Night Storm (Bones & Gemstones Book 1)
Page 30
Felix. When she had opened her eyes to find Peter standing over her, she had felt such a sense of betrayal and disbelief—and unadulterated fear. Not for herself, but for Felix. She had failed him, and from the sound of it, Cam would, too.
Then Peter had dropped the pipe and motioned toward Felix chained to a metal pipe. With no way to free his friend, Peter had stood guard until help came.
Piper had been so surprised to see Peter, recalling he had gone home to care for a sick family member. Shyly, Peter had explained how he had forgotten his gloves. When he had returned to fetch them, he’d decided to search the theater one more time for Felix. He had found his friend hidden behind an oilskin tarp, gagged and chained.
Thanks to Cam, they were all able to get out of the theater alive. Setting aside the memory of the awful confrontation with Vivian, Charlotte kissed Cam’s limp hand, wishing he would wake up and tell her everything would be all right. She needed his strength, his love, and his arms around her.
A large hand rested on the back of her neck, startling her upright.
“Sorry, lass.” Lachlan stepped back, holding out his hands. “I knocked several times, even called your name. Thought I’d better make sure you were still breathing.”
She pressed her palm to her chest. “It’s all right. I suspect I’ll be seeing threats where none exist for a long while.”
“How’s he doing?”
Lachlan had accompanied his uncle that first night, helping Jules and Vaughn with the aftermath of Vivian’s failed murder attempt. Not once had he or his uncle broached the subject of their Bond Street apothecary shop proposal. She appreciated their consideration, even though she suspected they were both champing at the bit to get started.
“Better than yesterday,” she said. “He’s not as restless, and his color is back to normal. I’ll feel much better once he opens his eyes.”
As she had so many times since they had placed his limp body on her bed two nights ago, she brushed the backs of her fingers over his jaw, careful not to brush against the white bandage covering the deep laceration made by Vivian’s blade.
He had lost so much blood. She’d had to stop the bleeding and stitch him up right there on the theater floor, using needle and thread from the wardrobe. That was about the time Mr. Riordan and Marian came storming onto the scene, far too late to be of any real use. However, Riordan was the one who had called the authorities and helped lift Cam into a cart for transport to her shop. She wondered how long it had taken the manager to realize the two additional deaths had damaged his precious theater’s reputation beyond repair, or memorialized it forever.
“The two of you have reconciled, then?” Lachlan asked.
She glanced up at her friend. “Yes. I never stopped loving him, though for a time I hated him, too.”
Lachlan nodded. “The heart knows what the heart knows. We can’t force it to love elsewhere—no matter how hard we try.”
Charlotte’s heart clenched at the painful longing in his voice. She rose and wrapped her arms around his waist, her hands barely touched at his back. “Thank you for taking care of me in Scotland. I value your friendship more than you’ll ever know.”
He hesitated a moment before returning her hug. She heard his hard swallow before he said, “I’m glad you’re happy again.”
“Not without your help.”
“For the Englishman,” he whispered.
Charlotte couldn’t think what to say, so she squeezed him tighter. Silence stretched.
“I did enjoy our chess games, lass.”
She closed her eyes at the teasing note in his voice. “You enjoyed trouncing me. Admit it.”
He chuckled. “That, too. Nothing better for a gentleman’s pride—except a woman’s well-satisfied cry.”
She drew back. “Lachlan!”
He laughed.
“Scot, you have exactly two seconds to release her, or you’ll be the one doing the crying.”
Charlotte stiffened, and Lachlan, the rogue, winked at her. Had he known Cam was rousing from sleep? Pulling away, she turned to see Cam sitting on the edge of her bed, his head hanging low, and his eyes squinting up at Lachlan.
“Cam,” she whispered, tears clogging her throat. “What are you doing up? Back down with you.”
“I’ll leave you to your work, lass.” Lachlan kissed her temple. “Just remember, if you get tired of this mulish Englishman, I’ll not be far away.”
“Lachlan,” Charlotte called.
Standing in the open doorway, he glanced back.
“When you see your uncle, please tell him I said yes.”
