Romance Through the Ages

by Amy Harmon

  “Thank you,” I said.

  I carefully pulled the balloons into the elevator. They were attached to a bright pink bag that held a sweet, flowered sleeper, a white dress with pink embroidered tulips across the bodice and a soft, stuffed puppy—also pink.

  I knocked softly when I found Room 326.

  “Come in.” I pushed the door open and shepherded the bundle of balloons around a hospital curtain. “Hi Lizzie,” Laura said. “James, Lizzie’s here.”

  James stirred, making crackling sounds on the vinyl recliner where he’d been dozing. “Oh, hey Lizzie.”

  “Hi, you guys,” I said, but I wasn’t looking at them. I was looking at the tiny bundle in the bassinet beside Laura. I handed the gift and balloons off to James and leaned over the bassinet. “Can I hold her?”

  “Of course,” Laura said. I carefully picked her up. Her lips were making a tiny sucking motion and her eyes were squeezed shut. I held her close. She smelled wonderful.

  “She’s so beautiful,” I said.

  “Here, Liz. You can take this chair. I think I’m going to run home and shower and check in on Jonah.”

  “He’s been here since yesterday afternoon,” Laura said.

  James leaned over and kissed Laura goodbye and then kissed the baby’s cheek before hugging me around the shoulders.

  I sat in the chair James had left and gently rocked the baby. “What’s her name?”

  “Ava,” Laura said.

  “I love it. Pretty name for a pretty girl.” I kissed her forehead. “How are you feeling?” I asked Laura.

  “I feel great now. What’s going on with you? Your mom said your life has been crazy lately. Tell me what’s happening.”

  I told her about my new job with Emma Cho and about my breakup with Matt.

  “Are you doing okay?” she asked.

  “I really am. I’ve been feeling for a while like it wasn’t right.”

  “I guess it’s too much to expect that everything would work out perfectly just because he looked exactly like Mr. Darcy.”

  I sighed. “Not the most rational plans for finding the love of my life.”

  “I’m so glad to hear you say that. You know we’ve all worried about you for several years. You were so focused.”

  “You mean obsessed.”

  Laura laughed. “Yeah. Obsessed.”

  “Well, I’m over it. I’m no longer looking for Mr. Darcy.”

  “Whatever happened to the guy you were dating before you met Matt?”

  “He’s still around.” I smiled as I thought of Chad.

  “Okay, I sense a story here. Spill it.”

  I told her about Chad and my last conversation with him.

  “So he’s in love with you?”

  “I don’t know. He might be. He said I knew how he felt about me. I think I do, but he’s never actually told me.”

  “How do you feel about him?”

  “I’m pretty sure I’m in love with him.”

  “And what does he think about your break-up?”

  “I don’t know what he’ll think. He doesn’t know yet.”

  “Why haven’t you told him? He left it in your court. Don’t you want him to know where you stand?”

  “Of course I do. I just don’t want to seem too eager.” Laura shook her head. “What?” I asked.

  “Lizzie, when something is right, it’s okay to be eager.”

  * * *

  I didn’t go back to work after I left the hospital. Instead I drove home and changed into a pale gray dress with a yellow cardigan. I wanted to look pretty when I saw him. I called the high school and asked if there was swim practice today and was happy to learn there wasn’t.

  The clouds that had obscured the sun all morning had dissipated by the time I left my apartment. I told myself that was a good sign and then laughed at my silliness.

  But maybe it was. I wanted to believe it was. It had only been a few weeks since Chad and I had walked and talked together. Surely nothing had changed in that amount of time. Please let him feel the same.

  My nerves began playing peek-a-boo and by the time I pulled into the school parking lot, I was having trouble breathing. School hadn’t dismissed yet so the lot was full of assorted high school cars, everything from the fancy cars, gifts from wealthy parents, to the rusted out beaters that had to have limped into the parking lot.

