by Clare Revell
“Nope. Now every time he suggests a short cut we just mention the hill with three crosses on.” She reached out and took his hand.
Warmth rushed up his arm and coiled around his middle.
“I didn’t think I’d find you. The hotel said you’d checked in already and left my key for me.”
“I didn’t think you’d come, but I never got around to cancelling the rooms so I left it for you just in case. I figured I’d come up anyway; get away for the weekend as I had leave booked. Well some of it, I go back to work on Wednesday as I volunteered to be on call over Easter.”
Chloe squeezed his hand. “We need to talk.”
Nigel agreed. “Are you here alone?”
“Yes, I came up on the flight you didn’t cancel. Then I caught a train here. The hotel has a lounge. We could talk there over coffee.”
17
Nigel had never understood the expression, on tenterhooks, until now. It really did feel as though every part of him had been stretched out to dry. He was sure everyone knew what was going on. That his already broken heart was being poured out and broken afresh. Why else would she have come all this way?
He brought the coffee over to the table and sat. He looked at her.
Chloe pulled an envelope from her bag and held it out to him. “I had Adam draw this up.”
Nigel took the document and read it.
“It negates the one we signed,” she explained. “You don’t owe me anything.”
“I would have found the money somehow. OK, I have no idea where from as I don’t make anywhere near that amount in a year.”
“Nigel, stop. It’s isn’t about the money or the price tag or the bling or anything else.”
“Isn’t it?”
“No.” She reached out and took his hand. “You were a decent, cute bloke when you were rich and now you’re poor you are still a decent, cute bloke.”
“Cute?”
“Yeah.”
He shook his head. “I think you have the wrong brother. Archie’s the good looking one. I’m just plain and now I have this scar and…”
“Piffle.”
He snorted on his coffee. “Piffle? What kind of a word is piffle?”
“It’s a great word. It means rubbish, claptrap, drivel, and worth several points in word games.”
He laughed. “I know what it means, but I don’t understand the context.”
She tilted her head. “I like the scar. It improves your cuteness.”
“Now that really isn’t a word.”
“It ought to be.” The light caught the ring on her left hand, making it sparkle.
Nigel frowned. “You’re still wearing it.” Surely she hadn’t misunderstood him?
“The thing is, Dr. Turner, it never was about the money. OK, it would have meant I’d be settled for life. I could do stuff I’d never have dreamed of, fund the mission school in Kenya for a long time, teach ballet because it’s fun and not have to worry about eating and paying the rent, but that wasn’t the reason I agreed to marry you. I figured a year would be more than enough time to make you fall in love with me.”
His heart pounded and leapt into his throat. “I—”
“Let me finish. I have loved you from the moment those flowers arrived for my birthday. I felt bad for not meeting you then, especially with your short time frame, and then you go and do something like that. Expensive flowers, by post, to someone you hardly knew and who’d let you down big time. So, there you have it. I love you, Nigel Darcy Turner. I’ve been trying to tell you all week, but you didn’t answer your phone.”
“It was a busy week at work with two murders. But that was you. It came up number unknown. If I’d realized it was you I’d have answered.”
“I changed my number. I had a whole load of silent calls and the police said that was the best way to deal with it. Again, if you’d answered you’d know that.” She winked. “My turn to creep you out, I guess.”
“True.” He paused. “Wait a minute. Did you say you love me?”
She grinned. “Several times. And yes, I love you, hook, line, and sinker and whatever other cliché you wish to use.”
He kissed her fingers. “I love you too. I wasn’t expecting to, but I do. I admit my intentions were less than pure at first, but these past two weeks with no contact have been awful. All I could think about was you.” He sucked in a deep breath. “I have a confession to make.”
“Another one? What have you done this time?”
“I overheard you talking to Archie the day before we broke up. When I broke things off, I looked at you, longing for you to tell me you loved me, despite the huge mess I’d made of everything. But you didn’t. I assumed you no longer did.”
