Free Beloved by Diana Palmer Page A

aside.
    He sipped his drink and remembered unwillingly all the
horrible things he'd thought about and said to Tira over John. How she must have suffered through that mockery of a marriage, and how horrible
if she'd loved John. She must have had her illusions shat tered. She was the injured party. But Simon had taken
John's side and punished her as if she was guilty
for John's death. He'd de liberately put her
out of his life, forbidding her to come close even to touch
him.
    He closed his eyes in anguish. She would never let him next her again, no matter how he apologized. He'd said too
much, done too much. She'd loved him, and he'd
savaged her. And it had all been for nothing. She'd been innocent.
    He finished his drink with dead eyes. Regrets seemed to pile up in the loneliness of the night. He glanced toward the
Christmas tree his enthusiastic housekeeper had
set up by the window, and dreaded the whole holiday season. He'd spend
Christmas alone. Tira , at least, would have the despised Charles Percy for
company.
    He wondered why she didn't marry the damned man. They seemed to live in each others' pockets. He remembered
that Charles had always been her champion,
bolstering her up, pro tecting her. Charles had been her friend
when Simon had turned his back on her, so how could he blame her for preferring
the younger man?
    He put his glass down and got to his feet. He felt every
year of his age. He was almost forty and he had
nothing to show for his own life. The child he might have
had was gone, along with Melia ,
who'd never loved him. He'd lived on illusions of love for a long time, when the reality of love had ached
for him and he'd turned his back.
    If he'd let Tira love him...
    He groaned aloud. He might as well put that hope to rest
right now. She'd hate him forever and he had only himself to blame. Perhaps he deserved her hatred. God knew, he'd hurt her
enough.
    He went to bed, to lie awake all night with the memory
of Tira's wounded eyes
and drawn face to haunt him.
    Chapter 5
    Simon was not in a good mood the next morning when he went into work.
Mrs. Mackey, his middle-aged secretary, stopped him at the door of his office with an urgent message to call the gov ernor's office as soon as he came in. He knew what it
was about and he groaned inwardly. He didn't want to be attorney
general, but he knew for a fact that Wally
was going to offer it to him. Wallace Bingley was a hard man to refuse,
and he was a very popular governor as well
as a friend. Both Simon and Tira had been actively involved in his gubernatorial
campaign.
    ''All right, Mrs. Mack," he murmured, smiling as he
used her nickname, "get him for me."
    She grinned, because she knew, too, what was going on.
    Minutes later, the call was put
through to his office.
    "Hi, Wally," Simon said.
"What can I do for you?"
    "You know the answer to that already," came the
wry re sponse. "Will you or won't you?"
    "I'd like a week or so to think about it,"
Simon said seriously. "It's a part of
my life I hadn't planned to take up again. I don't like living in a goldfish bowl and I hear it's open season on at torneys general in Texas."
    Wallace
chuckled. "You don't have as many political enemies

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    Beloved
    Diana Palmer
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as he does, and you're craftier, too. All right, think about it. Take the
rest of the month. But two weeks is all you've got. After the holidays, his resignation takes effect, and I have to
appoint some one."
    "I promise to let you know by then," Simon assured him.
    "Now, to better things. Are you coming to the
Starks's Christ mas party?"
    "I'd have liked to, but my brothers are throwing a
party down in Jacobsville and I more or less
promised to show up."
    "Speaking of the 'fearsome four,'
how are they?"
    "Desperate." Simon chuckled. "Corrigan
phoned day before yesterday and announced that Dorie
thinks she's pregnant. If she is, the boys are going to have to find a
new victim to make biscuits for them."
    "Why don't they hire a cook?"
    "They can't keep