The Thorn Keeper

by Pepper D. Basham

  “As good as kitchen maids go, I wager.”

  Catherine stifled her grin at Mrs. Brock’s typical melancholy view. “I’ve no doubt, under your tutelage, she’s bound to improve.”

  “And that’s the truth. If she’s fit for learning is another story.”

  “Catherine?” Jessica stood in the doorway, her gaze alternating between Mrs. Brock, the chicken, and Catherine. “What are you doing?”

  Catherine gestured to the chicken with her knife. “Research.”

  “Research?” Jessica drew closer, nodding to Mrs. Brock. “Would you happen to have some fresh thyme, Mrs. Brock? The tea may provide some breathing relief for the patients.”

  Mrs. Brock untied her apron. “Will fetch some from the herb garden straight away.”

  Jessica moved closer, staring at Catherine’s left hand with the third and fourth fingers taped down. “What are you doing?”

  “I told you. Research.” She nodded toward her work. “What limitations arise from weak or missing fingers. What skills to relearn and modifications—”

  “You!” Jessica stared at her, eyes wide and wondering. “You are the most unrelenting person I have ever met.”

  “David has a gift.” Catherine bent closer to the chicken breast, examining her work with a bit of pride. “We can’t let him forget that too. Someday, when he tries to use his hand again, I want him to know he can still do what he loves.”

  “Of course.” Her voice sounded far way, small.

  “And I’ve been reading as much as I can on head injury. One of the most important things I’ve noticed is that the person has a supportive environment for healing.”

  Catherine looked up from her work and froze.

  Uncustomary tears trickled down Jessica’s face. “I’m sorry, Catherine. I’m sorry for trying to shove you out of the way because I was scared for my brother’s reputation…for his heart. If there’s any other woman who could love him more than me, it’s you.”

  David joined the staff for dinner for the first time since his return, and despite some anxiety keeping him on edge, he managed it well. The multiple conversations took less concentration than he’d expected and, when an agitation arose and his knee would tremor, Catherine somehow knew. She’d place her hand on his, drawing his attention to her, and follow with a question. After three instances, he realized what she was doing. She was distracting him, helping him make it through dinner.

  As the footman served dessert, David took her hand. “Thank you.”

  “I didn’t serve the dessert, Dr. Ross.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “You did much more than that.”

  “You’re right.” She tossed a grin over her shoulder, putting the dessert to her lips. “I ordered cook to make the bread and butter pudding.”

  And their teasing continued to the end of dinner when she retired for the night and left him staring out his bedroom window at her ‘haven’ until all the lights faded. He liked her. Her wit, her passion, her care.

  He spent the next day, with Jessica’s help, visiting places he’d known, finding memories emerging in slow, disjointed ways.

  When Catherine walked through the garden the next morning, he was ready.

  “I understand you’ve been doing research.”

  She looked to the gazebo where he sat on the railing, her palm slamming the front of her green walking suit. “Good heavens, it’s freezing out? How long have you been there?”

  He slid from the railing and walked toward her. “Not long.”

  “Were you waiting for me?” Her grin slanted crooked as if she wasn’t quite sure what to make of his behavior.

  “Indeed, I was.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “But you didn’t respond to my statement.”

  She gestured toward the house. “Let me make my response inside where I don’t see my breath.”

  “Your cottage is closer.”

  Her bottom lip dropped into an ‘o’ shape in such a fetching way, he stared a bit too long. “My cottage?”

  “I’ve not been there yet, and my sister said I spent some time there before leaving.”

  Her brows rose almost to her hairline. “You did.”

  “Shall we?” He offered his arm, but she hesitated.

  “What about the field? I don’t want you to force anything.”

  “I think, if you’re with me, I’ll be fine.” He pressed the truth into his gaze. “I trust you, and after all, you seem to know what I need before I do.”

  She looked down at his arm and, after a slight hesitation, slid her hand close. Something clicked inside of him. The fit. The feeling. It resurrected similar moments through his mind like photographs. They didn’t equate a full memory, but they did ensure him of a sense of belonging. With her.

  “I can only visit for a few moments since I’m wanted in the village.”

  “I’ll take those.” He placed his hand over hers against his arm. “I’ve been doing research as well.”

  They crossed over the threshold of the walled garden, and he looked to the forest beyond, pulse soaring.

  She squeezed his arm. “Research, have you? And how is that supposed to impress me?”

  She did it again. Distraction.

  “Yesterday, I visited Roth Hall and Ednesbury’s public park.” His heart rate calmed and he rounded the front of the cottage, opening the door for her. “Even dared an entry into Madame’s shop.”

  “Desperate times, I see.” She shot him a grin over her shoulder. He almost melted into the floor.

  “And…and I visited the church where we wed.”

  That news stopped her as she removed her coat. “And what great mysteries did you solve with your research?”

  He helped her remove her coat and hung it by the door. “I have no memory of Madame’s, but that may be more of out of choice than loss.”

  She laughed, a sound as welcome as the sight of her. The sitting room invited him forward with warm-colored furnishings and morning light. His gaze filtered over the room and stopped at a settee. Perfect for two? He grinned.