Chloe held his gaze. “So these marriage vows say something about richer and poorer, right?” As he nodded, her eyes lit up. “So how about we ditch the richer and get married for poorer instead. But for the right reasons and not just in name only.”
He glanced at his watch. “It’s not February twenty-ninth.”
“And that’s gonna matter because?”
He leaned forwards and captured her lips with his. With the table between them, it wasn’t the mind blowing kiss he wanted to give her, but he’d do that in a minute. “Yes, I’ll marry you. And I have a confession to make. I didn’t cancel the wedding either.”
“I know. I checked. I packed my dress. We can still get married tomorrow.”
He moved around the table and sat beside her. “But what about your family and Archie?”
“All I have to do is text Dad and they’ll all meet us there.”
“But I cancelled my leave. I go back to work on Wednesday.”
She rolled her eyes. “Stop making excuses. We have the rest of our lives for a honeymoon.”
He pulled her close and kissed her, rivers of pleasure running through him, setting him ablaze. Then he pulled back. “Wait a minute. What about the lawyer?”
“Stuff the lawyer,” Chloe murmured. “Weddings are for families not lawyers. Now shut up and kiss me.”
18
Day 41
Palm Sunday March 25
The overnight snowfall made everything sparkle. The lone piper played the bagpipes as Nigel led his bride out in to the courtyard. The service in the Blacksmith’s shop over the traditional anvil, had been short, lasting only twenty minutes, but then it was a civil wedding.
Chloe’s pale pink dress fell just below her knees, the white jacket cinched at the waist. She had one of those fascinator lace things in her hair. He knew she wasn’t getting a traditional dress and veil, but he hadn’t imagined a suit.
Her radiant smile lit her face. “Penny for them.”
“I was just thinking about your dress.”
Chloe glanced down. “I said it would be practical and reusable. Don’t you like it?”
He paused not wanting to upset her. “No, I do. I just half expected you to get a short white dress with the puffy skirt and all those layers of stiff lace underneath it.”
“A ballerina dress?” Chloe laughed. “I have enough of those at work, thank you very much.”
“I guess.” Nigel wrapped his arm around her, as they posed for photos.
She leaned into him. “I was thinking. How about a church blessing in the summer? That way we can invite lots of people.”
Nigel laughed. “That sounds like a good idea.” Confetti landed in her hair, and he brushed it away. “But would you wear a dress this time?”
Chloe grinned. “I might do. I did see one I really liked when I was out shopping for this one.” She gazed up at him. “If you want to marry me again, that is.”
“You mean properly, in the sight of God.”
Her eyes twinkled. “I didn’t say that.”
He chuckled, kissing her deeply. “No. I did.”
Archie stuffed a hand full of confetti down the back of Nigel’s shirt, making him squirm. “Marry in haste, forget the honeymoon, is it?”
“I’m on call
over the Easter weekend,” Nigel said. “When I called off the engagement, I cancelled my leave, but forgot to cancel the wedding and the flights and the hotel rooms. We hadn’t got as far as booking a honeymoon, but as soon as my on-call is out the way, we’ll find somewhere nice, hot and sunny.”
“Typical Nigel,” scoffed his brother. “Always putting work first. So, what are you going to do with all this money you’ve inherited?” He grinned. “And aren’t you glad I invited the lawyer?”
“The Heritage Organization is still taking over the house after Easter. We’ve decided to live off my wages, so the money can just sit in the bank—after the dogs’ home gets a sizable donation. Besides, knowing Dad there’s bound to be another codicil that says we need to have fifteen kids first.”
“Only fifteen?” Chloe asked in mock horror.
“Unless you want more.” He kissed her nose.
“Fifteen kids is fine.” She grinned at her parents. “Start saving. Christmas is gonna be expensive with all those grandkids.” She turned to Nigel. “Can you afford a mansion on your salary then?”
“Chloe?” called a voice.
Nigel looked over his shoulder as Chloe stiffened in his arms. “What is it?”
“Leon. He’s lost a lot of weight.”