  I drove around until I found Chad’s white Camry. There was nowhere to park by his car so I pulled around to the back row where I could see both the back of his car and the entrance to the school.

  And then I waited.

  I had a book with me but I didn’t want to read it and risk missing Chad walking to his car.

  A few minutes after I arrived three buses parked in front of the school, blocking my view of the doors. At three-ten, the bell rang and students started spilling out from between the buses into the parking lot. Some walked alone, others in groups.

  Cars started pulling out of parking spaces. A couple of horns honked. I couldn’t tell if they honked to avoid a parking lot collision or because the students were flirting. I remembered Dad telling me a high school parking lot is the most dangerous place on earth.

  Ten minutes after the bell rang, the buses released their air brakes and slowly pulled out of the parking lot. The space beside Chad’s Camry was now empty so I started the engine and pulled through to park next to him.

  Then I waited again.

  A few stragglers exited the building and then there was no one for several more minutes. The next wave of people was adults, probably teachers and administrators. They got in their cars and left.

  I debated whether to go into the school or not. I vaguely remembered where Chad’s classroom was but what if I took one way in while he took another way out. I didn’t want to miss him and as long as I had his car in sight, I knew I’d see him eventually.

  I wiped my damp hands on my dress and applied some new lip gloss. Every minute that passed left me a little more nervous, a little less sure this was a good idea.

  When something is right, it’s okay to be eager. I repeated Laura’s words in my mind.

  And then Chad walked out of the school. He was wearing a pair of brown corduroy pants and pale blue plaid shirt. He was walking with a student. It might have been the boy from his swim team who would be swimming for the ducks. The one whose parents were getting a divorce.

  They stopped on the sidewalk and talked for a few more minutes. Chad was a few inches taller than the boy. He smiled and patted the boy on the back. Man, he looked good.

  I reminded myself to breathe.

  The boy started walking down the sidewalk toward a different parking lot and Chad started walking toward me. Well, actually toward his car, but since I was by his car, it looked like he was walking toward me.

  I opened my car door and got out. I straightened my dress and stood by the door. Chad saw me when he was about thirty feet away. Thirty feet. Fourteen or fifteen regular steps. Twelve or so steps if you take a slightly longer stride. Eight or nine steps if you’re in a hurry.

  Chad made it to me in eight steps. He studied my face, questions in his eyes.

  “Hi,” I said.

  Neither of us spoke for a few moments. “What does this mean, Lizzie?”

  I tried to keep my voice strong and steady. “It means I’ve changed my dream.”

  Suddenly I was in Chad’s arms. And then my feet no longer touched the ground as Chad spun me around.

  Me feet came back to earth and Chad held me at arm’s length, his hands on my shoulders. “Are you sure?”

  I nodded. “I’m totally and completely sure.”

  Chad’s hands moved up to my face. He looked at me for a long moment and then he kissed me with so much intensity I wondered if I’d ever catch my breath. When he finally pulled away, he moaned and held me close. I could feel his heart racing and I didn’t want to move.

  “You know, Lizzie, I’m not much like Mr. Darcy.”

  I looked
up at him. “I don’t care about that at…”

  Chad cut off my words with a short kiss. “Shh. I want you to know that in one way, Mr. Darcy and I have a lot in common.” He smiled his sweet, beautiful, crooked smile and I smiled back.

  “And what way is that?” I asked.

  “Mr. Darcy is madly in love with Elizabeth. And so am I.”

  I wrapped my arms around Chad’s neck and kissed him again.

  Author’s Note

  Thank you for taking the time to read My Own Mr. Darcy. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. With all there is out there to read, I’m honored that you chose my book.

  If you enjoyed the book, I’d be ever so grateful if you’d leave a review on Goodreads or Amazon or anywhere else you share your thoughts on books. So many people decide what to read based on the good word of their friends. I’d love it if you’d help share the word.

  If you’d like to be notified of new releases, fill out the form on my sidebar HERE.

  I love to hear from readers. You can find me on my Facebook author page, Twitter, or you can email me at KareyWhite.com.

