Henry’s eyes narrowed. “Go ahead, ace, shoot me.”
The gun clicked. Luc threw it at his head. Henry ducked and rested Alex next to the front door as Luc charged him.
Luc tried a right jab, but Henry caught his fist in his left hand and returned a right elbow into his face.
Blood sprayed from Luc’s nose, but didn’t slow his attack. He kicked up at Henry and hit him in the gut. The thickness of the vest softened the blow. Henry pushed forward. The venom racing through his veins powered his left hand into a crunching punch at Luc’s chest. The strike was hard enough to break a rib.
“That’s for Alex’s broken rib.”
Henry’s long arm span proved advantageous against the short-limbed Luc, allowing his left fist to connect with Luc’s face. More blood splattered from his nose. They continued swinging at each other. Henry propelled Luc into the gallery and away from Alex.
Luc tried to fight back, but Henry was stronger. He rammed his foot into Luc’s knee until it popped. Luc fell to the floor with a bellow.
“That’s for Alex’s leg.”
Henry leaned against the wall, chest heaving and lungs aching from the smoke. Staring at him from no more than twenty feet away, Lady Elizabeth graced the smoldering walls. Son of a bitch. Smoke filled the space as the fire rushed through the adjacent rooms. Getting Alex to safety was his main priority, not getting revenge or even the painting. He turned to leave Luc to die in the fire.
Stupid move. Luc grabbed a statue and flung it toward Henry’s head. He ducked, but a corner of it nicked his temple. The pain pushed him off balance and into the wall next to an iron trident hung on loose pegs. Limping, Luc loomed closer, throwing anything within his reach. Eyes wild with anger, Luc lifted a large marble bust over his head. Henry executed a roundhouse kick to Luc’s face, swiping at his arms in the process. The bust fell to the floor, but Luc remained upright on the broken leg and ten gallons of adrenaline.
Henry reached for the trident and spun the staff toward Luc. “Hurry up. I have a widow to console.”
Luc rushed him, but Henry sidestepped the assault, spun around, and speared him through the side of his neck. When he pulled the spear back, Luc fell to the floor, dead.
Henry stumbled through the gallery toward the front door. He didn’t want to be a hero. He wanted a brandy, a good book, and a woman named Alex.
Simon, looking beat-up himself, strode into the gallery, holding her. “We need to leave now.”
Henry glanced back at the portrait on the verge of being swallowed up in the fire and nodded.
Staring at the blood pooling from the back of Henry’s hand, Simon furrowed his eyebrows. “Are you okay?”
“I will be when Alex gets to the hospital.” Henry followed his brother to the door, watching several strands of Alex’s hair that had fallen out of the blanket sway with each of Simon’s steps. “Where’s your contact?”
With a stone-cold face, Simon signaled with a nod toward the upstairs. “Dead. Let’s go.”
Chapter Thirty-One
The trip back to the house in Oxford took two weeks. Alex required surgery on her leg and time to allow the rest of her injuries to improve before attempting the journey. Henry and Alex made the trip without Simon. He’d disappeared after getting them both to the hospital. He told Henry he’d be in touch. So far, he hadn’t even sent a text.
With Simon gone, Alex adopted his recliner as her favorite place to prop up her feet. Henry stood in the doorway of the den and enjoyed the sight of her healing and growing whole again. Immersed in a book, she hummed Vivaldi between sips of tea, while wearing a baggy Oxford sweatshirt. Her loose skirt hung over the edge of the footrest and a small fleece blanket covered her lap.
“Henry, if you’re going to stare at me and get all sentimental and sappy, I’m going to have to check into a hotel. You’re becoming pathetic.”
He loved her attitude. “It’s nice to see you home finally.”
She shut the book and placed it on the table next to her. “Remember, this is only a resting stop for me. I have bigger and better things to do than sit around all day sipping tea. You’re an anchor on my ambitions.”