  “There were a few pieces of memories inspired by Roth Hall, particularly related to the fire. I remember carrying you out of the smoke.”

  She took a seat. “You remember more than I do in that instance. I fainted.”

  “Smoke inhalation isn’t fainting, my brave dear, and it’s quite dangerous.”

  She avoided his gaze and picked at the end of her sleeve. “And the church?”

  “Nothing, I’m afraid. Or blurry somethings. In truth, the letters provided the best insight.” He placed her satchel on the table before her. “Thank you. I found them rather…enlightening.”

  Her grin arched in such a way that hit deep within his heart and encouraged images, and thoughts, of kissing her. ”Enlightening?”

  “Yes.” His voice hushed, deep with emotion, watching a faint and appealing darkening of her cheeks. He sat in the chair near her. “It seems that we were very much in love.”

  “Oh yes, I’ve never been loved by anyone the way you loved me.”

  He caught the past tense. “Give me time, Catherine. You may not know it, but I want to love you.”

  “You do?”

  “Of course.” He took her hand. “It pains me more than I understand to see how I keep hurting you.”

  A wounded expression carved its way into her brow, and she stood, pulling her hand from his. “Would it be better if I went away?”

  He stood and snatched her hand back. “No, no.” He placed her palm on his chest. “I’ve been separated from my memories for too long. Don’t separate me from my heart as well.”

  Tears welled in her sapphire eyes.

  He gathered both of her hands into his. “I’m afraid it’s going to take more pain first as we attempt to rediscover each other, but I’m willing to try. Are you?”

  Her loving gaze drifted over his face, leaving a caress behind. “Of course I am. I’ve become much better at waiting, if you haven’t noticed.”

&nbs
p; “You’re amazing, and growing more precious by the day.” He brought her hand up to his mouth, keeping his eyes on her face and slowly, with all knowledge of what he was doing, pressed his lips to her skin. Her eyes drooped closed, accepting this promise, this hope. “Perhaps rediscovery won’t be as painful as we think.”

  Her lips tilted again. “I can safely say I’ve been relatively pain free in your company all morning.”

  He kept a hold on her hands but looked around the room. “So we were here?”

  “Yes.”

  “And how long were we married before I left?”

  A pleasant smile softened her gaze into enviable memory. “Three days.”

  “Ah.” He tugged her a little closer into his embrace, enjoying the touch and closeness of her and distracted by the long line of her neck and the curve of her jaw. “And were we...um...together during those three days?”

  Her bewitching gaze locked with his, impish. “Many times.”

  A memory of her in his mind, dark hair tousled around her pale shoulders, rushed forward. He adjusted his collar. “Really?” His voice broke.

  “Mmm-hmm.” She seemed perfectly nonplussed that the room temperature had suddenly increased. In fact, she stepped out of his arms and reached for her coat.

  On instinct, he took it and wrapped it around her, trapping her inside. “I remember this.”

  “The coat?” Her voice grew suddenly breathless. Perhaps she noticed the temperature change after all.

  “Trapping you.” He drew her closer, appreciating the curves of her lips. “How was it?”

  “You were spectacular,” she whispered and then slipped free from his hold and walked to the door.

  He followed in agony. “The coat?”

  She ducked her head under the alcove of the door, clearly ignoring his question. “If you’ll excuse me, Dr. Ross, I have an appointment.”

  He snagged her arm before she could get away. “David, call me David. Don’t you think, after all…the togetherness”—he nodded toward the cottage—“we should be on a first name basis?”

  Her smile spread wide, sweet and happy. “Yes, David. I do.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  And the flirting commenced.

  They played this dance, passing comments as one left the room while the other entered, conversations over dinner, and an occasional walk about the garden, but to her disappointment, no kissing…yet.

  Then one day, he pulled her into an alcove away from prying eyes and pressed her back against the wall.

  “I remembered something this morning.” His gaze dropped to her lips, a hungry look sending tingles over her skin and a blush of heat into her cheeks.

  “Did you?” She was amazed she managed to speak at all. The thickness in the air at his closeness dried her throat. So long.

  “Mm-hmm.” He teased her chin back a little and pressed the gentlest kiss on her cheek. “Something about a supply closet, I think.”

  His lips roved a little further south, warming the soft spot at the juncture of her jaw and ear.

  “That is a very good memory.” Her voice disappeared into a sigh as his lips descended to her neck and she gripped the front of his shirt.

  “And this is a very good reminder.”

  Her knees grew weak, but she tried to pull him closer…as close are her burgeoning middle allowed.

  “Dr. Ross.” A frantic voice echoed down the hallway.

  David grimaced, his thumb caressing her lips. “I believe we might need some privacy very soon, my dear Kat.”

  Then she saw it. The tenderness, the endearing warmth of love returning into his eyes. For her.

  “Dr. Ross.” The call came again with more intensity.

  David growled and then took her hand, emerging from the alcove. Nurse Render, one of the newer nurses sent by Lady Hollingsworth, met them.

  “Your father was just brought in. His autocar…he had an accident.”

  David exchanged a glance with Catherine and tightened his hold on her hand. “Where is he?”

  “We’ve taken him to your study, sir.”