  Have a happily ever after day!

  Karey

  Other Works by Karey White

  For What it’s Worth

  Gifted

  About Karey White

  Karey grew up in Utah, Idaho, Oregon and Missouri. She attended Ricks College and Brigham Young University. Her first novel, Gifted, was a Whitney Award Finalist.

  She loves to travel, read, cook, and spend time with family and friends. She and her husband are the parents of four talented and wonderful children.

  Find out more about Karey at KareyWhite.com.

  Acknowledgments

  My name is on the front of this book, but only because there isn’t room for the names of all the people who have helped me.

  Thanks to my first readers—Dad, Mom, Veronica, Savannah, and Lori. You’re the ones who prod me along, asking for more. Thanks for your enthusiasm, your encouragement and your feedback. It helps so much.

  Thank you Rachael for helping me polish, for showing me the ropes and for your creative eye. Thank you Kathy for your marketing genius. You amaze me. Thank you to Savannah, Brandon and Natasha for a stunning cover. Thank you Robert for making me look good. Thanks to Cindy, Stephanie and Regina, for always being ready with an answer when I needed it.

  Thank you to my brothers and sisters and their families, who give me just the right mix of support, encouragement, constructive criticism, and downright mocking. You always help me know what needs tweaked.

  Thank you to Bruce, Veronica, Savannah and Joseph for giving me a reason to demand more of myself and who give me the courage to try new things.

  Thank you to Travis for never doubting my abilities and for being my leading man. I can honestly say that if I had to choose between you or Mr. Darcy walking across the meadow toward me, I’d choose you. (But I might ask you to wear a long coat.)

  And on behalf of at least half of the world, thank you Jane Austen!

  She Owns the Knight

  by Diane Darcy

  To Grandma Murphy, with love.

  And also for Brent, my own knight in shining armor,

  who is just as wonderful and clueless as Kellen.

  Prologue

  England, 1260

  “Is aught amiss?” Brows drawn together, Lord Kellen Marshall reached a hand to steady his wife. “Is it the babe?”

  Catherine set her goblet on the sideboard, but seemed unable to take her gaze from it. “You switched the cups?”

  “Aye. To give you the less cloudy, more pleasing drink. I’ll not have you drinking the dregs.” He gave her a smile, hoping, aching to receive one in return.

  Her face turned ashen.

  Kellen quickly set his drink aside, lifted her slight weight, and carried her swiftly to the bed to set her among quilts and pillows. He ran to the heavy wood door, threw it open, bellowed for help, then hurried back to where Catherine lay sweating, clutching her swollen belly. In the distance, people scrambled and orders thundered as Kellen lowered himself to her bedside.

  “’Tis Cowbane,” she whispered to him.

  “What?” Mouth gaping, he shook his head. “No. That cannot be.” Who would do such a thing? Who would dare to poison his wife?

  “You have ruined everything.” She turned away from him, pressing her face into the pillows, gagging and shuddering before rolling back to grip his surcoat, her face taut with fear. “Please. You must save me. Please.” She put a hand to her stomach. “The babe.”

  Several knights appeared in the doorway, “Find the midwife! Bring the healer!” Kellen roared the words.

  A wide-eyed servant rushed out of the chamber as others filled the entrance.

  Kellen gripped his wife’s cold hand as her breathing quickened and resignation set her face. “You cannot save me,” she said, tears filling her eyes. “’Tis not possible.”

  Her breathing became labored, her throat violently clenched, and her entire body tightened, head thrown back.

  Kellen, every muscle in his body constricting with panic, shook her shoulders. “Catherine!”

  She took a loud, gasping breath, then relaxed for a moment. Kellen wiped sweat from her brow with shaking fingers. “Catherine, you must be well.” His voice broke. “Perchance the babe comes early?”

  “The drink was meant for you.” She breathed heavily, drawing breath an effort.

  “What are you saying?”