Lachlan’s smile lit the room. “With pleasure, lass.”
Once the door shut behind Lachlan, Cam eased back down on the bed. “What was that about?”
“Mr. Buchanan wants me to help him with a small business venture. I’ll explain when you’re feeling better.” Charlotte smiled. “It’s good to see your eyes open again.”
“I can see how much you’ve missed me,” he groused.
She tensed. “It’s not like that. I was merely thanking him—”
Bringing her hand up to his lips, he kissed her palm. “You have dark patches under your eyes. How long have I been out?”
The tension eased from her shoulders. She sat down on the side of the bed. “A few days. You took quite a tumble.”
He fell quiet. “I don’t recall what happened after I killed Gordon. The rest is—gone.”
“It’s not unusual to lose snatches of memory with a brain contusion, especially the time right before the injury.”
“What happened? You obviously survived. How is Piper? Did you find Felix?”
Careful not to do him more injury, Charlotte smoothed her hand over his hair. “The fall killed Vivian. We found Felix alive, chained to a post upstairs, but unharmed. Piper is fine.”
“Everyone is uninjured, then?”
“Yes, thanks to you.”
“I remember the fear.” His tortured, bloodshot eyes caught hers. “The fear that I had failed you.”
“You didn’t, my love. You saved us all.”
“Never again will I allow you to come so close to danger.”
She bent forward and kissed him, something she had done a dozen times in the last two days, only this time his lips were warm and welcoming. Easing away, she said, “Danger is with us and all around us. You can’t protect me from it all. It’s part of life.”
“I can damn sure try.”
Laughing, she said, “I love you, Cameron Adair. Ruthless bits and all.”
He snaked his good arm around her, pulling her down next to him. “And I you, Charley Fielding, Mrs. Charlotte Fielding, apothecary-surgeon, midwife, mentor—whoever you are, I love each and every one of you.”
“I’m so glad, Cam.” She kissed the tip of his nose. “Because I find myself anticipating our next harrowing adventure. Together.”
The End
Thank You!
Thanks so much for selecting Night Storm. I really appreciate the support and hope you enjoyed the first installment of Cam and Charley’s crime-solving adventures. Keep an eye out for Night Rain in 2015!
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Links to My Other Books:
Bones and Gemstones Series
Night Storm
Nexus Series
A Lady’s Revenge
Checkmate, My Lord
A Lady’s Secret Weapon
Latymer (e-novella)
Tea Time Novellas and Short Stories
His Secret Desire (e-novella)
Coming Soon
Night Rain
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Acknowledgments
As always, I have many special and talented people to thank for helping me bring my latest book to life.
Much love and appreciation goes to my husband, Tim, for his endless support, enduring love, and ginormous patience. HILWY, always.
Without the gentle guidance of my editor Valerie Gray, the keen eye of my copyeditor Martha Trachtenberg, and the sage advice of my proofreader Jeannie Ng, NIGHT STORM wouldn’t be the exciting, rich story it is today. Thank you, ladies!
Enormous thanks to Amy Atwell for making NIGHT STORM look amazing on the inside and to Jeannie Ruesch for designing such a perfect, beautiful cover.
Warm hugs and sparkling confetti to my readers, especially the Dangerous Darlings, for loving the many layers of historical romantic suspense. Thank you for your enthusiasm in spreading the word about my books!
About the Author
Photo by: Lisa Kaman Kenning, Mezzaluna Photography
Tracey Devlyn is an award-winning author of historical romantic thrillers (translation: a slightly more grievous journey toward the heroine’s happy ending). She’s cofounder of Romance University, a group blog dedicated to readers and writers of romance, and Lady Jane’s Salon-Naperville, Chicagoland’s exciting new reading salon devoted to romantic fiction.
An Illinois native, Tracey spends her evenings harassing her once-in-a-lifetime husband and her weekends torturing her characters. For more information on Tracey, including her Internet haunts, contest updates, and details on her upcoming novels, please visit her website at TraceyDevlyn.com.
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Author’s Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Thank You!
Links to My Other Books
Acknowledgments
About the Author