The Lady in the Tower (11 page)

“Already?”
Catherine said, looking put out.

“I have a
patient that I must see first thing in the morning,” Richard lied, his hand
warm where it rested at the small of Jane’s back. “I need to return Jane home,
as well.”

Catherine
pouted, but then cast a measuring look at Jane’s coiffure. “Ah! But of course
you must go,
milachka
.
”  She
linked arms with Jane and escorted her to the foyer. “I’d have it no other way.
Thornton, do take care of our Jane, yes?”

Richard bowed.
“That’s my plan, Your Grace.”

Catherine
beamed and bid them good night.

The journey
home continued their silence, though Richard sat right beside her, his arm
about her. She took strength and comfort in his touch, and snuggled up against
him, her head on his shoulder.

When they
arrived at her townhouse, he handed her down and saw her to her door. Nerves
tightened her stomach, and despite everything they’d just shared, shyness
threatened.

He lifted her
hand to his lips to press a kiss to her palm. “Good night, Jane.”

“You’re
leaving?” she blurted. Of all the things she’d expected him to say, that wasn’t
it.

The smile he
gave her sent her pulse soaring once more, yet he deliberately set her inside
her doorway. “For now,” he said, and kissed her so gently she’d barely had a
chance to react before he pulled away.

“But . . . ”
Words left her, not that he noticed for he’d already turned back down the path
to his carriage.  

“Tomorrow,” he
called over his shoulder.

Left with no
other choice, she entered the house and closed the door behind her. Jennings
had left a night candle burning. She took it in a shaky hand and made her way
upstairs to her chamber.

Her body still
thrummed from their lovemaking, but her head swam from the recognition of her
love for him. What eclipsed both of those earth-shattering developments was her
confusion over his behavior. He was such an irascible, perplexing male!
Unfortunately that was also part of his charm.

After dressing
for bed, she dismissed her maid. Jane resolved to stop trying to figure Richard
out. It didn’t matter anyway. She’d confront him about it tomorrow.

The memory of
her discussion with the duchess returned.
What do you want, Jane?
Catherine had asked. It had taken her some time to figure it out, but after
tonight her answer was clear as crystal.

She
wanted—no, she
loved
Richard Thornton.

Stretching
luxuriously, Jane slipped between the cool sheets of her bed. It was only a
matter of time before he’d be sharing the space with her. For no matter what he
said on the morrow, the good doctor would
not
get away.

* * * * *

Richard
arrived at Jane’s townhouse with the ring he’d purchased that morning heavy in
his pocket. He couldn’t deny he’d wanted to make love to her since he’d first
met her, but the reality of her had been far more sublime than all his
fantasies combined. It had taken every ounce of will he possessed not to spend
the night with her after her clumsily adorable invitation. But this time, he
wanted everything to be perfect. She deserved that much and more.

Looking back,
he could see that he’d been doomed from the start. She’d always been lovely,
but her sharp mind had engaged him in deeper ways.

At his knock,
Jennings opened the door, only to inform him Jane was working in the garden. At
this, Richard frowned. The mild morning had sharpened with an afternoon chill.
Knowing Jane, she’d gone outside without coat or gloves.

The garden
wasn’t large, but was terraced in the Italian style, with rows of greenery
mixed with winter roses. He looked around, frowning. “Jane?”

A chuckle met
his question. Looking up, he caught sight of a blur of blue up in the branches
of a copper beech tree. “Bloody hell, what are you doing?”

“Getting some
bark from a dead branch. Stay right there and I’ll—” Her foot caught in her
skirt and with a shriek, she slipped, grabbing a limb in desperation.

“Stay still!”
he commanded, moving under the tree. He propped his cane against the trunk and
then planted his feet. “Let go.”

“Richard, I
can’t—”

“I’m right
here.”

“But your
leg—”

“Will be fine.
I’m not bending it, which is the only time it hurts. Let go, Jane. Trust me.”

She closed her
eyes, counted to three, and let go. For a wild, uncertain moment, she was
tumbling through leaves and air. But just as quickly, a pair of strong arms snatched
her from the uncertainty and she was suddenly held against a broad chest, her
feet dangling just inches from the ground

He held her
close, his face buried in her hair, relief making him grin. “You are a menace.
You need a damn keeper to stop you from getting into trouble.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.” He
allowed her to stand, though he kept a tight hold. “You need someone who’ll
tell you no when you need to hear it, someone who will understand when you
start talking about essential oils and such, someone who can’t live without
you, someone . . .” He turned her face to his.
“.
. .
like me.”

She smiled up
at him, her happiness telling him all he needed to know.

God, but he
loved her so much he couldn’t imagine being without her. Not now. Not ever. She
was his. “We will marry. I bought a ring and—”

“Hold right
there. We
might
marry.” A challenging light entered her eye, and she
leaned against him. “Do you think you’re up to the task? At times, it’s bound
to be very, very complicated.”

“I love you
and
your complications.” He bent to kiss her, but she placed a hand on his chest.

“I also have a
few provisions.”

“Oh?”

