A Kiss to Remember (22 page)

After their near disaster with the poison, he had simply assumed that she’d abandoned her wild scheme. But what if he’d been wrong?

He was scanning the shadows beneath the oaks when he caught a glimpse of gold in the bell tower high above. The stone angel perched on the tower’s jutting parapet, her unfurled wings reaching for the sky. Directly below, Laura and Nicholas still stood on the steps, the crowd around them finally beginning to thin.

And what will you do if none of these experiments yield the results you had hoped for?
he had asked Lottie while they were sitting in the exact spot where Laura and Nicholas now stood.

She had glanced up at the angel and smiled that secret little smile of hers.
Then we shall simply have to look heavenward for some divine inspiration.

“No,” George whispered, his horrified gaze traveling slowly back up to the angel’s cherubic face. “Oh, please, God, no.”

No one would ever have to know. If he could just reach Lottie before she did something foolish, no one would ever have to know.

That was the litany running through George’s mind as he shoved aside old Halford Tombob to reach the door to the bell tower.

The old man shook his cane at him. “In my day, young pups like you had some manners about them!”

There was no time for apologies, no time to allow his eyes to adjust to the shadowy gloom inside the tower. George stumbled his way through the maze of bell ropes, then went flying up the winding stone staircase, his heart racing in his chest.

Until he burst into the tower and saw something that nearly stopped it altogether.

Lottie sat on the ledge behind the angel, digging at the mortar around its base with an iron chisel.

George froze, afraid to take another step.

Lottie’s little face was unnaturally composed. She didn’t even look up from her task. “You needn’t try to stop me. I’ve worked too hard for this. I’ve been up
here chipping away day after day at this cursed rock while you were practicing tying your cravat in front of the mirror so you wouldn’t embarrass his lordship at the altar. If you want to be helpful now, then go back down there and see if you can lure Laura off the steps.”

“Put the chisel down, Lottie. You don’t want to do this.”

“And why not? You have to admit that it’s a brilliant plan, worthy of even the most lurid Gothic plot. Everyone will think it was simply a tragic accident. Laura can have Arden Manor. We can have Laura. And everything will go on just as it did before
he
came.”

George shook his head. “No, it won’t. Nothing would ever be the same again because you would have broken Laura’s heart.”

“She’ll forgive me in time,” Lottie insisted, dislodging a large hunk of mortar. “She never could stay mad at me for more than an hour. Remember the time I let Miss Fuzzy birth a litter of kittens on her favorite shawl and she called me a horrid, selfish brat? I cried so hard I couldn’t breathe and she was soon apologizing for making me turn blue.”

“Your tears won’t be enough to fix things this time.” George took a step toward his sister before saying softly, “She loves him, Lottie.”

Lottie went utterly still, the chisel sliding from her limp hand to clank on the stone floor. When she finally lifted her big blue eyes to George, they were brimming with tears. “I know. So do I.”

George barely made it across the tower in time to catch her as she crumpled. She clung to him, sobbing not like the sophisticated young lady she tried so hard to be but like the little girl she was. Her broken wail
was muffled into his shoulder. “He called me Goldilocks! He ruffled my hair and called me Goldilocks just as Papa used to do!”

George awkwardly patted her hair. But the words of comfort he started to offer were drowned out by a deafening
bong.

His entire body began to vibrate.

The bells! he thought, clenching his teeth against a wave of shock. The sexton must be ringing the bells to spread the joyful news of Laura and Nicholas’s marriage throughout the countryside. That heavenly chiming created a hellish cacophony inside the bell tower.

Lottie jerked out of his arms with a soundless shriek, clapping her hands over her ears. Before he could grab her, she went reeling backward, stumbling right into the stone angel.

The statue began to rock back and forth. As the last of the mortar binding it to the parapet crumbled to dust, it pitched forward. George lunged for it, but he was too late. He and Lottie could only watch in horror as the angel took flight and went hurtling toward the steps below.

Do you hear bells?”
Nicholas shouted as the tower above them burst into deafening song.

“No bells, darling,” Laura shouted back, “just angels singing every time I look into your eyes.”

He arched one eyebrow, his expression more devilish than angelic as he pressed his mouth to her ear, and murmured, “Tonight I promise to show you a glimpse of heaven itself.”

“Why wait until tonight?” Laura mouthed back at him. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips as she turned her face to his in invitation.

He was about to accept that invitation when a shadow came plummeting out of the sky, consuming every drop of sunlight in its path. Laura was still standing with her eyes shut and her dewy lips parted when Nicholas gave her a violent shove, sending her sliding down the church steps on her backside.

A tremendous crash sounded, followed by a blinding cloud of dust and a flurry of gasps, shouts, and coughing.
For several minutes, Laura could only lie there in the grass, utterly stunned. Nicholas’s kisses had been known to have some startling effects on her, but she’d never had one hurl her down a flight of steps.

Fanning the dust away from her watering eyes, she struggled to her feet. The beautiful gown Cookie had labored over with such care was sullied by grass stains and torn in half a dozen places. Her circlet of rosebuds drooped over one eye. She was vaguely aware of people milling around in the churchyard behind her, their panicked shouts ringing over the unrelenting chiming of the bells, but all she could think of was getting back to Nicholas.

Weaving like a drunken wood sprite, she started up the steps. They were littered with bits of mortar and chunks of stone. She was picking her way over a jagged fragment when a familiar voice shrieked, “Laura!”

Laura jerked around to see Lottie come flying around the corner of the church with George in tow. Lottie’s face lit up like a Roman candle when she saw her, but darkened just as quickly. The children both stumbled to a halt, looking at something just behind Laura.

