by Cate Dean
Drew took over. “I had Edward brought in, ready to arrest him. Then he offered me a deal I couldn’t refuse.”
“You betrayed your oath,” Maggie said. She put as much scorn as she could into her voice, satisfied to see Drew flinch.
He recovered quickly. “I had plans, and they didn’t include being trapped in a stifling village, pretending I cared about the fools who thought they were living the ideal life. When you arrived, Maggie, I thought I might be able to stay. But you treated me as a friend, not the lover I wanted to be.”
“I never knew—ˮ
“Yes, you did!” He took a deep breath, visibly controlled himself. “I could have waved a sign in front of you, and you still would have refused what I offered. You’re just like your aunt, nose in the air, above everyone else.” He strode forward and pulled Maggie to her feet. “I told you to stop poking around, to let me do my job. But you just could not let it go, could you? I was trying to protect you.”
He hauled her forward and kissed her.
Maggie fought him, terrified at the desperate need in his rough embrace. When he tried to force her mouth open, she bit his lip.
He shouted, and shoved her at the altar. “Even with a last chance, you throw it away. For him?”
She clutched the side of the altar, her right arm throbbing from impact. “For Giles. For Angus. You killed Giles, didn’t you?”
He lifted his chin. “The stubborn fool wanted money for the jar, after he had been given the bloody thing.”
Edward turned on him. “And I told you that I would be happy to offer him a finder’s fee! But you were already swinging the statue at the back of his head, like the mindless commoner you are.”
Drew clenched his fists, and Maggie waited for him to punch Edward. Instead, he relaxed. “I may be a commoner, but it was my idea to lay the blame on him.” He pointed at Martin.
“Which would have worked, had you not killed Giles while Pembroke was locked up.”
Drew’s nostrils flared. “I would have covered it up, after his unfortunate accident.”
Maggie couldn’t believe what Drew was saying. “You were going to kill Martin, and make him the scapegoat?”
“I was going to think about myself for a change. What is so wrong about that?”
“When it costs the lives of innocent people, all kinds of wrong.”
Drew started toward her, and she knew she’d let her tongue speak before her brain could stop it. Edward caught him, whispering to him furiously.
Maggie took advantage of their distraction, and used the altar to push to her feet. The jar had been upset when Drew threw her against it, spilling some of the contents. A familiar scent tickled her nose.
She looked at the stain on the altar cloth, then at the jar.
And had a crazy idea.
She took a deep breath, closed her hands around the jar, and glanced over her shoulder.
“How much?” she said.
Her words stopped the argument mid whisper. They both looked at her, and Edward spoke first.
“How much? What are you asking, Maggie?”
“How much to leave us here, alive, and walk away.”
Edward glanced at Drew, who shrugged.
“Are you bribing us, darling Maggie?”
“My great aunt left me a sizable inheritance. Enough for both of you to create new lives. It will buy our silence. Write a letter of resignation, Drew, and no one will question your sudden disappearance.”
Edward turned back to Drew. “You were right. Our Maggie does have an intriguing mind. How much are we talking?”
She knew appealing to their greed would grab their attention. Now it was time to show she could lie like a pro. She’d lied to her parents—and herself—for years.
“Five million pounds,” she said. “Liquid.”
Edward’s eyes gleamed at the amount. “Liquid?”
“It’s all in the bank, easily accessible by wire transfer.” As she talked she inched the jar closer to her, working her fingers up to the lid of the jar. It was a small, inset lid that flipped open, and she needed it open for her plan to even have a chance. “All you have to do is say yes, and I can do it on the closest available mobile. In a public place.”
Drew started to shake his head. “I don’t believe you.”
“Aunt Irene owned the shop and the flat above it outright, as well as her house. She sold her other property when she knew she was not going to recover, to leave an inheritance for me.” It took all her control not to look at Martin, convey to him that she had a reason for trying to make a deal. “Her banker, Grey Roscommon, will be happy to confirm the amount.”
That sucked them in. Grey was her aunt’s banker, and now hers. But there was nowhere near five million in her account. She didn’t plan for it to get that far.
“Very well,” Edward said. “You have just bought your life back.”
“Our lives.” Her heart pounded so hard, she could hardly breathe. “It’s both of us, Edward, or nothing. And I want you and Drew to shake my hand on the deal.”
They started whispering again, which terrified her. If the answer was no, they could turn around and just shoot her and Martin. She kept working her hands up the jar, flying blind, and almost sagged in relief when her fingers touched the small clay lid.
After several tries, she knew she had flipped it open when the scent of frankincense wafted up to her. Worst case, she could hit at least one of them.
Drew’s voice startled her so much she nearly dropped the jar. “You drive a hard bargain, Maggie. But we agree.” He gave Edward a hard look. After endless seconds, Edward nodded. “I want Martin face down on the floor, since we’ll have to turn our backs to him. I will do it.” He grabbed Edward’s arm when Edward started moving. “You may lose control before we can complete the deal.”
“But you promised me—ˮ He cut himself off, but Maggie knew what he was going to say. Drew had promised to let him kill Martin.
