by Sahara Kelly
Trying not to grind her teeth at her husband’s high-handed control over her visitors, Alwynne nodded. “Please show the Baron in.”
Perhaps a guest was what she needed to spark more creativity in her mind. She’d languished in her recuperative period long enough. Her physical scars were healing.
Her psychological scars would never disappear, she knew. But if there was one thing Alwynne possessed in abundance, it was patience.
Her time would come.
And so would her revenge.
*~~*~~*
“I don’t know, James.”
Charlotte Howell looked thoughtful as she tucked her arm into Inspector Burke’s and strolled beside him through the bitter winter chill.
“We need an entree into that house, love. You know that. Until we have access…and I mean real access, freedom to get into places not ordinarily accessible…we simply won’t be able to produce enough evidence against the Harburys.”
She nodded. “I do understand, really I do. And nobody wants these two brought to justice more than me. After what they did to Devon—well, it’s beyond words. I suppose Portia could go back to the laboratories? That’s where the horrid experiments take place.”
“I can’t.” He sighed. “I just can’t let her go back there. After what went on at the Dower House…” He couldn’t find the words and his voice tapered off, leaving the sentence unfinished.
She patted his arm comfortingly. “I wouldn’t send Portia unaccompanied, James. I was thinking that somehow Devon could go with her. I just don’t quite see how that could be managed.” She sighed as well. “Unfortunately, she’s the only person who could freely wander.”
“Agreed. But no.” He frowned. “There must be another way. And I do believe that although the scientists work in the laboratories and we might possibly be able to gather a clue or two there, I think the real meat of this place lies above, in Harbury Hall. That’s where the records must be. The monies paid out for what and to whom.” He felt his jaw tighten. “That’s what we need, Charlotte. Solid hard evidence.”
“There speaks the Inspector.”
“Indeed. I know exactly what we want. I have a good idea where to find it. The only thing missing is the how.”
They walked in silence for a few moments, following the path they’d come to regard as theirs, since it provided a handy shortcut through the woods from Charlotte’s Applewood Cottage to James’s loaned base of operations just outside the Harbury estate. The half hour walk had become a pleasant break in their day and sometimes, as now, they took it just for the joy of sharing each other’s company.
And, since they were human and very attracted to each other, there was the occasional stop for a brief kiss.
After one such pause, James pulled Charlotte even closer to his chest, wrapping her in his warmth and letting her burrow her face against his woolen muffler. She felt so right there.
“Marry me.”
The words fell from his lips before he realized he’d spoken them aloud.
She tensed in his arms and raised her head to stare at him. Her eyes were round with shock. “What?”
He frowned. “You heard me. Marry me.”
“I don’t understand.”
Burke felt confused, his temper beginning to stir. He was asking the damn woman to share the rest of his life with him. In English. What couldn’t she understand?
“I. Want. You. To. Marry. Me.” Carefully, enunciating every syllable clearly, he asked again.
She shook her head. “I can’t believe this.”
He took a slow, even breath. He would not shout. He was a gentleman and gentlemen didn’t bellow at ladies while proposing to them, no matter what the provocation. “What can’t you believe?”
She blinked at him, her pure blue eyes wide. “You want me to marry you.”
Exasperated, he took a tenuous grip on his temper. “Yes. I do. That’s why I asked you.” His fingers tightened and restrained the urge to shake some sense into her to replace the wits she’d apparently lost at his spontaneous proposal.
“Why?”
He blew air out through pursed lips. “I’m starting to ask myself that same question.”
She freed her hands from his muffler and cupped them around his chin. “You really want to get married? To me?”
“Why are you so surprised, Charlotte? We’ve become so close. I know we haven’t known each other for years, or even been properly introduced, if it comes down to it. But does that matter? It doesn’t to me. I simply know what I want. And a few minutes ago I decided not to waste any more time. So yes. I want to get married. To you. I want to wake up next to you for the rest of my life. I want to go to bed with you every night of the rest of my life. And I want to spend as many of the hours in between with you as well.”
“Oh James.” She sighed the words, stroking his cheek with cool fingers.
He put his hands over hers, warming them and holding them fast against his skin. “So what do you think?”
She studied him, her thumbs brushing his chin. “I think…” Her luscious lips curved ever so slightly. “I think that sounds like a lovely idea.”
He swallowed. ”You mean…”
“Yes.”
Just one word, one little word. One syllable and Inspector Burke’s life changed forever. Something extraordinary should have happened—a ray of sunshine should have speared the winter gloom, but it didn’t. Or perhaps a bird should have burst into song. But there was no sound other than the occasional plop of snow dropping from bowed branches.
He did the only thing he could do. He offered up a heartfelt prayer. “Thank God.”
And then he kissed her, tenderly at first, gently, afraid to frighten her with the intensity of the emotions roiling inside him at that moment.
But he didn’t have to worry. She lifted herself up on tiptoe and kissed him back, her enthusiasm igniting the desire he knew smoldered just beneath his control. Her mouth opened in response to the urging of his tongue and she gave him back touch for touch, kiss for kiss, breath for breath.