The villagers fell silent. The bells ceased their chiming. The angels stopped singing. Time itself seemed to slow to a crawl as Laura turned. The dust had just begun to clear, revealing a man sprawled like a broken puppet against the church door.

“Nicholas?” Laura whispered.

She dropped to her knees at his side. Except for the blood trickling from a shallow cut on his brow, he looked peaceful enough to be sleeping. Laura blinked, trying to convince herself that the mysterious object lying beside him actually
was
a severed wing. She
turned her gaze to the heavens, realizing for the first time what had happened.

When the statue of the angel had come toppling off the parapet, Nicholas had shoved her out of harm’s way, taking the brunt of the blow himself.

As the villagers began to creep up the steps behind her, Laura slipped her trembling hand inside Nicholas’s waistcoat. His heart beat strong and true against her palm, just as it had that day in the wood.

Relief coursed through her, swelling to joy as his eyes began to flutter open. But the dazed expression in their depths gave her a fresh moment of horror. If a blow to the head could rob him of his memory, was it possible that a second blow could restore it?

Grasping the lapels of his coat, she gave him a gentle shake. “Do you know me, Nicky? Do you know who I am?”

She bit her lip as his eyes struggled to bring her face into focus. She could feel the villagers holding their breath right along with her.

“Of course I know who you are.” He reached up to brush a rosebud out of her eye, the dimple in his cheek deepening. “You’re my wife.”

As Laura threw herself into his arms, laughing through her tears, a cheer went up from the villagers. With her help, Nicholas staggered to his feet, earning another rousing huzzah.

Laura wrapped her arms around his waist, clinging as if she would never let him go. “You gave me the fright of my life! I thought you were done for.”

“Don’t be silly, pet. A man who can dodge a cannon-ball isn’t about to let a mere statue fall on his head.” He rubbed at his temple, wincing when his fingertips found
the gash. “I ducked beneath the doorframe, but the wing must have struck me a glancing blow.” He shot the empty parapet a troubled glance. “What do you think caused it to fall? Could it have been the bells?”

Before Laura could answer, they were borne on a tide of goodwill down the steps and into the churchyard. While Tooley Grantham slapped Nicholas on the back hard enough to make him stumble, Tom Dillmore winked at Laura, and said, “Good thing you came round when you did, mate. I was making ready to offer my condolences to the little widow.”

The rest of Laura’s rejected beaux followed their lead, gathering around to praise Nicholas for both his bravery and his quick reflexes. They were all too distracted by the joyful chaos to even notice the glossy black town coach that was just drawing up outside the churchyard gates.

Widow Witherspoon dug her bony elbow into Laura’s side. “Out of my way, girlie! You’ve already had your chance to kiss the groom. Now it’s mine.”

Laura had no choice but to step aside and let the cackling widow press her puckered lips to Nicholas’s cheek. She was laughing at his good-natured wince when she saw the coach. Her relief that her bridegroom was alive was still too keen for her to be anything more than mildly curious as a footman garbed in gold livery leapt down from his perch and threw open a door painted with an elaborate coat of arms.

Her eyes widened as two monstrous creatures emerged from the coach’s darkened interior. They were far too large to be dogs. They must surely be wolves.

“Look, Mama!” a child shouted. “Look at the bears!”

Alice Bogworth let out a shrill scream and the villagers began to scatter as the beasts came loping into the churchyard, making a beeline for the grassy area in front of the steps. Laura stood paralyzed with fright, unable to run, unable to scream. But the creatures galloped right past her. Leaping as one, they planted their massive paws on Nicholas’s chest, knocking him flat.

Instead of ripping out his throat, as Laura had feared, they began to lap at his face with their lolling pink tongues. Nicholas lay in the grass in a dazed heap for a moment, then grimaced and shoved at their mammoth heads. “Good God, would you stop slobbering all over me? I’ve already had a bath today, thank you very much.”

He struggled to his feet, clutching at his head, but the dogs continued to frisk and gambol in circles around him, making escape impossible.

It wasn’t until one of them trod soundly on his foot that he threw back his head and roared, “Caliban! Cerberus! Sit!”

Everyone in the churchyard flinched, including Laura. The dogs sat, suddenly as harmless as a pair of bookends.

Nicholas’s eyes met Laura’s and it was clear from the panic and confusion within them that he was as stunned by his outburst as she had been. But there was no time to compare reactions, for a lady had emerged from the coach and was racing down the path.

Bursting into tears, she threw her arms around Nicholas’s neck and began to smother his face with kisses. “Oh, you dear wicked thing, you’re alive! You’re really alive! I had nearly given up all hope!”

At first Nicholas stood stiffly in her embrace. Then
his arms slowly began to rise. “Diana?” His hand shook as he smoothed her sleek dark hair away from her face. “Is it you? Is it really you?”

Laura turned her face away, no longer able to watch the tender reunion. From her satin half-boots to the swirling ostrich plumes on her hat, this woman was everything Laura would never be—beautiful, elegant, sophisticated. And plainly adored by the man in her arms.

Nicholas had promised her a glimpse of heaven and it seemed that was all she was going to have.

As Lottie slipped her small hand into Laura’s, a gentleman with a walking stick tucked under his arm came striding past without sparing either one of them a glance.

Nicholas stared at him blankly for several seconds before recognition dawned in his eyes. “Thane?
Thane?
What in the hell are you doing here?”

The man clapped him on the shoulder, grinning broadly. “I’m charging to your rescue, of course, just as you charged to my rescue so many times on the battlefield. Surely you didn’t expect me to sit idly by when I heard you were about to go and get yourself leg-shackled to some silly country chit.”