His Trophy Wife

by Leigh Michaels

  A delightful honeymoon…yes, this morning it had looked like that. What a difference a few hours could make.

  “And Robert’s been getting impatient for me to come home, anyway.”

  “Who’s Robert?” Morganna said it only because it seemed to be expected of her.

  “The man I’ve been seeing. I told you about him.”

  “The one you said was stalking you? Mother—”

  “Did I imply that?” Abigail sounded faintly surprised. “I thought I said he was pursuing me, which he’s certainly been doing.”

  “You told me you came to Lakemont to avoid him!”

  “Well, yes, I did say that. It made a very handy excuse for coming up to check on you, and it wasn’t quite a lie, because I thought it was time to see how much we’d really miss each other.”

  “And did you?” Morganna asked feebly.

  “Of course, dear. Who do you think I’ve been talking to, all the hours I’ve been on the phone? Anyway, I’m so glad that everything is going to work out just fine for you and Sloan.” She smiled. “If he’s not coming straight home, I’ll use the phone in his library to get my ticket and tell Robert when to pick me up.”

  Morganna nodded. “Go ahead.”

  She knew she should correct her mother’s mistaken impression. But her own wounds were too fresh; she couldn’t possibly explain to Abigail what she hadn’t come to terms with yet herself. She needed a little time to sort out what she would say; there was nothing to be gained for any of them by telling Abigail that Sloan had set out to take his revenge—and succeeded.

  Soon Abigail would be back in Phoenix, and presumably occupied with…what was his name? Robert, that was it. So Morganna would have a little space to figure out how much to tell her mother and how to explain the way they sorted out the mess. Whatever it was they decided to do.

  She frowned. What was she thinking of? It would be a divorce, of course. What other option was there?

  Unless Sloan utterly refused to let her go—but that was impossible. He could no longer count on her sense of loyalty and fairness forcing her to keep her end of the deal, when he had betrayed her. She didn’t owe him anything more.

  Black misery descended on her. How perfectly ironic, she thought, that the thing she had longed for only a couple of weeks ago—freedom from Sloan—now looked so bleak.

  Once she had looked at the six-month history of their marriage and dreaded the thought of spending six years as Sloan’s wife. Last night, if she had been capable of thinking at all, she might have looked forward with pleasure to the hope of six decades with him beside her.

  In fact, she’d had just six hours of happiness. Six hours of dreaming that they might make a future and a family together. Six hours of thinking that she was important to him.

  Oh, she was important to Sloan Montgomery, all right, she thought grimly. It was just in a very different way than she had hoped for.

  Dusk had settled, the temperature was dropping, and the snow that had melted into the streets all day had frozen once more and formed icy spots. Morganna dropped her mother off at the airport terminal, and by the time she had carefully negotiated the drive all the way back across Lakemont, Abigail’s plane was halfway to Phoenix.

  Relieved to be back in Pemberton Place, Morganna parked her car in the garage beside the black Jaguar and went inside. The door of Sloan’s library was closed, and the house was quiet except for the click of flatware in the dining room, where Selby was setting the table for dinner.

  The dining table looked very big, with only two places set, and the idea of sitting there and making polite conversation with Sloan was more than she could bear. “I’m not hungry tonight, Selby,” she said. “I’m going to skip dinner and work instead. I don’t want to be disturbed.”

  His hands stilled, but Selby was too self-disciplined to betray shock. “Very well, Miss Morganna.”

  In her miniature room, she dug a knife deep into the block of clay, tearing off a corner. Rhythmically she kneaded the clay into malleability and began shaping the torso of a grandmotherly woman.

  She didn’t know how much time had passed when the door quietly opened. She didn’t look up. “I thought I made it clear that I didn’t want to be disturbed.”

  “I know,” Sloan said. “Selby told me.”

  Her fingers clenched convulsively, turning the half-finished figure into a lump of clay indistinguishable from the rest of the block.