It was more than a few minutes before they gathered themselves and resumed their walk.
“I don’t have a ring, dammit.”
Charlotte chuckled. “Actually that’s a good thing. It shows it was a perfectly spontaneous eruption of genuine emotion.”
“Really?”
“Either that or you’re simply a man who doesn’t think ahead. But I don’t believe that. So I’m going with a passions-of-the-moment theory.”
He paused, his hand on her arm drawing her to a standstill. “It wasn’t planned, Charlotte. But I think I’ve been in love with you since you opened your door in that absurd cap with the ribbon all askew.”
“I know, James. I know. It took me until you ate my scones, about five minutes later. Then I knew I was lost. I don’t mind about a ring. It’s a symbol. What we have doesn’t need such things.”
“I will get you one, of course.”
“You’d better.” She looked smug. “A woman only says yes once, you know. And at our age, you’d better make it a big one so nobody misses it.”
His laugh startled a flock of birds nearby. “I will, my darling. The biggest I can afford.”
She nodded in satisfaction. “That’s good. But, wonderful though all this is, it still leaves us with the problem of Harbury.”
He pulled her close. “I will not have you involved in it, Charlotte. I never wanted to involve you and now? No way in hell will I let you near that godforsaken nightmare.”
“We have just committed to being partners for life, James. I love you and respect you. I hope you feel the same about me. Because if you start being all protective and husbandly, keeping me away from what’s going on, there are going to be some very serious arguments marring our engagement.” She glanced up at him, her gaze intense.
He sighed. “I know. I will try my best not to be a nuisance about this. But I want you safe and by my side for many years, love. If I think a situation
is going to turn dangerous…” He shook his head. “I won’t apologize for my actions because I will never be able to erase some of the things I’ve seen. Don’t ask that of me?”
Charlotte looked ahead. “Bad things are happening, darling. I know it’s your job to try and stop whoever is doing them. And although you’ve been a soldier and seen your share of war, your face told me all I needed to know after that terrible night.”
She pulled his arm tightly against her body. “I promise I will never do anything foolhardy or silly. I don’t want to see that look again, ever. But I will also say that I promise to be at your side whenever I can. Don’t leave me out please? That would cause me pain. Better to talk to me and let us decide together what needs to be done.”
He nodded. “Agreed.” Then he smiled as a ray of sunlight actually appeared over the path ahead. “Could we possibly make a joint decision when we reach Applewood Cottage?”
She glanced up, her eyes alight with mischief. “What kind of decision would that be, Inspector?”
“Hmm.” He quickened their pace. “It might well require some very intense communication. One that takes place best without the distraction of clothing.”
“Ahh.” She looked intrigued. “I believe I would very much enjoy such a discussion.” Her tongue slid out and licked her lips. “Very much indeed.”
He fought the urge to break into a run.
Chapter Four
Gerolf hesitated at Lady Alwynne’s door, unsure of whom he would find within the parlor.
Certainly not the vibrantly seductive woman he’d met for the first time one snowy night. Nor the shattered shell of a woman he’d wrapped in a blanket, knowing she did not see him, or know him. She had simply bled from her body and her soul, steeped in the terrible fog of violence and terror.
He calmed himself, meditating for a few moments, centering his breath and his focus.
He was pleasantly surprised to find his hostess seated in a feminine overstuffed chair near a blazing fire. Winter sunlight filled the room, touching her pale blonde hair and turning it into an angelic aura.
She was wrapped in a rich blue robe, buttoned to her neck with a single frill of lace cascading down over her shoulders. Matching lace fell from her wrist as she raised her hand to him.
“Baron, how kind of you to visit. Forgive my not rising.”
Her eyes were cool, unblinking, studying him as he crossed the room to take her fingers and gently press them to his lips. “My Lady. I am honored you allowed me to come.”
She indicated a chair opposite. “They tell me I should begin to interact with people again.”
“Who tells you, my Lady?”
“My maids. And two doctors who came from London not long ago.” Her gaze turned to the flames in the hearth. “They said I needed companionship to help me move forward.”
“Perhaps they were right. I cannot say.” Gerolf watched her. “Might I ask how you are feeling today?”
She lifted her hands and locked her fingers, stretching her arms out in front of her in an oddly casual move. “I improve, Baron. I improve.”
“That is good news indeed. So many of us have been waiting to hear those words.”
“Really?” She looked at him. “How nice.”
He let the silence fall for a moment or two while he gathered his impressions. She was—perfect. Physical beauty of an ethereal nature. Unadorned, almost severe, her hair was pulled back, highlighting the bone structure underlying her white skin.
She was thin, without doubt. She’d suffered an ordeal that would have surely killed a lesser woman. But her hands were steady and her voice smooth.
“May I ask you something, Baron?”
“Of course. Anything.”
“I am aware you have a profound interest in the human mind. So I would like your opinion.” She shifted very slightly in her chair and rearranged her blanket to her satisfaction.
Delaying techniques perhaps? He wasn’t sure. He simply waited.