“If Edward touches him, the deal is off. Two point five million pounds, Drew. Free and clear. All you have to do is keep him under control.”
He stalked forward, and Maggie was afraid she’d pushed too hard. When he dug his fingers into her right shoulder, she waited for him to drag her over and shoot them both.
“Someday, I will return for you.” He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. Maggie hunched forward, desperate to hide the bottle in her hands from him, but he was too busy nibbling her ear, with a wet enthusiasm that made her want to shudder. “Stay here.”
He paused next to Edward long enough to whisper something to him, then moved to Martin. For the first time, Maggie risked a glance at him, and almost fell over when he winked at her.
It was sly, fast, and with the eye facing away from Drew, but she saw it. Somehow, that one small gesture boosted her fast-fading courage. She turned her attention to Edward, gave him a smile she hoped said “I trust you,” and watched him approach.
After Drew shoved Martin to the ground, with more force than necessary, Maggie stopped feeling the least bit bad about what she planned to do.
She tightened her grip on the jar as Drew sauntered over, like he had the world at his feet. The timing had to be perfect; with her hands tied, she lost some of her control.
Her muscles tensed. She forced herself to relax, to visualize the movements and the result.
The second Drew reached Edward’s side, Maggie struck.
She swung around, gauging distance as she raised the jar and tossed the oil in their faces.
Edward screamed, clawing at his eyes. Drew came at her, even though his eyes must have been burning, his arms outstretched, searching for her.
“You are dead, Maggie! Do you hear me—when I catch you, you are—ˮ
He grunted and toppled forward. Maggie saw the reason as he fell.
Martin.
Somehow, he’d used the time she was distracting them to get to his feet. Dirt and sweat stained his once pristine white shirt.
“All right?”
She leaned against the altar, her adrenaline draining so fast she felt lightheaded. “I think so.”
He moved in until his breath brushed her lips. “That was incredibly foolish, Miss Mulgrew.” She opened her mouth to defend herself, shocked into silence when he kissed her. It was fast, but tender, and she wanted more. “Thank you for risking it.”
He turned around, and she managed to untie him. With a groan, he eased his arms down, and fumbled her knots loose. She knew he wasn’t completely recovered when he moved to the hunched, moaning figures.
“What was in the jar?”
“Frankincense oil.”
Martin flinched, and rolled Drew over, tying his hands behind him. “Remind me never to anger you, Maggie Mulgrew.”
She smiled. “You’ll be fine, as long as you don’t drag me to a deserted church and threaten to kill me.”
He gave her his crooked smile, and she needed to sit. “Good to know. So, exactly how much of that was truth?”
“Everything, except the amount.”
“How much?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Significantly less than five million—and that’s all you’re getting out of me.”
Drew started cursing, and Edward just moaned louder.
Once Martin finished tying them, he pushed to his feet, obviously in pain. “What will counteract the oil?”
“Milk is the easiest. It will stop the burning.”
He rubbed his left shoulder, then held out his right hand. “Shall we go and find some milk?” Maggie took his hand. When he pulled her up, he kept pulling, until she was in his arms. “You scared ten years off my life, Maggie.”
“Sorry. I wanted to try and signal you, but I couldn’t give myself away.”
“It was perfect.” He led her past the two men, putting as much space between them as the tiny church would allow. “I take it your skill with throwing knives came in handy?”
“Throwing liquid is much trickier, especially with my hands tied. It’s why I had to get them as close as possible.”
They walked outside, and Maggie turned her face up, letting the wind cool her flushed skin. Martin pulled his mobile out of his pocket and phoned the local emergency services. Edward had been too distracted to confiscate it.
“Have them bring milk,” he said. After a pause, he smiled, winking at Maggie again. “They will understand, once they arrive at the scene. These men are the prime suspects in two local murders, and one of them is a Holmestead PC. There are two witnesses to their full confessions. You are speaking to one of them.” Another pause, and his smile widened. “Who am I? Lord Pembroke Martin Deauville, son of the Earl of Berkshire.”
Maggie covered her mouth at the expression on his face. He finished the call and tucked the mobile in his trouser pocket before he took her hand, twining their fingers together. It felt right; being here with him felt more right than anything in her life.
“What next?”
“We are expected at the Kent Police headquarters. We will give a statement, identify the suspects, then go home.”
“You sound awfully sure of that, Lord Pembroke.”
“I am.” He kissed her, pulling her in until her hand was braced against his chest. When they came up for air, he cupped her chin, his grey blue eyes serious. “Do me one favor.”
“Anything.”
“Never call me Pembroke again.”
Twenty One
News of Drew’s arrest spread through the village like wildfire.
After being left unconscious, bound and gagged, Ian Reynolds had come to, managed to untie himself, and was at headquarters when Martin had called in. He was put in charge of the investigation—and Maggie figured he would be in charge of the local station, sooner rather than later.
She knew he’d be perfect for the position, one he should have been given, instead of Drew Cooperman. That decision was going to take time to wash over, and she knew that certain individuals would lose their jobs because of it.
