A Midsummer Night's Romp

by Katie MacAlister

  “None,” the doctor said, flicking a penlight across his eyes, and tsking to herself. “She may have moments of sleepiness, though. I urge you both to get some rest, actually. You’ll feel better for it.”

  “Is there anything we should do for her?” he asked, relief filling him at the knowledge that Lorina wouldn’t be taken from him.

  “Nothing at all other than to make sure she stays hydrated. And you both might wish to go light on food for a day or so until the drug leaves your bodies. You look a bit pale—I suspect your stomach is queasy, yes?”

  “Just a bit—not too much,” he admitted.

  “Where is the third patient?”

  “Elliott will be able to tell you that.” He told Cressy to fetch her uncle, thanked the doctor, and, with no patience left, entered his room.

  Lorina sat on the edge of the bed, her head in her hands. She looked up as he entered, and gave him a wan smile. “Got a clean bill of health. How about you?”

  Dear god, she was beautiful. Her smile lit up not just the room but all the dark corners of his soul. How could he ever have imagined life without her?

  “The same.” He sat next to her and was pleased when she scooted over to snuggle up with him. He thought of telling her of his feelings right then and there, but he wanted to give her time to get used to the idea that he intended for her to be around for more than just a short period of time. “You know, the thought of being alone with you here in this room has been uppermost on my mind for the last few days, but I’m afraid that if I tried anything right now, I’d be doomed to disappoint.”

  She laughed, and kissed his jaw. “That goes for both of us. I’d really like nothing more than to strip you naked and rub myself all over you, but not right now. Not until I feel like I wouldn’t fall asleep in the middle of it.”

  “Which is a good thing considering Elliott will be here in a few minutes.”

  “Why?”

  “I asked him to come. Evidently he discovered that Thompson had the few pieces we uncovered.”

  Lorina gaped at him. “No!”

  He nodded. “I’m afraid so. We were both quite wrong in our estimation of him.”

  “Not once, but twice,” Lorina said with a wry twist of her lips. “Only the first time we were in the wrong, and now . . . Gunner, this just seems so convenient.”

  “Doesn’t it?”

  She slid a look at him from the corner of her eye. “You don’t think he drugged us and stole the jewelry?”

  “No, I do not.”

  “Neither do I.” She made a quick gesture of defiance. “Oh, don’t get me wrong, I don’t like the man. No matter what that test says, I know he is guilty of infecting Sandy, and for that, he should rot in hell. But even considering all that, he doesn’t strike me as a thief, not of archaeological artifacts, no matter what Daria says.”

  She stopped abruptly, then sucked in a large amount of air and turned to him, grasping his arm in a hard grip. “Gunner, that’s it! That’s what’s been bothering me! Man alive, I can’t believe I missed it!”

  “Missed what?”

  “The name on the report, on Paul’s report. Do you still have it?”

  “I think so.” He went through his pockets and pulled out the folded sheet of paper. “I was planning on writing my part of our apology on the back of it.”

  “Look,” she said, smoothing it out over his leg. “The name of the lab.”

  “Analysis performed by: Hollingberry Laboratories,” he read. “What of it?”

  “Hollingberry is Daria’s surname. And she said when I first met her that her husband ran a lab that did medical tests. That’s got to be more than a coincidence.”

  Gunner thought for a minute. “That would explain a lot.”

  “Does it? Like what? Speak to me in words of few syllables, since my brain is evidently made of molasses.”

  He squeezed her and wondered what he’d done in a past life to have landed Lorina in this one. It must have been something hellaciously wonderful. “We both agree that Daria’s suggestion that Thompson drugged us in order to steal the treasure is very unlikely.”

  “Very.”

  “The question of how he knew that we were digging isn’t really answered by Daria saying she’d seen us heading out to the temple. There was already a trench there, so why would more digging there send him into a panic that resulted in his drugging our tea?”

