The old man sat on the edge of the bed and placed his wrinkled hand against her cheek. “Scheherezade, wake up.” She didn’t stir. Uncharacteristic anger lit his eyes. “That man did this to her, didn’t he?”
“No.” Garret couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice. “I did.”
“I see.” The vicar rose and removed her shoes. “I think you’d better wait downstairs. Someone will have to show the doctor in when he arrives.”
“I’m not leaving her.”
The vicar straightened. Their gazes locked. “So that’s the way it is.”
“Yes.”
Cara’s father unfolded the quilt at the end of the bed and spread it over her. “I’ll be downstairs.” He stopped at the door. “When the doctor arrives, I think perhaps we should have a talk.” The vicar slipped from the room.
Garret sat next to Cara and held her hand to his cheek. A reassuring pulse beat at her wrist. She would recover. His fingers encircled hers until her fingernails bit into his skin. She had to.
But what should he tell her father? What could he tell him? He closed his eyes, inhaling the subtle sweetness of Cara’s skin. More lies. Weariness settled over him. When was the last time he’d been free to tell the truth?
Garret brushed the caramel-colored strands of hair from Cara’s face. Two days, and she still matched the pale sheets that encased her bed, causing the purplish bruise on her forehead to stand out like an ink stain on parchment.
Doctor Field was the best in London. If he said she’d come around, then she would. Dammit. He rubbed a hand over his jaw, noting the slightly raised scar above the stubble of his beard.
A soft sigh escaped Cara’s lips. He reached down and smoothed the blankets up around her shoulders, then traced the curve of her cheek with his fingertip. He’d never thought to love her.
How had she managed to be so innocent with the life she’d led? He doubted Regina would have fared half as well when faced with the horrors of the world.
Cara never seemed to lose hope. Unlike him. But without hope, there could be no joy. She’d taught him that.
He’d been a self-centered fool, arrogantly believing he desired to marry Cara because she’d passed all his tests. But in truth, he was the one being tested.
Perhaps he’d succumbed to her charms when he’d first seen her on the stairs. Or that day in Rachel’s bedroom when she’d taken him to task for ignoring his niece.
How he’d come to love her was of no consequence. All he knew was that with her he could aspire to being more than a nobleman who had no thought but the pursuit of society’s approval. For the first time in fourteen years, he looked forward to the future.
Cara struggled to remain in the grayness that enveloped her, attempting to avoid the pain that centered on her forehead. She raised her hand to discover the problem, but strong fingers clasped hers.
“You’re awake.” Garret’s joyful voice set her head to pounding even more.
“Not so loud.” What had happened to her? She’d gone to the stable to find Michael. Farley had been there. Oh, no. She opened her eyes, squinting a bit even though weak daylight peeked through the curtains. “Michael. Is he—?”
“He’s fine. Just worried about you.”
Focusing took a monumental effort, but she peered up at Garret’s face. A golden shadow marred his jaw and his thick, tawny hair looked like he’d combed it with his fingers. Even disheveled, he exuded a raw masculinity. The possessiveness in his eyes made her realize he still held her hand. She tugged her fingers from his grasp and tucked both hands under the covers.
He gave her a wry smile. “I’m afraid I’ve done more than hold your hand. All agreements are off when you have to carry the other party to their bed.”
Warmth crept over her skin that had nothing to do with her injury. “Well, I’m awake now.” She glanced down. The top ribbons of her ‘Grecian’ nightgown peeked above the covers. Surely he hadn’t dressed her? The smirk on his face didn’t put her mind to rest, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d unsettled her. “What about Farley?”
“Dead.”
She attempted to sit up, but even that mere effort made her head swim, so she lay back down. “Garret, you shouldn’t have killed him.” She worried at her lip, tears standing in her eyes. “Now we’ll never be able to find the children.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Thank you for your confidence in me, but the blackguard didn’t meet his demise at my hand.”
“Then whose?”