“As I said, I’m told by my physicians that I should begin to break my solitude. Interact more with the household and perhaps consider entertaining a guest or two.” She gave a very slight smile. “They seem to think that my recovery will be best served by my pretending to be the Lady of the Manor.”
Gerolf thought for a few moments. “If you feel you would be pretending, my Lady, then I could not—in all conscience—endorse such a suggestion. However, if you can begin to accept that you are now, and always have been, the much-admired doyenne of Harbury Hall, then yes.”
He leaned back, knowing he had her attention. “The human mind, as you so rightly averred, is my life’s study, and yet I cannot pretend to have understood more than the smallest portion of its capabilities. Its possibilities? Endless. My work has shown me more of what I can never comprehend, than what I will eventually know.”
He paused, hoping she was following his discourse. “So I won’t insult you by saying I can understand what you have suffered. I would venture an assumption that you are, physically, well on the road to recovery. Psychologically, the scars will also fade with time. But such mental healing is not a bandage and liniment regimen. It is more a progressive move into new areas, leaving the old ones behind. One cannot obliterate one’s memories, my Lady. One can only learn to put them in their place.”
She swallowed, a graceful ripple of pale skin. “And how does one learn to do that, Baron?”
“I would be honored if you would allow me to assist.” He dipped his head respectfully. “I have some skill in helping those who have experienced… unpleasantness in their lives. Often it is as little as a few minutes of total relaxation, or it could be regular sessions of deep psychic exploration. Journeys through memories, both good and bad, that assist the mind in categorizing them, putting them into their correct places. Diminishing their importance, if you will.”
He paused, observed her intense interest, and then continued. “I could show you if you would care to try?”
Her expression remained unchanged, blank and uncommunicative. He couldn’t read her as well as he would have liked.
But then she lifted one hand. “Show me.”
“Very well.” He stood and glanced at a small side chair. “With your permission?”
She nodded.
He moved the chair close to hers, sitting down to one side, facing her. “If you would give me your hands.” He held out his own, palms up, encouraging her to place hers downward on top. They were cool to the touch, almost waxen. It was difficult for him to sense even the slight vibration of nerve endings or the pulse of blood through her veins.
She was a living statue with a weakened spirit…or perhaps it was firmly suppressed. He had to discover which.
“Close your eyes, Lady Alwynne. Relax. You are perfectly safe here. Safe and warm.”
He began to gently stroke the silky skin of her hands with his thumbs, speaking softly and melodically, urging her to simply let her mind drift free. As he continued his well-rehearsed soliloquy, he watched for the tell-tale signs—the deepening of her breathing and the easing of her facial features.
It was damned hard.
She had been unreadable during their conversation, her voice level, her pulse steady. Her eyes had given away nothing of her inner state, nor had there been the tiniest tremor to betray emotions.
And yet as he uttered the words that he knew should instill a sense of quietude and tranquility, there was a subtle change in her demeanor. The firmness of her lips softened just a little, and her shoulders seemed to lower slightly beneath the elegant robe and lace collar.
For the first time he caught a glimpse of the slow throb beneath the skin of her throat, and saw a touch of color rise to her cheeks.
She was following his instructions, responding to his directive. She was approaching a state of relaxation that opened her mind to his suggestion.
He had not failed with any of the patients and clients he’d worked with in his past.
He would not fa
il Alwynne Harbury.
*~~*~~*
Portia found herself in the unusual position of having absolutely nothing to do. James and Charlotte were out walking, and Devon had been called to Lord Southfield’s estate.
The Lord Lieutenant of the County was one of the few admitted to the secret of Devon’s identity and was working with Burke and several men in London to amass sufficient documentation and evidence to do two things—restore Devon to his rightful heritage and ensure the Harburys answered for their many crimes.
She stared from the window wondering if she’d prefer a cup of tea or a walk. The tea would keep her in the warm, and ready for whatever Charlotte might decide to do upon her return. But heaven knew when that might be. She and Burke seemed to be finding a great deal of pleasure in each other’s company, and who was Portia to complain, since she’d willingly spend the day and the night with Devon if she could.
The sun broke through the clouds and the dazzle of light on snow lured her more than the thought of a warm cuppa. She slipped on her cloak, buttoned her boots and found a hat, scarf and mittens.
Thus attired, she opened the front door and took a breath of crisp cold air, noting the blue sky that grew ever more bright as the clouds scudded away to the east.
It was going to be a lovely afternoon and she was going to enjoy it.
Walking from the cottage, she took the lane leading to the village of Little Harbury. Her hope was that she might meet up with Charlotte and the Inspector, or someone else she knew coming this way from the village.
The deliveries would already have been made; the roads were still snow-covered, but quite passable, so it was unlikely any tradespeople would still be about.
But one never knew. She strode off, wrapping her cloak snugly around her neck and enjoying the crunch of the icy stuff beneath her heels. The breeze was sharp enough to make her turn her collar up as far as it would go to meet her hat, and knot the scarf snugly to keep her neck warm. Her breath clouded as she walked and she blew little puffs like a steam engine just for fun.