  “Good point. Someone had to have been watching us to know we found the treasure,” Lorina said slowly, enlightenment dawning in her eyes. “And he was going to the mayor’s dinner. So how did he know? He couldn’t. Which means . . .” Her eyes opened wide.

  He nodded. “The rest of the crew was at the mayor’s dinner. There was no one around but Daria and Thompson, and he was to leave shortly after we met with him. I can’t help but wonder if there’s a reason why Daria would want Thompson out of the picture.”

  “There is,” Lorina said, sitting up straight and turning to him. “She wants his job. She’s very bitter over the board of the Claud-Marie company picking him over her. If she set him up for drugging us and stealing the treasure, then she’d be a shoo-in for his job. But . . .” She gnawed for a second on her lower lip. “That doesn’t explain the coincidence of the lab situation.”

  “That’s been bothering me as well.” He glanced at his watch. “Elliott should be here in a few minutes. Are you up to talking with him, or do you want to rest? Perhaps you should rest. You’ve been through a lot.”

  She pinched his arm. “Stop mother-henning me.”

  “I can’t help myself. I feel responsible for the situation.”

  The look she gave him was one of genuine confusion. “Why?”

  He didn’t want to admit the truth, not sure how she’d take it, but if he wanted to have a future with her, he had to be honest about his feelings. “Because I should have watched over you better.”

  She pulled back, giving him an odd look. “Watched over me? Like . . . stalking?”

  “No, of course not.” He was silent a moment, unsure of how she’d take his intentions. “I . . . oh, to hell with it. I want to take care of you, Lorina. It would give me the greatest pleasure to ensure that your life was one of happiness and pleasure, and lots of romping in bed with me. There. I’ve said it. If you’re going to yell at me for challenging you as a strong, independent woman, you’d best do it now before Elliott gets here.”

  She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times before wrapping her arms around herself and shaking her head. “You want to take care of me?”

  “I do.”

  She had been staring at the floor, but slipped him a look out of the corner of her eye. “Because you think I need you?”

  He hesitated, treading carefully. “Partly that. But also because I need you, too, and evidently part of that need is to make sure you’re safe and happy.”

  “Safe,” she said on a sigh, shaking her head again. She turned to him, putting her hand on his, slipping her fingers around his. “If you knew how important that word is to me, but I really don’t want to bore you with my hang-ups. . . . Oh, you’re right—to hell with it. I’ll just tell you and let the chips fall where they may.” She took a deep breath. “You were right when you guessed that I grew up in an abusive environment. And yes, it was my father who was the one who did the abusing—verbally, not physically—but my mother was too much of a doormat to ever stand up to him and stop the damage. I got away from them both when I was eighteen, and went to college, which is where I met Sandy. When I was in my late twenties, I fell into a relationship with a man who turned out to be just like Dad.”

  She rubbed her arms, and Gunner had to fight himself to keep from folding her against his chest, and placing himself between her and the rest of the world.

  “That only lasted for a year, and after that, Sandy convinced me to get some co
unseling. That’s who Dr. Anderson is—she was my counselor for five years. She taught me that I don’t have to be a victim, and that not all men are like my dad and ex, and most importantly, that I am a strong person on my own, and don’t need approval from anyone to be happy. And that was good, but every man I met since then has been . . . ugh. I can’t describe it. It’s like I’m in a person-sized hamster ball, and I can’t stand having them in there with me. I don’t like men touching me, and I certainly haven’t been able to trust one to not go ballistic on me like Dad and the ex.”

  He put his hand on hers, touched by both the fact that she opened up to him and that she obviously felt differently about him.

  “Until you.” She gave him a slow look, one that carried many emotions in it, all of which warmed him to his toes. “You’re different.”

  “I’ve been told that many times, but never before has it been a compliment,” he said with a little tightening of his fingers against hers. He wanted to dance and sing with joy at her statement, but knew instinctively that he needed to let her finish her confession. “Just so you know—I think you’re different as well. From any of the other women I know, that is.”