Garret paced the room with a fluid grace in spite of the cramped quarters. “I wish to God I knew.” He raked his hand through his hair and her fingers curled with the desire to do the same. She swallowed. Dressed in a loose white shirt and black breeches, he seemed capable, approachable, and much too male.
He was a duke. That’s why he fascinated her. Her preoccupation with a nobleman was to be expected. But if that were truly the case, then why was he even more appealing as an ordinary man?
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them again. He didn’t seem at home here in her tiny bedroom. He belonged to the grand rooms at Belcraven. She had to remember that.
He turned toward her. “Perhaps I shouldn’t say anything”—he graced her with one of his rare, devastating smiles—“but Farley did give us a lead as to the children’s whereabouts before he died. I’m having the information verified.”
It took a moment before what he said registered. Relief vied with the sensible voice that warned her not to get her hopes up. Still, somehow, everything would be all right. “If you find them, the council will keep the school open. And Papa will . . . Where is Papa?” Panic tugged at her insides. “He’s not ill?”
“No.”
“Then why are you here?” She hadn’t meant to be so rude, but the man did strange things to her peace of mind.
“I consider it a good practice to keep an eye on the women I rescue.”
She hadn’t even thanked him. “Oh Garret, I’m so sorry. You saved my life and all I can talk about is the children.”
“I have to admit, I thought the princess was supposed to fall into the prince’s arms after he rescues her.” He sat on the edge of her bed, one eyebrow raised. “Perhaps I’ve been misinformed?”
He leaned forward until she could see the laughter in his eyes and the cut on his lower lip. She lifted her hand to run her finger near the injury. Only slight swelling marred the area, but it still must hurt. “How can a princess properly kiss a prince when his mouth looks like this?”
“I think I’d manage.” He attempted to move closer, but she placed a hand on his chest.
“I did this to you by getting you involved.”
“No. I involved myself.” Vulnerability touched his gaze, replaced almost immediately by the practiced indifference she’d come to associate with him. “Whatever did you hope to accomplish by putting yourself in danger?”
“I’m not sure. But I couldn’t stand by and watch that beast take Michael.”
“Perhaps. But you’re not to do anything like that again.” He said it as though he were reprimanding a small child.
She removed her hand from his chest. “Is that a command?”
“If you wish to take it that way. I won’t have you in harm’s way.”
“I appreciate the concern, but Papa and I can take care of ourselves.”
Instead of being insulted, he had the audacity to grin, revealing those vertical lines in his cheeks that made her blink. “Your father is intelligent enough to know how things stand.”
“Excuse me?” His earnest gaze set her heart to racing. “Never mind.” She brought the covers all the way to her neck. “I’d like to speak with Papa now. I’m sure he must be worried.”
Garret stood, the warmth in his gaze terrifying. “Cara, you must hear me out.”
“I’m ill and Papa’s probably beside himself. I have responsibilities here.” She lowered her head, plucking at the ribbons on her nightgown. “And
I want to see Michael. Children often don’t believe an adult is well until they see it for themselves.”
“Cara.” Garret placed his fingertips under her chin without touching her. Even though he didn’t physically force her to do his bidding, something in his voice compelled her to raise her head.
Her breathing increased. She wanted him to touch her, to cradle her face so she could turn her cheek until it rested against his palm, as she’d done once, long ago. She could see his resolve, but his brows drew together at something he saw in her face.
“Fine. I’ll get them.” He gazed at her for a long moment, then dropped his hand. “But we aren’t finished.”
He exited, and the room seemed to grow smaller. What was she going to do? Somehow, he’d forgotten that she wasn’t of his world.
And never could be.
And Snow awoke to life at the touch of his lips. She knew she had been changed for all time.
Snow White
Chapter 13
“The Duke of Kendal requires your assistance.” Garret settled into the high-backed leather chair opposite Mr. Russell’s impeccably neat desk and waited until the man took his seat. “His Grace would like to bestow an ongoing donation to Miss McClure’s school. As you are the church’s solicitor, I thought it best to enlist your aid.”