He would support any decision she made, but would do everything in his power to convince her that her place was with him. “Really? You have ambitions?”
“I was thinking of finding a new job.”
“A job?” After all the suffering she went through, she needed to rest.
“Unlike the aristocracy of England, some people need to work.”
Henry laughed. “An heiress to a biotech fortune needs the money less than I do.”
“It’s not always about the money. Perhaps my father should donate my trust fund to your family foundation, or maybe I’ll start a foundation here to help organizations like the Ripon Women’s Group. If you let me, my first priority will be to renovate the wing.”
He’d let her redesign the entire castle in fluorescent colors if she stayed.
“You also have to contend with Luc’s inheritance. What will you do with several million euros?”
“That one is easy. I’m donating the money to the countries that’ve had their treasures stolen from pirates like Luc. I hope it helps return some of them to their rightful owners.”
“I’m proud of you.”
“I’m proud of you, too. You rescued me, despite the dangers, although I’m glad Simon was there with you.”
“I more than held my own.” He lifted his hand. It was still wrapped up, but an inventive surgeon replaced the lost bone and made his hand functional.
“From what Simon told me, you saved my life and his, too. Not bad for a navy medic.”
“Don’t forget my stint in food preparation.”
“How could I forget?”
“Simon needs credit, too, for providing the weapons and keeping me sane enough to rescue you.”
“He’d be even more heroic if he didn’t disappear after telling me all the amazing things you did to save me.”
Simon’s job required him to disappear now and then. In this case, he also needed to separate himself from the three bodies found in Luc’s house. Henry would miss his companionship and his cooking. “He’ll be back after he ties up some loose ends.”
“I hope so, but I’m keeping the chair until I leave.”
“Agreed.” Henry patted his pocket. She couldn’t leave him. They were both capable of surviving alone, but were far better together, like bangers and mash. He sat on the edge of the recliner and brushed his good fingers through her hair. She leaned into his caress, and they both existed in each other’s company for a few moments.
“You left something with me a few weeks ago. It belongs to you.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the engagement ring, lifted her hand, and slid it onto her finger.
She stared at it. “I love this ring, but I can’t wear it.”
“Why not?” Henry’s heartbeat raced. He wanted to marry her for real. With her in his life, everything made sense. Everything had more depth and meaning and fun.
She held her hand out and continued to examine the ring. She shook her head. “It belongs to the Countess of Ripon. Mr. Baum will implode if he knows you’ve handed it over to some American commoner.”
“You’re not common. Besides, my uncle used a few of his political connections to remove Mr. Baum from his post.”
“Powerful family. Perhaps the next trustee will care about the Ripon Women’s Group. It almost makes me want to stay and help out. Transforming back into a Northrop instead of a Lemoine, however, means I can’t live in sin with my boyfriend. I need something more permanent. Bostonians are far more conservative than Parisians.”
Henry grimaced at how difficult Alex was being, but then his smile broke through as he realized what she’d said.
“Since marriage to me would be as permanent as it gets, will you agree to be my countess?” The hole in his heart filled completely. Alex wanted to marry him.
“No.” She sighed
and continued to assess the ring. “I’ve agreed to be your wife. I’m not some damsel in a Regency novel. This is the twenty-first century, and I don’t particularly want an earl.”
“If you hate earls so much, why do you have ER tattooed here?” He brushed his hand over her breast and let it linger.
She slid her hand up his arm and rested her head on his shoulder. “For practical reasons. They were the only letters I could make out of L and P without missing the train to New England.”
“To me, it’ll always mean your undying love and devotion to me.” Henry kissed her temple.
She sighed in response. “Whatever. We still need to negotiate this whole title thing. It would ruin my creative reputation to be a stuffy countess. Perhaps you could abdicate.”
“One doesn’t abdicate a title, only a throne. You must have missed that when reading your books in the barn.”
“The barn was pretty small. Why don’t you give the title to your uncle?”