  She smiled in response, her fingers lingering on his for another few seconds before she withdrew her hand. “So now you know the worst about me. I launched a revenge plan against Paul—”

  “Which you couldn’t complete.”

  “And I allowed men to dominate me when I should have stood up for myself.”

  “You did stand up for yourself, love. I have a brother who suffered some pretty horrendous abuse before our parents adopted him, and I know how much blame he put on himself for being in a situation that was out of his control. You aren’t responsible for the actions of others.”

  “You sound just like Dr. Anderson,” Lorina said with a light laugh. “And I know that—I truly do. I guess I was just trying to bare my soul to you, all of the ugly bits of self-doubt and such.”

  Once again he had to struggle against the urge to take her into his arms. His wounded little Lorina, so bravely determined to share with him her innermost secrets. He blinked a moment at that thought and, without realizing it, asked, “Why?”

  “Why?” Her brow furrowed. “Why did I bare my soul?”

  “Yes, why? Why tell me this now?” Hope flared to life within him when she bit her lower lip and slid another sidelong look at him.

  “Um. I guess . . . I just . . .” She stopped and turned to face him, slapping him on the knee. “Dammit, you’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”

  “I’m not going to make you do anything,” he said softly, and hoped she understood he was making her an oath.

  “That’s not what I mean, although . . .” Her militant expression faded into something softer. “Although I do appreciate that. I bared my soul because what you said about us earlier—I like it. I like you. A lot. And I think maybe we might have something other than just wickedly hot sex going for us. So I wanted you to know just what you would be getting in me.” She took a deep, quavering breath.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “I tried to stop, but I can’t. You just send all my senses reeling, and I have to hold you. Tell me you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t mind,” she said with a little giggle, leaning into him. “But you have to understand that I’m not surrendering myself to you. I won’t be anyone’s doormat. I won’t be my mom.”

  He kissed her forehead, knowing full well if he kissed her anywhere else, they’d end up beneath the covers. “I wouldn’t want you any way other than how you are. Now, I believe you need to distract me.”

  “Really?” She must have sensed how difficult a time he was having leashing his desire, for she scooted off his lap and moved off the bed to pick up a pillow that had fallen to the floor. “Why?”

  “My brother and his wife will be up here any minute, and if you don’t distract me, I’m bound to pounce on you and demonstrate in no uncertain terms just how much I admire your strength of purpose and delectable body. And mind. I like your mind, too.”

  “Nice catch,” she said with another light laugh, and sat down in an armchair a few yards away. “All right, let’s go over what we’re going to say to Daria.”

  Before he could answer, there was a knock at the door, and Elliott popped his head around the door. “You decent?”

  “Quite,” Gunner replied. “Come in; we have a few things to say to you.”

  “Oh, I hope it’s about the wedding, because I’d like to get that planned before Lady Ainslie comes home. Elliott and Gunner’s mom, that is.” Alice bustled in after Elliott, giving them both concerned looks. “The doctor says you’re fine, which is good, although if you need anything, Lorina, let me know. Your sleepiness aside, I’m dying to talk wedding with you. Mom-in-law will be back in less than a week, and we need to have the plans firm or else she’ll take over, and then you’ll have every Ainslie relation in the British Isles descending upon you. The woman dearly loves a wedding, and Elliott and I only got away with a minor one because she didn’t yet realize how much fun she could have planning one.”

  “Wedding talk will have to wait,” Gunner told his sister-in-law with a sidelong look at Lorina. “We’re still working things out in that regard, and I don’t want Lorina rushed.”

  Lorina wrinkled her nose at him. “If only you’d thought about that before you announced to everyone that we were getting married. Go on, tell them about Daria.”

  “Daria?” Elliott asked, sitting on the second armchair and pulling Alice down onto his lap. “Ah, the woman who told us about the blackmail. What does she have to do with your wedding?”