“Quite right.” A puzzled expression crossed Russell’s features. “Have you informed Miss McClure and her father? I seem to recall she had some reservations about accepting charity from the duke.”
Garret ran his thumb over the rounded decorative nails used to tack down the leather on the arm of his chair. “I think perhaps you misunderstood. After all, the school is amply supported by noblemen such as His Grace. Any qualms she might have will be far out-shadowed by her concern for the children’s welfare. Don’t you agree?”
“Of course.” Mr. Russell rose, crossed to an inlaid wooden cabinet emblazoned with fleur de leis and removed a cut-glass decanter. “I just hadn’t wanted to do anything to upset Miss McClure. She’s so fragile right now.” He glanced at Garret. “Brandy?”
“No, thank you.” He didn’t want to drink with the man. It was foolish to let Russell’s interest in Cara affect him this way. Still, he couldn’t seem to help himself. “I’ve been instructed to give an advance.” Garret withdrew a bag of coin from his inner pocket and set it on the desk.
Russell hesitated, then continued to pour his drink. He returned, glass in hand, to the desk and hefted the coins as if weighing their worth. “His Grace is generous.” A gleam brightened his hooded gaze.
Garret smiled. “It’s a noble cause.” So, the man had a weakness—avarice, one of the seven deadly sins. Did Cara know? Probably not. She wanted to see the best in everyone. “The duke would like to be informed as to the school’s financial concerns. There is to be no more discussion about closing the doors.”
“I’m sure I can get the church council to agree. The duke has taken a great burden off their shoulders.” He smiled. “Off all of our shoulders.”
“I’ll convey your thanks.” Garret stood. “One more thing. The duke would like you to hire a housekeeper for the vicar.”
“I doubt Miss McClure would approve.”
“I think she will. She’ll want her father properly attended to when she returns to Belcraven.”
Russell took a sip of his drink, then set it back on the desk. “She’s leaving?”
“With me, three days hence.”
“I see.” Russell placed the coins in his top drawer. “I’ll make the arrangements.” He stood and circled the desk. “I’m curious. I’ve never heard of the Duke of Kendal concerning himself with someone in his employ. Yet he seems to be taking a great deal of interest in Miss McClure.”
“A duke’s affairs are none of our concern.”
Russell shrugged. “I meant no offense.”
“None taken. I’ll wait to hear from you.” Garret strode out of the stuffy apartment and into the crisp evening air. The stars rode low on the horizon, awaiting their journey across the heavens.
At last, his world seemed to be righting itself. He felt confident Morgan would locate the children. And in a day or two, Russell’s arrangements should be made, then Cara’s “responsibilities” would no longer exist.
Anticipation vied with satisfaction. He patted the pocket containing the ribbon Cara had given him all those years ago. She would become his wife. Nothing could prevent it.
“I’m returning to Belcraven in a few days.”
Cara looked up at Garret’s proclamation and jabbed her finger with the needle. “Ow.” He’d directed the comment to Papa, but turned at her exclamation.
Her injured digit stung, but the physical pain seemed minor compared with the emotional upheaval she felt. She tried to appear nonchalant. “Must you return so soon?”
Garret’s steady gaze made her shift in her seat. Surrounded by the glow of the oil lamp, with his hair unbound, he was a twin to the man in her dream. “I’ve accomplished what the duke asked.” He smiled and she had the silliest urge to throw her arms around him and beg him to stay. “Besides, you won’t miss me. You’re returning to Belcraven as well. Or don’t you remember?”
The night she’d agreed to return with him came back in sudden clarity. The heat of the fire grew warmer, heating her face. “I can’t go now. The children—”
“Have been found.” Garret actually grinned. “I heard from Morgan earlier today. Farley told the truth. My, the duke’s friend, Lord Bradford, is seeing to their welfare.” He leaned forward in his chair, his gaze tender. “They should return before we leave so you can see for yourself.”