Nigel wrapped both arms around her protectively. “It’s OK. We’re here.”
Chloe nodded as the others surrounded behind them.
The ginger-haired man with dull green eyes strode over to them. “Chloe, I thought it was you.”
“Hello, Leon. How are you?”
“Fine.” Leon gazed at Nigel and scowled.
Nigel recognized the voice as one of the men who’d assaulted him, and wondered again if there was a connection between that and Chloe’s car being written off.
“This is my husband, Nigel,” Chloe said. “His brother, Archie. And of course, you know my parents, and Caleb and his wife.”
Leon didn’t take his eyes off Chloe. “Could I have a word? Alone. In private.”
She shook her head. “No, you may not. I’ve got nothing to hide. Whatever you’ve got to say to me, you can say in front of my husband.”
Leon scowled.
“Let us at least finish the photos, then you can talk.” Nigel said. “We’re on a tight schedule here as there is another wedding in a few minutes.”
Leon took three paces back.
Nigel glanced at Caleb. He’d given chase to the muggers, got his wallet back. Was he in on it or had he known it was Leon?
The photographer finished and looked at Nigel. “I’ll give you a receipt and you can arrange to have the books posted home.”
Chloe squeezed Nigel’s arm. “Let me talk to Leon, whilst you sort out the photographer. I’ll stay in your line of sight at all times, I promise.”
Nigel agreed reluctantly. “OK. But I’m not happy about it.” He kissed her. Softly at first, then passionately, not caring who was watching.
“Let me handle the photographer,” Mr. Wilkes said. “You watch my daughter.”
“OK.” Nigel took a step towards Caleb, keeping an eye on Chloe. “Did you know?” he hissed.
Caleb also kept his gaze on his sister. “Not at first—he wore a mask. And I told the cops so too. But after Chloe’s car got smashed up and all those silent calls? I had a pretty good idea it was him. Archie’s on the phone to the cops now. We just need to keep Leon here.”
“If he so much as lays a finger on her…”
“I know. Me, too. Although, I don’t think you getting arrested on your wedding day is a good move.”
“Probably not,” Nigel said. He wished his stomach would stop turning. Surely Leon wouldn’t be stupid enough to try anything in public.
Voices rose and Chloe turned away, starting to head back towards Nigel. She gasped as Leon reached out and grabbed her arm tightly.
Nigel started to move. “Get your hands off my wife,” he shouted, extending his arm out towards him.
“Or you’ll what?” Leon held her firmly with a smirk on his face. “I want what I’m owed. And you’re going to give it to me.” He pulled Chloe tightly against his chest, and put a knife to her throat. “No one will employ me since she complained.”
Color drained from Chloe’s face but she didn’t move. “I didn’t say a word. I told everybody I broke my leg when I fell.”
“You owe me.” He hissed, nicking her throat with the knife. A single drop of blood, trickled down her throat. “And now you can afford to pay me.”
Chloe started shaking. “Actually, you owe me. You dropped me because you were drunk. Like you’ve done with countless others. Only unlike them, I can never dance professionally again. I know who did complain, but it wasn’t me.”
“Tell me.” He pulled her closer towards him.
“So you can end their career, too? I’m not that mean. I forgave you a long time ago.”
Three police cars pulled up.
“You called the cops?”
“Actually, I did,” Archie told him. He stood beside Nigel.
Caleb took a step forward and stood with the two men. “Both Nigel and I can ID you as the man who assaulted him last month. You’re not getting away with it this time. Or with trashing Chloe’s car. We know that was you. And it’s a fair bet you’re the reason she had to change her phone number. All those silent calls the past few weeks?”
“You can’t prove it. You seem to forget who’s holding all the cards. I’ll kill her.”
Bile rose in Nigel’s throat and his stomach pitted. He couldn’t lose her. Not now. Half of him wanted to rush Leon and get Chloe back, but he knew it would only result in her getting hurt. He swallowed. “Let her go,” he managed past the huge lump in his throat, “And you can have whatever you want.”