  “Nothing.” Gunner quickly explained their theory on Daria’s involvement with the drugging. “The part we don’t understand is whether her husband running Thompson’s STD tests is a coincidence or by design.”

  “That’s one heck of a coincidence,” Alice said, leaning back against Elliott. “Although maybe Mr. Thompson knew Daria, and that her husband was a lab guy, and he asked her hub to do the tests, so it wouldn’t get around?”

  Gunner stared at her for a second, then turned to Lorina, who moved over to stand next to him. She gripped his arm in excitement. “There’s a connection, isn’t there?” he asked her.

  “Yes,” she said, all signs of fatigue having disappeared. “Daria used to date Paul. Before she was married, of course, but I gather they were an item. And then they broke up, and things kind of went downhill for Daria.”

  “If the relationship ended badly, then that might give her even more motive for throwing suspicion on Thompson,” Gunner said, getting to his feet. “I think we need to have a chat with her.”

  “I agree,” Elliott said, patting Alice until she got off him. “I’d like this taken care of quickly, and with minimal police involvement. We don’t need any negative publicity surrounding the dig if we want to draw tourists in to view the excavations. Where is Daria now? Does anyone know?”

  It turned out that no one did know, and when they all trooped down to the tent area, Daria’s tent was empty.

  “Her things are still here, though,” Lorina said as they glanced around. “So she hasn’t done a runner.”

  “That we know of,” Gunner amended, and emerged from the tent to find Roger striding past, a frown firmly affixed to his brow. “Roger, hold up a minute. Do you know where Daria is?”

  “Hmm? No, I don’t. What’s this I hear about you finding treasure? Why would you dig without us? It’s too late to film now, but Sue is no end of furious that you’d dig without first telling us. I understand that you feel proprietary about the finds, but really! I thought we were on the same page regarding digging. Your discovery would have made for excellent viewing, and now the best we can do is have a reenactment of you finding the treasure, and then an analysis of just what was buried, and when, and by whom.”

 
“I think we need to have a discussion with both Mr. Thompson and Daria,” Elliott said at the same time Gunner started into an explanation of why he had started digging before Roger had returned from town.

  “We weren’t sure if there was going to be anything there at all, especially since part of the temple had already been dug up,” Gunner finished. “Has someone been to the trench to see if any of the uncovered archaeology is still there?”

  “There’s nothing but a big hole in the trench,” Roger said, giving him a sad look.

  Gunner exchanged glances with Lorina. “It’s as we thought. I’m truly sorry, Roger. I had no idea it would end this way. We should talk to Thompson and Daria as quickly as possible. Are they around?”

  “Paul’s in his trailer.” Roger shot a distressed look at Elliott. “He says he won’t come out until his name has been cleared. Daria’s whereabouts are unknown. I asked some of the diggers to scout around for her.”

  “Then we shall go to him,” Elliott said, and they all turned as a group and went to find Thompson.

  Roger trailed after them, calling into his radio for a camera crew to meet him at the caravans. By the time they arrived, Thompson was standing in the open doorway, his arms crossed, and an obstinate expression settled firmly on his face.

  “If you’ve come to arrest me for the theft of the archaeology found in my caravan, I demand legal representation.” Thompson looked along the line of them one by one. “I am innocent, not that I expect anyone to believe me.” He looked hard at Gunner and Lorina. “It’s obvious that someone planted the archaeology here to make me look bad.”

  “If you don’t mind, we’d like to come in and discuss that,” Gunner said, and, without waiting for permission, pushed his way past the archaeologist, taking Lorina with him.

  Thompson sputtered a bit, but gave way when the others followed. They arranged themselves on the available couch and chairs, with Gunner taking a stand behind the chair in which Lorina sat.

  “I believe I’ll nominate myself as speaker,” Gunner said, glancing around at the others. They all nodded. Lorina leaned back and gave him a supportive smile. “First of all, we’d like to get the situation with your tests cleared up.”