Innocent Bystander
Page 30
Abigail was dwarfed by the immensity of the carved gothic arches and pillars of the glorious building as she strolled through the patches of shadow and glimmering simmer dim—a Scottish term for a twilight still bright enough to read by. It shone in shattered sequins through the ancient leaded glass. Her dark blue day dress easily merged into the shadows until her pale face seemed to float like a specter toward the huge west door, emerging into the daylight of the busy city as she hung back to observe the open square beyond. It wasn’t an accident that she wore blue. It was the color best used in surveillance as it disappeared in muted light better than black. For the same reason, it was best for avoiding being tracked.
Edinburgh was as busy as any city on a weekday lunchtime, and probably noisier, due to the ancient cobbles over which the horses and carriages clattered on the south side of the square. Hawkers and traders yelled and chanted their descriptions of their various wares as they wandered among the bustling people shopping, conducting their business, or hurrying back to work after a midday break.
Her eyes scanned the square, just as they had for almost three weeks. Every nerve tensed in anticipation, preparing for the inevitable disappointment. How much longer was she going to keep this up? Had he even understood the message, let alone picked it up? The square was examined once more for anyone who looked like they might be lying in wait, but she soon relaxed. Nobody acted in any way suspicious. She knew how thorough Tom Bartlett was and her ex-Pinkerton colleague was likely to have checked every telegraph station near South Street or the railway station in San Francisco for messages relating to Quinn, but he wouldn’t have considered checking the police station itself. It was unusual enough for such a place to have a telegraph from him to overlook the very place she messaged Nat from. Even if Tom had, the message was pretty obscure.
But was it too oblique?
The explosive blast of black powder crashed through the air as the one o’clock gun blasted from the parapets of the castle at the top of the Royal Mile. It was intended to signal the time to ships out in the Firth of Forth so they could set their maritime clocks, but it was used by almost everyone to mark time. Especially those who now quickened their step to get back to work after their lunch break.
Her dark eyes swept back over to the mosaic heart set into the footpath a few yards away and her heart skipped a beat. A tall man was standing on it and looking around. He turned, still searching as he moved until he faced her. It was Nat. The short brown beard altered his appearance, but those dancing cinnamon eyes were unmistakable. A dimple of delight appeared in his cheek, still visible through the neatly clipped fuzz.
She gulped hard, tears prickling up until they welled into pools of relief as their eyes locked in recognition. Abigail skipped down the steps toward him, her heart fluttering in joy. Nat strode out to meet her, his jacket flapping open to reveal the waistcoat beneath as it swung in the light breeze. He caught her in both arms hugging her close and dropping light kisses between words.
“I was so afraid you wouldn’t come. That you wouldn’t understand my message,” Abigail murmured.
He captured her mouth, the kiss deep and searching as the disapproving glower of the passing population fell away from them in the indifference of the moment. They stood, her face cupped in his hands as they both took short, tremulous breaths. Nat leaned forward, resting his forehead on hers as his hands slipped over her shoulders until he cradled her in his arms.
“Not come? Nothing would have stopped me while I have a breath in my body. I love you Abi, and I intend to love you for a long time yet. Come with me.”
He stepped back, his hands sliding down her arms to hold each of her hands, leading her back over to the Mosaic Heart set into the cobbled sidewalk until he stood right in the middle. He crooked a knee and bent his right leg but Abigail gasped and pulled him back.
“No!”
“What? I want to get down on one knee and propose to you.” His brow creased. “Don’t you want to marry me?”
Her eyes widened, and he pointed down to the cobbled heart. “It’s not that. You can’t kneel on there. People spit on the heart.”
“Huh?” Nat frowned and stared down at the ground. “Why?”
“Sort of a lucky thing. Just don’t kneel there. It’s horrible. Please.”
The dimples pitted Nat’s cheeks as he chuckled under his breath. “Typical, huh? You and I never get hearts and roses huh? We get hearts and—”
Abigail pulled him over to the cobbled square, well away from the target area for any discharge and smiled. “This’ll do. We can see the heart. That’s enough. Mr. Quinn, I have something to tell you.”
“Mr. Quinn?” his brows arched. “No, that won’t do anymore.”
Her smile warmed. “Yes, Nat. I have something I need to say.”
“It’ll keep.” Nat sunk to the ground on one knee and fished in his pocket. “Abigail MacKay.” He shook his head. “No, Abigail Stewart. Will you—”
“No, Nat—” she shook her head. “There’s something you need to—”
His face fell. “You don’t want to marry me?”