“If you’d like, but we’d have to give up the castle and the hedge maze. They go along with the title. And he’d never allow the Ripon’s Women Group to use the east wing.”
Henry could see Alex figuring out the algebraic computation that made an heiress into a countess from a rebel goddess minus the castle and maze multiplied by the joy she’d give to the families in need.
She quirked her mouth to the side and shrugged her shoulders. “I guess I could accept the title for the opportunity to work with your little charity thing.”
Henry laughed and squeezed her as tightly as he could without hurting her broken ribs. “My aunt and uncle think you’d be a brilliant countess.”
“They also think your position at the university is cute. Not the people I’d base my future reputation on.”
“Come. I’ve made dinner. We can discuss what everyone will call you while we eat.” Henry helped her out of the chair and placed her crutches in her hands.
On the way to the kitchen, they wandered through the gallery. Lady Elizabeth sat on her horse and peered down her nose at the earl.
Alex stared ahead at a small landscape Henry had acquired from a local artist when visiting the Isle of Skye several years ago. “See the way the artist melded the oils with the acrylic paint. It adds a depth you can’t achieve with one type of medium.”
Henry moved toward her. “As interesting as that may be, I like it because it reminds me of a trip my mother and I took to the ocean, away from my father. My mother laughed the entire week. I’d never been so happy, until now. I love you, Alex.”
Placing both crutches in her left arm, Alex tightened her grip on Henry. “I think I’ve loved you since that first kiss in the maze, Lord Henry.”
He leaned over and kissed her, closing his eyes, savoring her taste. Careful to not hurt the broken bone in her cheek or harm the many bruises that had faded to shadows of her injuries, he breathed in the scent of jasmine tea and a cinnamon roll she’d purchased at the local bakery. It would have been a perfect moment, if she’d reciprocated the kiss. Her mouth, however, remained on his, frozen in one position, a frown. He glanced down to see Alex gaping at Lady Elizabeth.
“That’s Lady Elizabeth,” she announced.
“We should call this version Lady Elizabeth Gillett, the Second.”
Alex shook her head. “No, the real Lady Elizabeth.”
Henry continued to hold her, but turned his attention to the painting. Sure enough, the blue eyes had faded to a softer hue.
It didn’t make sense. “I saw the painting catch fire in Paris.”
“Which version?” She limped over to the portrait and brushed a finger over the muzzle of the horse.
“I didn’t stop to analyze the colors in the painting while fending off Luc.” How could the painting have been switched again, unless… Simon. His brother had better contact him soon.
“Sorry.” She hugged him and rested her head on his shoulder. “I wish I saw you all heroic and masculine.”
“I’m masculine enough to not have to show you how heroic I am.”
“Yet another reason I love you.”
…
Alex hobbled out of Ripon Manor and walked through the rose garden, carrying a single orange rose. Her limp was less pronounced, and her leg felt much better since her final surgery a few weeks before. Her gown, made of white organza tied with an orange satin sash around her waist, blew in the crisp autumn air.
Julia and Anna strolled in front of her wearing tea-length tangerine dresses, while Rachel rushed into the maze in a white dress decorated with orange polka dots. The little girl didn’t look as though a car had struck her six months ago. She’d made a much quicker recovery from her ordeal than her aunt did from Luc’s rage.
Peter Northrop met his daughter at the entrance and tucked her arm into his. His pace slowed to assist her. He always appeared strong, capable, and in control, but he’d never had control of Alex, and the frustration of that tended to crease his brow. “It’s nice to see you so happy. You’re a beautiful bride, although I think something a bit more traditional would have been preferable.”
“I’m wearing mostly white.” She brushed her hand across her orange sash.
Peter shook his head. “Obtaining a title will place your life under more scrutiny than you ever had with us.”