  So here we are, she thought. This is the room where it all started—and this is where it will end.

  Sloan pulled out the other stool from her worktable and sat down. “Is that how you plan to handle this?” He sounded almost casual. “Separate lives under the same roof, just the way it used to be?”

  “Not quite the way it used to be,” Morganna said deliberately. “I had some respect for you, then.”

  She heard his quick intake of breath and braced herself. But he didn’t answer. Instead, a full minute passed before he said, “I’m glad about the figurines, Morganna. They’re good, and you deserve to be recognized for your art.”

  “It remains to be seen how successful I’ll be,” she said quietly. “But if I can, I’ll make sure you get back all the money you’ve paid out to settle my father’s debts.”

  His voice was taut. “Do you think that’s what I want?”

  “Oh, no. I’m sure you’d rather have left things just the way they were last night. Much more comfortable for you.”

  “Dammit, Morganna—”

  “Isn’t that what you wanted? For me to pay the price for what he did? Fine, I’ll pay—but this time I’m going to set the terms.”

  He slid off the stool and strode away. For a moment she thought he was leaving, but he paced across the room and back to stand beside her. “I know you said you didn’t want to hear this. But you’re going to listen, Morganna.”

  “I don’t know why you’d think I owe you that much courtesy.”

  Refusing to face things doesn’t make them go away. She’d told herself that just a few hours earlier. In this case, of course, dragging it all out wouldn’t make it go away, either—but he was right about one thing. She needed to know exactly what had happened. Exactly why they had never stood a chance.

  She shrugged and started to cut the block of clay into manageable clumps. “So if it will satisfy you, talk. Just don’t expect me to believe everything you say. You told me you didn’t even know my father—remember?”

  “I said I’d never met him, and that was true.”

  “True, maybe, but misleading. Which you intended, of course.” She worked a lump of clay loose from the knife.

  Sloan was silent for a moment, as if he was gathering his thoughts. “The details don’t matter, I suppose. My father had a terrific idea for a business. At least he thought it was a terrific idea, and perhaps it was. Nobody ever had a chance to find out. At a businessmen’s club, he ran into a sympathetic listener named Burke Ashworth, who was soon just as sold on the idea as my father was. He was so enthusiastic, in fact, that he agreed to back the business financially. They shook hands on the deal, and my father, in utter delight at getting his chance, rented a location and set up an office and bought raw materials and hired a crew. He did it with no cash, just his own signature, backed up by Burke Ashworth’s promise.”

  She knew what was coming, but knowing didn’t make it any less painful to hear.

  “Then he went back to your father and gave him the list of expenses and asked for the money. Burke Ashworth denied ever making any such agreement.”

  “He implied that your father had heard what he wanted to hear?”

  “Worse than that,” Sloan said. “He said straight out—in public—that he’d refused his support, so my father had deliberately set out to defraud all those people by using his name. There was no recourse—people still believed Burke Ashworth back then. They didn’t have any reason to believe my father. He ended up declaring bankruptcy because he didn’t have any choice, but he was sti
ll paying off those debts the day he died. He was a bitter, resentful, beaten man, made old long before his time by a lying cheat named Ashworth.”

  Morganna said, “So you honored your father’s memory by holding a grudge and becoming just as bitter and resentful as he was. Congratulations.”

  “I didn’t have time to do any such thing. I kept an eye out for your father, yes, and I hoped that someday he’d get his comeuppance and I’d be there to see it. But I was too busy scraping together enough money to get an education, and later to get my business going, to worry about revenge.”

  “But once Sticks & Stones had made you a millionaire, you had time on your hands,” Morganna mused. “Oh, and maybe I should ask—where do I come into this?”

  “You came into it just about a year ago,” Sloan said. “I offered to donate furniture for the women’s shelter, and I got roped into being an adviser to the board of directors. So there I was, not quite knowing what I was doing, and suddenly you appeared—part of the fundraising committee.”

  “And they say charity work is good for you,” Morganna muttered.

