregnant, Cleo,” he said.

  “I’m… Already?” Instinctively she laid her hand over her belly. “Oh, Simon. It’s too soon. It shouldn’t have happened. Not yet.”

  “I know. I was hoping our would-be killer would have tipped his hand by now. But whoever it is, is taking his own sweet time. He’s not in any hurry because he knows he has a whole year.”

  Cleo realized that Roarke had misunderstood what she’d meant, although he was right about the fact that not only was she now in danger, but so was her unborn child. And whoever had attempted to kill her would want to see her child dead, too.

  But Cleo had meant it was too soon to have to worry about Roarke leaving her. He’d made it clear that he wouldn’t stay with her through the duration of her pregnancy. How soon would he leave and turn her case over to someone else? Surely he’d changed his mind. He wouldn’t leave her now, not the way things were between them.

  “Simon, you won’t leave me, will you?”

  “What?”

  “Just because I’m pregnant, you won’t leave me.”

  “No, Cleo, I won’t leave you.” Not now. Not yet. Not until I know that you and our…your child are out of danger.

  She smiled contentedly. “I knew you’d change your mind. Everything is going to be all right for you and me and our baby. We’re going to be so happy.”

  Now wasn’t the time to tell her that nothing had changed. That as soon as she was safe and they had her would-be killer behind bars, he was going to leave. There could never be a happily ever after for Simon Roarke.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CLEO DUG HER bare toes into the soft love seat cushions and lifted her knees. Hugging the cream knit afghan to her, she draped her arms around her legs. Alone in the solitude of her sitting room. Ah, home sweet home. But since Uncle George’s death this house hadn’t seemed like home. Not even here in her own suite did she feel perfectly comfortable. Knowing that a member of her own family had tried to harm her—four times—created a morbid air of suspicion and hostility. She didn’t want to believe that someone hated her enough to want her dead. But since Aunt Beatrice’s close call with death after drinking the poisoned tea and her own riding accident yesterday morning, she could no longer delude herself. Someone wasn’t just trying to scare her—someone was trying to kill her!

  Simon had wanted her to stay another day in the hospital, but since Dr. Iverson had said she would be as well off at home, she’d insisted on leaving. Simon hadn’t liked bringing her home, but he hadn’t argued with her about it. In fact, since their heated disagreement about their leaving River Bend and his announcement that she was pregnant, her husband hadn’t said much of anything. Every time she’d tried to talk to him about their marriage and their child, he had changed the subject.

  Yesterday, she had chalked up his moodiness to his fear for her life and his ridiculous guilt over not foreseeing the accidents that had occurred. She’d tried to tell him that he was a bodyguard, not a mind reader.

  Simon had stayed by her side at the hospital all night, sleeping in the chair beside her bed. Whatever she wanted, he was one step ahead of her, waiting on her hand and foot, with gentle patience. He had kissed her good-night and held her hand until she’d drifted off to sleep. And when she had awakened this morning, he’d been sitting there staring at her.

  Cleo knew that something was wrong, something that had nothing to do with the threats on her life or with McNamara Industries. Simon was worried. She hadn’t known her husband long, but they had become so close, so intimately connected, that she could sense the change in his mood.

  She wasn’t sure what was wrong, but she suspected the worst. Her greatest fear was that he hadn’t been completely honest with her when he’d told her that he wouldn’t leave her. She had assumed that he was beginning to feel for her what she felt for him. Maybe he didn’t love her—not yet. But she was certain that he cared deeply for her. Did he care enough to stay with her, to be a father to their child and a real husband to her for the rest of their lives?

  When she’d tried to broach the subject this morning, he’d cut her off sharply, mumbled something about getting Kane to keep an eye on her while he went out for some fresh air. A couple of minutes later, Morgan Kane told her that he’d be right outside her door if she needed him.

  Simon had been gone for hours. Something was definitely wrong. The massive oak grandfather clock in the hall struck twice. Cleo jumped. Her nerves were shot, and her husband’s mysterious need to be alone had increased her anxiety.

  She glanced at the lunch Pearl had brought up for her around noon. She’d taken a couple of sips of the iced tea, nibbled on the potatoes and taken a bite out of the yeast roll. The remainder of the meal lay untouched on the tray atop the round end table.

  She glanced up when she heard the outer door open. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw Simon enter. Kicking the afghan off onto the fl
oor, she stood up and walked to the open French doors that connected the sitting room to the bedroom.

  “Simon?”

  He looked at her, his face hard, his eyes cold. She shivered, apprehension spreading through her like wildfire.

  “You shouldn’t be up,” he said. “Go back and sit down and rest.”

  “Where have you been? You’ve been gone for so long I’d begun to worry.”

  “I’m sorry, Cleo, if I worried you. That’s the last thing I wanted.” He moved across the room, taking slow, cautious steps, as if he had to be careful not to come too close. “I just needed time alone, to think things through.”

  “What things?” Her heart raced madly. She clutched the sides of her satin robe.

  “You’re recovering from a pretty bad fall, and you’ve just found out that you’re pregnant. This can wait, Cleo.”

  “Wait until when?”

  “Until you’re better.” He turned around, removed his jacket and tossed it on the bed.

  She stood there in the doorway, looking at his broad back and his wide shoulders. He removed his hip holster and laid his Beretta on the nightstand by his side of the bed.

  “I want to know now,” she told him. “This mood you’re in is all about my being pregnant, isn’t it? About the bargain we made and the contract we signed when we got married.”

  “I said this can wait!”

  When she gasped, he turned sharply and saw the stricken look on her face. Dammit, why was she pressing him so hard? Why couldn’t she just leave it alone for now? He was going to have to tell her the truth; she was going to force the issue and make him hurt her. He hadn’t planned for this—for her wanting them to stay married. In the beginning, he’d been sure she’d be able to handle ending their marriage without any messy emotional displays. Now he wasn’t so sure.

  “You’re going to leave, aren’t you?” She looked at him, all the pain and disappointment showing plainly in her misty green eyes.