  Alexander sat on the settee in the study, looking more disgruntled than hurt.

  “Father?” David knelt by his father’s side. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m angry, is what I am.” He attempted, unsuccessfully, to wrap his own arm.

  David took over, but apart from a bleeding forearm and a scratch on his cheek, Alexander appeared unscathed.

  “What happened?”

  “Something underhanded.” He barked, his green gaze shooting daggers. “I’m having Mr. Coates check on it straight away.”

  “What do you mean?” Catherine lowered herself to the settee beside him, and he rested his hand on hers.

  Emotions tightened in her throat at the simple gesture of inclusion. He’d begun to fill the barren place in her heart where a good father belonged.

  “The car was fine when I drove into the village, but when I started back, the brakes were out.”

  “You think someone tampered with the car brakes?” David finished wrapping the wound and sent Catherine a look from his periphery, clearly struggling with an extra dose of anxiety. “Why?”

  Alexander raised a brow, his concern hitting hers like a billiard ball. “I can think of a few reasons.”

  Catherine shook her head. “Surely she wouldn’t resort to such malice.”

  “Wouldn’t she? I’ve stolen her power. Desperate people make desperate choices, I’m afraid.”

  A frigid silence followed his words.

  “You mean Aunt Maureen, don’t you?” David sat back, from the blow. “What don’t I know?”

  “Excuse me, sir.” Mr. Coates appeared in the doorway, looking quite out of place and uncomfortable inside the great house.

  “Coates?”

  “It was as you suspected, sir. Someone tampered with the brakes.”

  David stood, tremor shaking his voice. “We must do something.”

  “I’ll make a formal complaint to the police in the morning, but until then, I would ask you both to stay near the house.”

  “There’s no reason to leave except for mother’s house party in two days, but if it is Lady Cavanaugh, or one of her lackeys, I doubt it will be easy to prove.”

  “Most likely I’m the only one threatened, but I’d prefer you stay close to Beacon.” He patted Catherine’s hand and looked up to David. “For your own good.”

  “Why would Aunt Maureen threaten you, father?”

  “I’m the heir of Ednesbury Court, son.”

  David kept a close eye on his father over the next two days. The incident with the automobile had ignited the anxiety he already attempted to keep under amicable control. He checked in every two hours until his father told him to leave and prepare for Moriah Dougall Pike’s reception.

  Catherine had gone early with Ashleigh to assist in preparations, which kept him on edge a little more. He wanted her close, safe, and his occasional paranoia sent the need to see her to another level. Mentally, he’d learned how to talk himself into a calmer state, but his pulse rarely listened.

  He arrived a little later than anticipated and followed the butler toward the ballroom. The newly installed electric lights brightened the elegant room, a small orchestra played Strauss in the far corner, and several couples danced across the glossy, mahogany floors.

  David’s grin froze. He’d danced before, hadn’t he? A breath of a memory teased into his mind, complete with a vision of…his bride.

  He blinked. Was it a memory? There she stood, speaking with her sister, in the same gown he’d just envisioned. She glanced up then, her smile spreading as she saw him, and his breath locked in place. He knew this memory. The dark red hues of her gown, the loosely pinned hair, the smooth skin of her neck. And her eyes…tender and tantalizing all in one.

  He walked toward her, focused. Certain. Images spun, one right after the other, like a moving picture show, each adding up to a night not too different than this
one.

  “You look ravishing.” The unconventional response materialized before he could stop it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to voice those thoughts.”

  She stepped close, her daring grin covering his embarrassment. “Never apologize for complimenting your wife, Dr. Ross. It should occur on an hourly basis, at least.”

  Her face tilted in such a fetching way, he almost snatched a kiss in front of the entire room. “What if I’m cross?”

  “Then you should complement your wife every half hour in good faith, for she’s most likely the reason.”

  He chuckled. “I have a feeling life with you will be more adventure than crossness.”

  “Oh, I’m quite an expert at being out of sorts. Just ask my mother.”

  David looked to the dance floor for the signature couple of the evening. “The source determines the clarity of the information, my dear Kat.” He gestured toward the other dancers. “Would you care to join them with me?”

  “Dance?”

  “Unless I’m misreading the response of half the people in the room, dancing is allowed.”

  She shook her head. “No, I’m not going to dance.”

  His hope took a tumble. “Why ever not?”

  “Look at me, I’m enormous. Poor Annie had to let out two inches from this gown so I could wear it tonight.”

  “Look at you?” He took in the full vision of her—bare arms, long neckline and mesmerizing eyes. “I…I don’t believe I should ever tire of looking at you.”

  A rush of crimson flooded her cheeks, and she smiled to the ground. The sense of warmth at her pleasure produced an excellent aphrodisiac.

  “No matter what flattery you mutter, I will not make myself the subject of any more attention in my present state.” She waved at her stomach which still seemed quite small to him, especially when hidden beneath the glossy layers of her gown.

  “Then here?” He held out his hand and gestured toward the balcony just outside the ballroom. “The two…or, rather, three of us?”

  He drew her forward into the late March evening. One palm came to rest against the small of her back, his other hand took hers, and he began to sway with the music. “I remember dancing with you.”