Concern fluttered across her face as she shook her head. “It’s not that—”
Footsteps clattered up beside them as Nat climbed to his feet, disappointment dripping from every word. “What then?”
“What’s wrong?” Jake appeared, also sporting a short beard. “She’s turned you down? Abi? He’s come all the damned way to Scotland. Have a talk with yourself.”
“I haven’t turned him down. I’ve got something I need to tell him.” She frowned at Jake. “In private.”
“Anything you can tell me, you can tell him,” said Nat. “What’s wrong?” Suspicion crowded his face. “Are you still married? You’re not a widow?”
“Of course not. I’m—”
“You’ve changed your mind?” Jake cut in.
“No. I’m—”
“I can’t believe you dragged me all this way for her to turn you down, Nat.”
“Will you two let me speak? Nat, I’m—” she glanced at Jake and pursed her lips before tilting herself forward on her tiptoes. His hair tickled her nose as she whispered in his ear.
She stepped back to watch his face turn blank and his eyes widen. “You’re sure?”
Abigail nodded. “I’m certain.”
“What?” Jake looked from one to the other. “What’s wrong?”
A beaming smile spread from ear to ear, and Nat’s jaw dropped open. “You’re pregnant?”
Jake sucked in a breath. “Pregnant?” He threw back his head and gave a whoop of delight. “Pregnant! When’s it due?”
“Will you keep your voice down?” Abigail eyed the curious passersby pausing to stare. “February-ish.”
She found herself grabbed in a bear hug and spun around in the air. “Nat, put me down.”
“Yeah, Nat. You can’t throw around a pregnant woman. She’ll be sick and it’ll splatter folks. It ain’t right.”
“Pregnant?” Nat planted a long kiss on her lips before gingerly setting her back on her feet. “That’s the best news I ever heard. How are you? Are you tired? Sick? Shouldn’t you be sitting down?”
“I’m fine. I just wanted you to know before you—” She shrugged. “Well, got yourself in too deep. I wanted you to know I can manage, if you didn’t want to—”
“Not want to?” Nat’s brows met but his eyes still gleamed with delight. “Abi, sometimes you can be a real pain in the ass. Are you loco?” He dropped back down on one knee. “Abigail Stewart will you marry me?
He crooked up one devilish brow and delivered his most glittering smile. “You kinda have to, now. Don’t you?”
She paused, unable to keep the smile from her face. “Only you could try to propose where people spit and call your bride-to-be a pain in the ass. You’ll never change, but yes—Ignatius Ebenezer Dunraven Quinn. I will.”
She was snatched up once more and smothered in a myriad of kisses. She felt Jake muscle his way
in, hugging her close.
“Welcome to the family,” he murmured in her ear. She turned to a still-grinning Nat, who held out a ring box.
“For you, darlin’. But I wouldn’t take any bets on me not changin’. You’re about to meet a whole new man.”
She flicked open the box, revealing a beautiful ring in the form a garland of rose gold ivy leading up to a diamond encircled with opals and seed pearls. “Oh, it’s so beautiful. I love it. Put it on.”
“It’s probably too big, but we’ll get it made to the right size.” Nat slipped it on her finger. He gazed straight into her eyes with a naked honesty he rarely showed. “I’m gonna make all the changes you need, darlin’. It’s fresh start for us all.”
“Well, if you’re going to change, I suppose I’d better make the most of the old you while I can.” She pulled his face down to meet hers. As their lips locked, her mind filled with visions of the dancing devilment in his dark eyes. What delicious capers would he take her on next?
About The Author
Chris Asbrey has lived and worked all over the world in the Police Service, Civil Service, and private industry, working for the safety, legal rights, and security of the public. A life-changing injury meant a change of course into contract law and consumer protection for a department attached to the Home Office.
In that role, she produced magazine and newspaper articles based on consumer law and wrote guides for the Consumer Direct Website. She was Media Trained, by The Rank Organization, and acted as a consultant to the BBC's One Show and Watchdog. She has also been interviewed on BBC radio answering questions on consumer law to the public.
She lives with her husband and two daft cats in Northamptonshire, England—for now. She’s moving to the beautiful medieval city of York.
Blog - The Enigmatologist - all things obscure and strange in the Victorian period https://enigmatoligist.blogspot.co.uk/
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THE INNOCENTS MYSTERY SERIES