  “My daughter is not of your seed.” Again, she convulsed violently, foam gathering at the corners of her mouth, then relaxed once more, placing a hand to her belly. “Nor is the one in my womb.”

  Kellen studied her face, the swelling of her body. He swallowed and gripped her hand. “You are out of your head.” His voice roughened, low, deep, and pleading. “A devil has overtaken your mind.”

  “I despise you.”

  He tried to convince himself she was not herself, yet saw in her clear eyes she spoke true. And he was well aware the poisoned drink had been meant for him as he’d switched them himself. Why would she dishonor herself this way? It was senseless. “Why?”

  “You sicken me.” Her face twisted. “I hate your disgusting, overlarge body. Your vile face. My lover is wonderful, slim and beautiful as a knight should be. Handsome and without scars.” She smiled, her face relaxing. She laughed once, then stopped breathing.

  His wife, eyes open and staring, lay dead in his arms. He shook her, rage and despair welling within him. “No!” He clutched her to him. “No!” She’d swallowed poison meant for him? She’d meant to kill him? Surely he’d misunderstood. She was no poisoner. She could not be.

  Kellen’s eyes filled with hot tears and he gently shook his wife once more. “Live. Live, curse you. Live!”

  She didn’t move.

  His wife was dead. His son, as well. His son.

  Kellen’s head pounded. He laid his wife gently on the bed, stood, and backed away. His head, suddenly heavy, bobbed up and down as dizziness overtook him.

  Air finally filled his lungs and he threw his head back, and howled like a madman. He clenched his hands in his hair and, heart pounding, every muscle constricting to the point of pain, Kellen turned and grabbed the long bench from against the wall.

  With a yell, he heaved it into the fireplace and watched as pieces of heavy wood, ashes, and smoke burst into the air.

  Next, he gripped a chair and dashed it against the stone wall, once, twice, until the heavy wood shattered. He ripped a tapestry Catherine had fashioned from the wall. He smashed her writing table with his fists. Threw a basket of knitted baby clothes into the fire. Tore and pulled the linen hangings from the great bed and cast them to the floor.

  Breathing hard, searching for something else to destroy, Kellen stood still in the middle of the chamber. He looked to the doorway, where only a few of his knights remained, and a few more beyond, out in the hall. The servants had run off.

  On
ly the midwife, Catherine’s old nurse, the one come from Corbett Castle, had dared enter the bedchamber. She covered Catherine’s body with a fur coverlet, knelt on the stairs beside the bed, crossed herself, and wailed.

  Kellen watched her wipe foam from Catherine’s mouth, and turned away.

  His dream had died with Catherine. With the babe. His marriage, the chance to continue his line, to build a family, was the one thing that had kept him alive through all the petty wars, the politics, the tournaments, and his dangerous allegiance to King Henry.

  Who provided her the poison? Who turned her against him? He knew she could not have done this on her own.

  Her lover, no doubt.

  Kellen’s teeth ground together, and a guttural sound escaped his mouth. The babe was not his? The girl child not of his seed? There lived a man who did not have long for this world.

  “Mamma?”

  Kellen turned to see his three-year-old daughter lingering in the passageway with her nurse, and pain twisted his guts. She should not be there, and he did not want to look on her. He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Take the girl away from here.”

  He would not be cheated this way. His eyes narrowed. He would marry again. He would petition the king and remind him of his loyalty and—

  No. That could take years and numerous favors. At a score and ten, Kellen could not wait. Would not. He sucked air into his lungs. Corbett owed him an honorable daughter. He had seven. Six, now. He would demand another, the youngest, and most trainable, or Corbett would pay the price for his daughter’s treachery with a war. Any betrothment on the girl’s part would needs be broken. He would show no mercy. He’d have his heir within the year, or else.

  He grabbed the nurse still kneeling beside Catherine, startling her, and hauled her to her feet. “Give me the name of her lover.”

  Rigid with terror, the woman gaped. “My lord?”