He was aware of the police working behind them to secure the area, but his main focus was Chloe. “I mean it. How much would it take for you to leave us, her, alone?”
One of the police officers touched his arm. “Let us handle this, Dr. Turner.”
Nigel shook his head. “I’ve got this.”
“Are you a trained hostage investigator?” asked the cop sarcastically.
“No. I’m a home office pathologist. I know what I’m doing.” He looked back at Leon. “Those cops are probably armed, because I know some of the Scottish ones are. I don’t think you want to end up dead. And I don’t think you want Chloe dead either. Nor do I. So, how much will it take to let her go?”
Chloe looked at him. “Nigel, you don’t have to. In fact, I’d rather you didn’t. What’s rule one? Never negotiate with terrorists.”
“I’m not a terrorist.” Leon spat digging the knife in harder.
Nigel thought quickly. He would only get one chance at this. He glanced at his brother. “Archie, do you remember when we were kids? And we used to play Thunder and Lightning?”
Recognition glimmered in Archie’ eyes. “You always did like violent games.” He nudged Caleb and said something quietly.
Caleb chuckled. “We used to play something similar, Clo. Only we called it knock down ginger.”
Chloe’s eyes widened, and Nigel assumed she knew what they meant.
Nigel cleared his throat. “So, I was thinking, perhaps a three pronged payment?”
Leon narrowed his eyes. “I want two hundred, fifty thousand.”
Nigel nodded. “Let her go and you can have it, in cash or paid into your account in the next few minutes. I can do that from my phone.”
Leon scowled. “Do you think I’m stupid?”
Nigel sent up telegram prayers that this would work. “I’m banking on it.” He lunged at Leon, Archie and Caleb joining in from the sides. Nigel grabbed Leon’s hand, forcing the knife away from Chloe’s throat.
Leon let go of Chloe, and Caleb dragged her to the side.
Leon swung with his other hand, knocking Nigel to the ground. Nigel didn’t let go of Leon, tugging him to the ground beside him. Archie immediately put his foot on Leon, preventing him
from moving.
The police ran across, and arrested Leon.
Nigel stood and ran over to Chloe, who was being seen to by a paramedic. “Are you all right, hon?” he said.
“I’m fine. What about you? He could have killed you.” Chloe put a hand on Nigel’s face.
He kissed her fingers gently. “I love you. I would die for you.” He paused. “Like Pastor Jacob said in church last week. A husband has to love his wife just like Christ loves the church. And therefore has to be willing to die for her.”
Chloe held him tightly. “But you can take Easter too literally, you know. I’m not ready to be a widow and a wife on the same day.”
The police officers came over. “We’ll need statements from both of you. I appreciate this is your wedding day and you have a reception to get to. But it will only take a few minutes.”
Nigel looked at Chloe. “What do you think, Mrs. Turner?”
Chloe grinned. “I think I like my new name. I know that’s not the answer to the question, Dr. Turner. But yes, we’ll do the statements now. Put this chapter behind us, and get on with the rest of our lives. Look at it this way, the grandchildren will never believe this story when we tell them.”
He chuckled. “All fifteen of them?”
“I thought it was fifteen kids? If they have fifteen each then that’s…”
Nigel silenced her with a kiss. Way too many to count…
19
Day 48
Easter Sunday April 1
Nigel glanced up as Chloe padded into the kitchen, her pink dress touching her in all the right places. She held an envelope in her hand. “What you got there, love?”
“I don’t know. It was on the mat by the front door. It’s addressed to you.”
He took it and turned it over in his hands. “No post mark or stamp.”
Chloe poured herself a mug of coffee. “Better open it and find out then.”
“Hmmm.” He picked up his knife and slit the top of the envelope. He pulled out the paper and unfolded it. A small rectangular piece of paper fell to the table, narrowly missing the butter dish.
Chloe picked it up, glanced at it and did a double take. “How many zeros?”
