Page 32 of Fergus

Because, despite having known her for only a matter of days, he had fallen deeply and irrevocably in love with Thea Morgan.

Not just because she was beautiful. Even though she was. But because Thea’s soul was equally as beautiful and honest and true to her principles.

Many people would have been tempted to give up their job and live life large and full with the fifty million pounds her mother had left her. Not Thea. To her, it was dirty money, and she wanted nothing to do with it.

Fergus felt sure those principles had to have come from her father. That they had been lovingly instilled in Thea during the first eight years of her life.

Fergus had no doubt that it had been those eight years of her father’s unconditional love that had helped Thea to withstand the years of indifference from her mother that had followed his death.

Thea was a survivor.

A warm, loving, and beautiful survivor, who lived by her own moral code of kindness and honesty.

Fuck, it made Fergus’s heart burst with a warmth of emotion just to look at her.

“Fergus?” she prompted at his silence.

He reached out to gently stroke his fingers down her cheek. “It’s a little after seven o’clock in the evening.”

“Is Declan…”

“He’s fine,” Fergus instantly reassured. “More than fine, apparently,” he added with a rueful smile. “I called to check on him an hour ago, and the nurse in charge of the ICU told me he’s growling at them all because he wants a steak for his dinner and not the soup and pureed food they tried to serve him.”

Thea released a relieved sigh as she pulled herself up into a sitting position. “Thank God.” She swallowed, her gaze focused on her fingers as they plucked at the raised pattern on the duvet cover. “Maybe now isn’t the time, but I really need to know this: why were you so…off toward me this morning?”

Fergus had been expecting this question ever since he’d realized how ridiculous his behavior had been after Declan arrived in Paris this morning. “That’s a bigger conversation, and I think you need to eat dinner before we discuss it any further.”

Her lashes lowered over those beautiful golden eyes. “If that’s what you would prefer.”

“It is.” He stood. “I’ll go and cook us a couple of steaks while you take a refreshing shower and dress in clean clothes.”

“Now you’re being mean!” she protested with a weak smile.

Fergus sobered. “I’m really not. Truth is, I owe Declan a great debt for putting your life before his own.”

Thea eyed him quizzically. “I think I’m the one who owes him that debt, not you.”

“I disagree.”

“But—”

“As I said, you’re rested now, and we can have a more in-depth conversation after you’ve eaten. Okay?” he prompted gently.

She gave a slow nod. “Okay.”

CHAPTERELEVEN

“You saidwe would have the ‘bigger conversation’ after we’ve eaten,” Thea reminded, the two of them having remained seated at the breakfast bar after putting their used dinner plates in the dishwasher.

She hadn’t been able to eat all of the steak and jacket potato Fergus had cooked for her, and there was still some of the salad she had made left in the bowl, but she really couldn’t eat any more. Her stomach was still churning from the horrific events of the day.

It was also still very much a novelty to her to have a man cook a meal for her. She and Martin had dated for a few months, but he had never once offered to cook for her.

It had been nice puttering about in the kitchen together. Something that had felt normal and domesticated after the tension of the past few weeks.

Thea had still been too numb to notice when they arrived earlier, but her walk through the apartment on her way to the kitchen had shown her that Fergus’s London apartment was just as opulent as his Parisian home.

The shades of blue and gray decor throughout, along with the dark furnishings, were more modern than those in his house in Paris, but the overall effect was still one of wealth and comfort.

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