He still didn’t get it. Henry wasn’t marrying her for her fortune, and she wasn’t marrying him for his title, although the castle was a nice bonus. They respected each other. They cared about each other’s past, present, and future. They loved each other. And they both desired to start a family, no matter what form that family might take.
“Trust me, becoming the Countess of Ripon will be a cakewalk compared to living as Peter Northrop’s daughter. At least Henry likes me no matter what I wear or do.”
One of his eyebrows arched up. “Orange hair included?”
“Orange hair included. Although if you want to be technical, it’s only a couple of orange extensions.”
They turned the final corner. The few guests invited to the ceremony, immediate family and a local minister, stood in the middle of the maze near the spot Henry had first kissed her. There would be a large reception for everyone else later in the afternoon.
The real Gabrielle, her elegant mother, stood next to Alex’s sisters and Jason. Alex released her father and stepped carefully to her mother’s side. Her father had only taken her so far in life. He’d only escort her on part of this journey as well. Someday, they might try to work out their differences, but not on her wedding day.
Her mother clasped her hands. A rare tear cascaded down her cheek. “You look unique and incredibly beautiful. Thank you for including us in this special day.”
“I’m glad you’re all here.”
They hugged. Alex had lost years with her family due to the stubborn streak she’d inherited from her father. No longer. She wanted them all back in her life, even Peter.
She released her mother as her sisters pushed their way into her arms.
When she finished greeting her family and Henry’s aunt and uncle, she turned her attention to the sexy gentleman attired in a black tuxedo. Henry Elliott Chilton, Earl of Ripon, professor of anthropology, and hero of her heart. Henry took her hands and pulled her into her comfort zone.
“I feel the need to say some incredibly sentimental drivel that will cause your eyes to roll to the back of your head.” Henry tilted her chin up to look at him.
“Go ahead. It’s a wedding, after all.” She brushed a kiss across his lips and sighed. He tasted like hot chocolate savored by a roaring fire in the great hall.
He cleared his throat and tugged her closer. “I never believed I’d find a perfect someone with intelligence, humor, integrity, and beauty to spend my life with, but you crashed my dinner party and my heart. Thank you for agreeing to marry me, despite my title and boring profession.”
When he kissed her, he dominated her senses and clouded her mind with silly hearts and songs and butterfly wings. His
hands cradled her face as he continued his invasion. She surrendered. If he didn’t stop soon, they’d never get to the ’til death do us part part. He pulled back, his eyes glinting with a mischievous expression. The separation left her wanting and needy. He’d kissed her to oblivion.
Alex could barely breathe. “A man could get lucky with fancy words like that.”
“That’s my intent, Sunshine. That’s my intent.”
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Acknowledgments
Thanks to:
Paige Wheeler, who during my first pitch ever suggested I add a third sister to my first manuscript ever to create a more marketable series. That third sister turned out to be Alexandra Northrop. The other two sisters lost their own stories and became supporting characters for Alex.
Jenny Bent, for telling me to change the title Cerulean Eyes, Sapphire Hearts, because no one would be able to pronounce or spell “cerulean.”
Chris Keesler, for coming up with the title Untrue Colors.
Susan Scott Shelley, Jacqueline Jayne, Kate Forest, Betty Bolte, and Stephanie Julian, for critiquing the book and helping me through the highs and lows of being a new author.
Barbara, Ronald, Stephen, Linda, Adrienne, Deb, and Jodi, for taking the time to read the story for flaws.
Michelle Grajkowski, my agent, for believing in this story.
Candace Havens, my editor, for taking my writing, my plot, and my character-building to a higher level.
Everyone at Entangled Publishing, for supporting a dark romantic thriller.
Jim, for love, support, and the beautiful writing space with a view.
Sophia, for not only reading and editing my work before anyone else, but for also inspiring me to write about a clever heroine who loves bacon.
Vivienne, for using her amazing imagination to help name characters and challenge scenes.
Untrue Colors (Entangled Select Suspense) Page 25