“They’re alive?” She pressed her lips together to keep from crying. “All of them?”
Garret nodded.
“Thank you.” She dropped her gaze, staring blindly at the rampant-lion bookmark she’d been embroidering for her father.
“Yes, thank you, my boy. You have no idea how much your help has meant.”
“So you’ll return with me to Belcraven?” Garret was truly asking. Not even the slightest command edged his voice.
Cara looked up. “I . . . What about the school and Papa?”
“Don’t you go worrying about me.” Her father stood and smoothed his rumpled waistcoat. “I’ll be fine.” He crossed to her and laid his hand on her cheek. His face appeared gray in the rosy light. “Scheherezade, I won’t always be here.”
“No.” Fear clawed its way into her heart. She wouldn’t let him talk like this. “You’re just tired. Perhaps you shouldn’t spend so much time at the school?”
Her father and Garret exchanged a determined look and Garret gave a slight nod. They’d discussed this before. She couldn’t help feeling betrayed. Papa gazed down at her and brushed a loose strand of hair from her forehead. “Go with him. You need to make your own life.”
Her voice trembled, taking on a pleading note. “I have a life. Here. With you.”
“Cara.” The way Garret said her name sent shivers up her spine. He stood and moved next to Papa. “Come with me.”
She tried to mask the terror she felt at losing the last family she had left. In spite of her feelings for Garret, she could never be a part of his world. All she’d ever wanted was a place to belong and people to love. Was that so much to ask?
With deliberate movements, she laid aside her sewing, stood, then crossed to the window. She welcomed the shadows that closed around her. Why couldn’t things stay the way they were?
“You needn’t remain at Belcraven.” Garret’s voice held a hint of impatience. “Rachel only requires a governess until the end of summer.”
His grudging offer almost made her smile. She turned. It was a concession. Somehow, she had the feeling he’d had no intention of letting her return.
“I’ve made arrangements at the duke’s request.” Garret glanced at Papa. “Your father is to have a housekeeper and funds are being provided for the school.” He joined her at the window, his nearness reminding her again what
a danger he could be to her senses.
His breath touched her face as he whispered into her ear. “No matter what happens between us, I’ll always care for those you love.”
She closed her eyes. He gave her no choice but to honor her promise. “I’ll come.” Her gaze locked with his. “But I think it’s a mistake.”
“You’ll have no regrets.”
How could she not? Her only hope lay in his becoming the cold, arrogant man she’d first met once he returned to Belcraven. If he didn’t, she may never want to leave.
He had a surprise for Cara, and Emily. Garret hurried toward the schoolroom, feeling like a little boy who’d received his first pony. When he burst into the room, everyone turned to stare at him. “I thought we might end your instruction early today.”
Cara gave him her proper governess expression. “Mr. Stone, I hardly think it’s approp—”
“I’m taking you to the Tower. We’re going to see King George’s menagerie.”
Michael’s awestruck voice replaced the silence. “Blimey, ye ‘ave to know someone important to get in there.”
“Or do somethin’ wrong.” One of the older boys smirked.
“I don’t wanna go. Me da’s friend died there.” The young redheaded boy, no more than ten, put on a very melodramatic expression. “They won’ never let us leave.”
Garret shook his head. “You’ll be with me. No one will keep you there against your will. I promise.”
Emily ran up to him. “Can we see elfants?” She jumped up and down, tugging at his coat. “Me mum told me stories about ‘em.”
He squatted down until they were at eye level. “Yes, we’ll see elephants, and tigers, and exotic birds.”
“Ohooooo.” Her eyes became wide blue saucers. “Can we go, Miss McClure? Can we? Please.”
Garret waited while Cara appeared to struggle with what she should do, then she smiled. “Fine, those of you who wish to accompany us to the tower, may do so. Otherwise, class is finished for today."
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