It was hard to feel sorry for them, especially after Drew’s past indiscretions became public. He had been quite a bad boy in London, beating witnesses and suspects, losing his temper on a regular basis, and harassing female constables. His transfer to Holmestead had not been voluntary.
As far as Maggie was concerned, that transfer should have been straight to the nearest unemployment line.
Things worked out in the end, but not before innocent people suffered. Drew and Edward would never breathe free air again. Maggie and Martin were already set to testify against them, to make sure of it.
Now, days later, it was time to face the villagers.
Maggie used to walk to the high street to brace herself—and she was accosted by locals the second she appeared. Thankfully, Martin and Spencer flanked her, protecting her from any potential grabbing hands.
“Go on,” Spencer said. “You’ll hear all about it soon enough.”
That got them as far as her shop. Enid stood in front of the door, arms crossed, her eyes narrowed.
Maggie halted, not wanting to deal with Enid’s scorn. Not after a sleepless night, filled with bad dreams—when she actually slept.
Spencer took the hit for her by stepping up, hands on his hips.
“Maggie doesn’t have anything to say.”
“Well, I do, young man.” She eyed him, her glare cold. “Now stand aside.”
“It’s okay, Spence.” Maggie touched his arm. “I’m good.”
He stood just behind her, probably ready to jump Enid if she so much as looked at Maggie wrong.
Enid marched forward, pointing at Maggie. “What were you thinking? Standing up to murderers like that? If you had been harmed, I never would have—ˮ To Maggie’s shock she burst into tears.
Martin came to her rescue; he gently guided Enid away from the door, giving Maggie room to unlock it, then led Enid inside and sat her in the closest chair.
The shop was ice cold. Maggie went back to turn up the heat, only to find it already set at the normal temperature.
“Another thing to put on my list.”
She sighed, making a mental note to hire Henry for the work. He had been moving quietly around the village since his return, and was unable to find work. Maggie wanted to help him find his way back into the village’s good graces.
When she walked back out to the shop, she found Enid standing next to the counter, looking embarrassed.
“Maggie—ˮ
“No apologies, Enid.” She moved around the counter, and hugged the older woman. “Thank you for caring enough to yell at me.”
Enid chuckled. “I never thought I would warm to you, my dear. But you do have a way about you.” With a final pat on her back, Enid let her go. “Speaking of warm, is your radiator out, dear?” She rubbed her arms. “It’s nigh on to freezing here.”
“Aunt Irene put in central heat, and yes, it’s working. I already have it on my long list of things that need to be done.”
“Then I won’t add to it by delaying you.” She hesitated, like she was about to ask something. Then she shook her head and stood, heading for the door.
Maggie thought she knew what that question was. “Enid—we’ll talk about the changes to your shop next week, all right?”
“Yes, of course. That would be nice, dear. Spencer, Professor Martin.” She nodded to each of them before she opened the door and left.
Spencer practically pounced. “What was that about?”
“I offered to help her change the ambiance of her shop.”
“Make it less tacky and off-putting?”
“Spence.” She smacked his arm, and he grinned. “Enid’s not as bad as I thought. She’s been through a rough time, and I want her to have a shop she’ll be proud of. Besides, it’ll allow me to indulge my love of all things Sherlock.” Spencer rolled his eyes, but she knew he’d want to help. He was almost as much a fan. “Now, I want you to go home—your home, and get some sleep. I know you stayed up most of the night, watching ov
er me.”
“I’m fine, Mags.”
The giant yawn right after he said that made her laugh. Which made her right side hurt. “Go home, Spence. For me.”
“Right.” He kissed her cheek, and surprised her by pulling her into his arms, careful of her bruises and scrapes. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again.”
He kissed the top of her head before he let her go, waving at Martin on his way out.
Martin waited until he door closed behind Spencer before he said anything.
“May I make a suggestion?”
“You may. It doesn’t mean I’ll take it.”
“So I’ve learned.” He started to push up his glasses, and realized he wasn’t wearing them. His frames had been twisted beyond saving. “Close the shop today. You look exhausted, and by tomorrow, the official report will be in the paper, answering most of the questions you will be forced to spend the day fielding.”
“I don’t—ˮ The lights flickered on and off. Maggie sighed, shaking her head. “That’s on my list for Henry to take a look at.”
“Your lights are fine, Maggie.” He took her hand, tugging on it until they stood toe to toe. “Your ghost is making herself known.”
“I don’t believe in—ˮ This time, the lights went off. “Shoot.”
She started to tug her hand free. Martin responded by wrapping his other arm around her, leaning down until his lips were inches from hers.
“Time to start, love.”
He kissed her, holding her as carefully as one of his precious artifacts. For the first time since Angus’ murder, she felt safe. His fingers slid into her hair, and she eased back, looking up at him. In the dim light, his grey blue eyes looked dark, serious.
“Martin?”
He stared past her. “I did not want to burden you with this so soon after what happened.”
“Now you have to tell me.” She poked him in the chest, careful to avoid the bruises she knew marked most of his torso. Edward and Drew hadn’t been careful with him. “Spill, Professor.”
With a sigh, he met her eyes. “I’m afraid I am no longer a professor.”
Shock jolted her. “What?”