  “So I scraped a meeting, just to see what you were like.”

  “Too bad I didn’t disappoint you.”

  “No, it was apparent from the beginning that you had just as much charm as your father did.”

  Morganna gritted her teeth. It had obviously not been a compliment. “So you waited for your chance. And my father, selfish jerk that he was, handed you the weapon you needed.”

  “I know how it looks, Morganna.” Sloan sounded tired. “But I didn’t marry you to get even with your father.”

  She was incredulous. “You expect me to believe that now?”

  “No. I don’t know. Hell, at the time, I thought it was revenge I had in mind. It made such a neat little package—using you to regain everything your father cost mine. But that wasn’t why I did it. I didn’t fully understand what I was doing until last night.”

  “If you have the unbelievable gall to tell me that going to bed with me was some kind of revelation—”

  He shook his head. “No. It was before that. At the Carousel Ball, you stood by me, when you didn’t have to. I took advantage of your misfortune—but when you had the chance to pay me back, you didn’t do it. Loyalty was something your father never understood. But you’re true to the core, Morganna.”

  She was frightened that he would pursue that thought and start wondering if there was some special reason why she felt loyal to him. “Just another way to display my charm,” she said coolly.

  “No, it reminded me of the first time I ever saw you, at that charity fund-raiser. One of the little kids from the shelter had taken a tumble and was crying, and you picked him up.”

  She didn’t remember. “So? You expected I’d kick him out of my way?”

  “He wiped his runny nose on the shoulder of your designer dress. And you didn’t get angry, or scold him, or even set him down. You laughed and hugged him closer.”

  Morganna shrugged. “I doubt anyone will nominate me for a Nobel prize on the strength of that.”

  “I couldn’t see it at the time,” he said meditatively. “But as I look back, it was obvious. That was the moment I fell in love with you.”

  Morganna dropped her knife. It bounced off the worktable and clattered against the hardwood floor, but she didn’t hear it.

  I fell in love with you….

  “But I simply couldn’t admit to myself that I’d taken a dive for Burke Ashworth’s daughter, because of what it might lead to. Was I going to sit down with the man for dinner? Buy him a tie for Father’s Day? Not a chance. So I didn’t let myself think about any of that. I just watched you, and waited. When he died, and I found out what a spot he’d left you and Abigail in—”

  “You decided to be a hero.” She was having trouble breathing.

  His mouth twisted. “No. I decided to be a villain. I didn’t exactly intend to punish you, or deliberately make your life miserable. What I planned to do was show you what it was like to be on the receiving end of that kind of selfishness.”

  “You think I didn’t already know? One thing you have to say about my father, at least in the last few years. He wasn’t two-faced. He was a self-centered jerk in everything he did.” Morganna shook her head. “Whereas you…I suppose you’re going to tell me that you brought home diamond bracelets to show me how selfish you were?”

  “In a way I did,” he said levelly, “because I knew you hated wearing those things. You couldn’t wait to get rid of the jewelry, could you? And of me. So where do we go from here, Morganna?”

  She couldn’t answer. He had said he loved her—and yet if she told him now that she wanted to be free, it seemed he would let her go without a qualm and without an instant’s hesitation. But surely, if he cared for her as he’d said he did…She shook her head in confusion.

  He seemed to take the gesture as an answer. “I’ll do my best to make it neat and tidy. The house is yours, and the car, and as far as living expenses—”

  It was tearing her up to listen to him. “Stop it, Sloan.”

  “Whatever you want, Morganna. I did it all backwards, and I don’t have any right to ask for a break now. So if you want me to leave—”

  She said softly, “What if I don’t?”

  He looked at her for a long moment in silence, and then he rubbed his temples as if his head hurt. His words came slowly and unsteadily. “It was driving me crazy to live with you and yet not have you as my wife—and that was before I even understood how I felt. Morganna, I don’t think I can go back to the way it was.”