She ticked
them off on her fingers. “I still will see my patients—”

“Of course.
I’m sure we can—”

“—
and
you’ll agree to co-author an article with me.”

He stopped.
She looked shy, hesitant and hopeful all at once. Love filled his heart near to
bursting. In way of reply, he smiled, took her hand and began leading her back
to the house.

“Where are we
going?”
           
“Inside.”

“But why?”

He paused,
yanked her to him and kissed her. When he lifted his head, he was gratified to
see a dazed sheen in her eyes. “This time, I want a bed, damn it!”

She laughed,
and led the way.

It had been a
quiet wedding, beautiful yet simple. Thornton could not stop smiling and Jane
glowed as the epitome of the blushing bride. The small group of guests had
joined the couple at the wedding breakfast. Afterwards, as guests made their
farewells, Kat and Josephine cornered the duchess in the drawing room.

“You’ve kept
us waiting long enough, Catherine,” Katelyn accused.

The
duchess’s eyes widened.
“What do you mean?”

“The tarot
cards. What’s their meaning?”

The duchess
smiled, and turned them toward the happy couple. “Who needs the tarot cards?
Just look at them!”

Kat and
Josephine shared a look. “I suppose so,” Jo said grudgingly. “But Jane said her
card was of a tower.”

“
Da
, she’d walled herself in a sort of
tower, that she could not see had become too small for her. And Thornton was
the clever magician, was he not? He brought challenge and knowledge, so—”
Catherine waved a hand “—she is freed.”

Jo grimaced.
“That’s stretching things.”

“Yes.” Kat
looked wistful. “It would be nice if the cards could
truly
tell the
future.” She turned her gaze on Catherine. “What does a wheel represent?”

“Problems,
solutions, luck, or love? Up, or down, now that is the question.”

“Now I’m more
confused than ever,” Kat muttered.

“Ah, just so,
nyet
?” Catherine cast a speculative glance at her
friend, and then slipped an arm about Kat’s shoulders. The cards predicted
quite an interesting few months ahead.

Fortunately,
she had no doubt Kat would be up for the challenge.

 This
story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are
products of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance
to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.

Copyright
© 2012 Karen Hawkins and Holly Crawford

All rights reserved under International and
Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have
been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the
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without the express written permission of Karen Hawkins and Holly Crawford.

ISBN
978-0-9885984-0-9

Karen
Hawkins

A
New York Times
and
USA Today
best-selling author of over 20 humorous
historical and contemporary romance novels, Karen doesn’t have time for
‘friends’, although she’s been known to haunt the yards of a few, select well
known actors, particularly a sexy Australian with the initials H.J.
Fortunately, the two actors who filed injunctions against Karen don’t live in
her home state so she’s free to travel within the borders of Florida and can,
with permission of the court, even visit Southern Georgia and 3/4ths of the
state of Tennessee.

For now.

Several
years ago, Karen married a handsome cop she met while researching her first
contemporary romance novel,
Talk of the
Town
. Her husband, aka Hot Cop, has turned into an exemplary
Writer’s Husband. He has learned to ‘talk writing,’ knows the fastest routes to
all of the major mail carriers, and can tell the difference between an erasable
colored pencil and a regular one. He also knows not to ask for meals during
Deadline Dementia Week.

You
can visit her on the web at
http://www.karenhawkins.com

Holly
Crawford

When
Holly Crawford isn't writing Regency Romps, dark
historicals
or fantasy worlds, she teaches history and Asian philosophy at a local
college.  She lives in Florida with her family and rescued Golden
Retriever who runs everything. 

When an
innocent kiss stirs awake a very determined-to-wed woman, the dashing,
dissolute Earl of
Kintore
finds himself with his hands
– and arms – full … But will his reluctant heart follow?

James Keith,
the fifth Earl of
Kintore
, Viscount
Stonehaven
, and Baron
Urie
, was
chilled, but also deliciously pleased. He hadn’t fallen off his horse yet . . .
not today, anyway.

Of course it
was still early, but he rather thought things were going his way for once.

“It’s about
bloody time,” he told the falling snow in a defiant tone, tugging at his collar
as an icy wind lifted as if in answer. It was a good thing he didn’t believe in
omens, for the suddenness of the snowy clouds that had engulfed him over the
last half hour didn’t portend well. Fortunately, through the snow, he could
just make out the outline of the inn he wished to reach, the Cask and Larder.

Soon, he was
in the courtyard of the large, rambling inn, climbing unsteadily off of his
horse as a stable body hurried to meet him. Bundled in several coats and
wearing admirably thick mittens, the boy mumbled something about ‘Cossacks’
that
Kintore
didn’t quite catch, but it was too cold
to banter for his teeth were beginning to chatter. Instead, he gave the gelding
a final pat, and left it in the capable hands of the stable boy before hurrying
indoors.

Once inside,
he peeled off his useless gloves and tucked them in his pocket. Seeing no sign
of the innkeeper or his wife, the earl made his way to the private parlor off
the taproom. There didn’t seem to be anyone in either room, but the fire in the
parlor was already sputtering along in a cheerful manner and instantly drew him
to it.