  “I’m not asking you to. Do you know why I came to the hospital after you this morning?”

  “No,” he admitted. “I was too focused on Joel right then to wonder why you were there.”

  “You were cold, almost angry, when you left. I thought it was because of the figurines—”

  He shook his head. “I’d just spotted that catalog and realized what Joel had done. But I didn’t know how to prove it, and that was chewing me up inside. It wasn’t anything you said.”

  “I thought you believed that I wanted to be able to pay you back and be free of you. So I came running after you to tell you…” She swallowed hard. “To tell you I don’t want to be free.”

  He sounded as if he’d been kicked in the solar plexus. “Morganna—”

  “I tried to hate you,” she said. “But all I could hate was the idea that I didn’t matter to you, that I was only a display rack for clothes and jewelry. A trophy to show how important and successful and generous you were. You told me that was all you required, Sloan, and I agreed to the bargain. But then I started to want more. To need more. And I detested myself for falling in love with a man who saw me as nothing more than an interchangeable convenience—”

  “No,” he said breathlessly. “Never that. It’s you I need, Morganna. Only you. Always you.”

  Then she was in his arms, and she was laughing and crying at the same time, exhilarated at being close to him but still suffering the lingering terror of how nearly it had all gone wrong.

  He held her till she calmed, and then he laid his cheek against her hair. “I wanted to tell you last night that I loved you. But I was afraid it would frighten you—that you’d be scared of what I expected, or wanted. And I thought, since we’d reached a kind of truce, that there was time for me to win you over slowly. So I just held you, and hoped that your heart would hear what mine was saying.”

  “I did hear. At least, until Joel had to go mess things up.”

  “You know,” Sloan said thoughtfully, “I’m almost glad he did. Because, if he hadn’t blown the whistle, I could never have confessed it. I couldn’t just say, ‘Gee, honey, there’s a little something you should know about why I married you.’ Telling you would have hurt you for no good purpose. But how could I have kept it secret? It would have contaminated everything between us.”

  It was exactly what she had thought herself. Nevertheless… “I’m
still not sending him a thank-you note.”

  “I doubt he’ll be watching the mail for one.” Sloan sobered. “I’ve got a lot of rebuilding to do, honey. It’s going to be a slow process, getting Sticks & Stones up and running again. Getting my customers back.”

  “If you’re telling me that finances are going to be tight, I’ll get busy making figurines.”

  He shook his head. “You’ll get busy making figurines because you want to, not because we need the money. The San Francisco deal came through after all, and they’re willing to wait till we’re back in operation. It’ll be the first big job we do. Anyway, as far as finances go, you’ve already done your part by giving up your jewelry.”

  “Sloan…” Her voice was small.

  “Yes, darling?”

  “I would like to have my wedding ring back, if it isn’t already gone.”

  He reached into his pocket. “I picked it up before I came in here, hoping it would bring me luck—so now that it’s done me all the good it possibly can, it needs to go back where it belongs.”

  She held out her hand, and he slid the slender, delicate platinum wedding band into place and kissed her hand, and then her mouth.

  “How about this one?” he said, holding up her engagement ring. “I don’t think I ever told you that I chose it because it was almost as bright as your eyes.”

  She blinked away tears. “You know perfectly well you never said anything so sentimental.”

  “Well, I thought it,” he said unrepentantly. “The jewelry was never intended to buy you, Morganna. I just liked to see you wear it, because it helped to say you were mine.”

  “I know that now,” she whispered.

  “But now that I’ve really won the prize, I don’t need to show you off as a trophy. So as far as the jewelry goes—”

  “You’ve still got it all?”

  He nodded. “Is there anything out of that pile that you’d like to have back?”

  “Whatever you want to give me—as long as you give it with love this time.”

  “That’s the same way I gave it last time,” he said softly. “I just wasn’t smart enough to know it then—or to tell you.” He kissed her slowly and deeply. “But you can expect to hear a lot about it in the future.”