Part 14 (1/2)

1:00 p.m.

They leaped from Hart's coach and ran up the front steps to his home. They did not knock, but barged in, much to Alfred's shock. ”Where is Mrs. Kennedy?” Francesca cried, standing behind Hart and Bragg, Joel at her side.

Blinking, he said, ”She is in the gardens, Miss Cahill, with Father Culhane and-”

Francesca cried out, following both men as they ran through the house and out the back doors. The moment they reached the terrace, she saw Maggie crumpled in the gra.s.s.

Seized with fear, Francesca looked again and saw two men struggling on the lawn. With shock, she realized her brother was in the midst of a deadly struggle with Father Culhane.

Dear G.o.d, she had been right!

Joel took off, racing to his mother and dropping down beside her.

Francesca ran to them, praying desperately that Maggie was all right. She dropped to her knees. Joel was weeping. Instantly she noted that Maggie was as white as a corpse. She then saw a thin red line on her throat-it was a scratch, nothing more. Francesca reached for her wrist to take her pulse as Joel cradled her face, tears falling down his cheeks.

Francesca found her pulse. It was strong and steady and relief overwhelmed her then. Just as she was about to tell Joel that his mother was fine, Maggie's eyes opened.

”Shh,” Francesca said. ”Don't sit up quickly.”

But Maggie cried out, struggling to rise, her gaze on the deathly fight behind her. Francesca turned to see Evan landing a solid blow to Culhane's face. The priest's nose was shattered already, blood pouring from it, and now he staggered backward, cras.h.i.+ng into the gazebo.

Bragg leaped between the two men, grabbing Culhane and shoving him face first to the ground. He straddled him, cuffing him almost simultaneously. ”You are under arrest,” he said flatly.

Hart had put his arm around Evan, as if to hold him up. ”Are you all right?” he asked.

Evan did not answer. He shoved free, rus.h.i.+ng over to where Francesca sat with Maggie and Joel. He knelt, almost pus.h.i.+ng Francesca aside in his haste. ”Are you hurt?” he cried. Blood

trickled from his mouth, where his lower lip was split He gripped Maggie's shoulders. ”Are you hurt?” he repeated anxiously.

”I'm fine,” Maggie whispered, tears clouding her eyes. ”But you're not...you're hurt.” She touched his mouth.

Francesca knew when she was an intruder and she slowly got to her feet, taking Joel's hand. There was no doubt now in her mind as to which way this wind was blowing. Then she gave in to her curiosity. She looked once more and saw Evan pull Maggie against his chest.

He held her hard, his eyes closed, his expression one of anguish. For one moment, she could only stare. Joel was also staring-but with a smile.

Hart pulled Francesca to him and took her hand. They exchanged a long glance and then he said, ”Will you ever heed my advice?”

She began to breathe more normally now. They had their killer and the case was almost closed. She smiled at him. ”Your advice, yes. Your orders? I don't think so.”

He sighed, appearing equally annoyed and relieved, no easy task, indeed. Then he slid his arm around her. ”This solves it, then,” he said. ”We are marrying immediately, because I am not letting you run around this city by yourself, chasing killers like Culhane. When I look in the mirror tonight, I will undoubtedly be gray.”

Francesca tried not to appear pleased. Keeping a straight face, she said, ”There are only a few new white hairs at the temples, Calder, and it is really most attractive.”

Hart shook his head.

He was so afraid.

Harry de Warenne paused in the dark, unlit corridor outside Gwen's door, acutely aware of his feelings and worse, his own vulnerability. But then, he had followed his lover across an entire ocean, unable to forget her. From the moment he had realized that he could not let Gwen go, he had begun to live in real, raw fear. He hesitated, filled with dread.

For he understood the complications and he knew the odds.

Justice did not walk hand in hand with fate.

And that terrified him.

He did not have to knock. The door swung open and Gwen stood there, her hair haphazardly pinned up, her eyes wide, her skin impossibly pale. ”Harry?” she whispered.

He inhaled hard and tried to smile and knew he failed. ”I hope I am not calling at an inopportune time,” he said.

”Of course not.” She was the one who managed a frail smile. ”Come in, please.”

He walked inside, his heart beating hard, wondering how to say what he had crossed an entire ocean to say, afraid of her response. He turned. ”Come home with me.” And he winced. That was not what he had come to say, or at least, not that way.

”Wh-what?” she gasped.

He briefly closed his eyes. Then he opened them and found himself staring into Gwen's, vaguely aware of Bridget having come to stand behind her mother. ”When Miranda and the boys died, I knew my life was over.” He could not form a smile. ”But I was wrong, because as much as I longed to die with them, I didn't. I continued to breathe, I continued to wake up day after day after day. I continued to eat, to sleep. But my world had changed. It was dark and gray.”

She reached for his hand, tears in her eyes. ”I know. I know how much you love her, how much you miss them.”

”No, you don't know,” he cried. ”One day, years later, I walked into my study at Adare and you were there, the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. My heart, which had stopped beating the day I lost my family, began to beat again. I was so afraid, Gwen, I was so afraid of you,” he said desperately, gripping her hands tightly now, afraid she would pull away.

She stared in shock. ”You were afraid of me?”

He somehow nodded. His heart drummed. ”I was afraid of betraying my wife, my children, with the feelings that began to grow inside me that very day. I was afraid of loving someone

again as much as I had loved Miranda-I was afraid of losing that love again one day. I can't manage to lose that love another time, Gwen,” he said hoa.r.s.ely. And he wondered if she understood.

”What are you saying?” she cried, tugging her hand free of his.

”I have come to America to ask you to be my wife,” he said simply.

She stared, her eyes as huge as saucers.

And he was sweating now. ”I have done something rather unconscionable. I have bribed your husband into signing a statement claiming he is your close cousin, releasing you from your marriage. A part of that bribe required that he go to California, which he has done.” He nervously awaited her reaction; he could not seem to breathe.

But she was too stunned to speak.

”I have friends in high places,” he said urgently. ”I can have your marriage annulled.”

She wet her lips. A tear fell. ”Did you...did I...did I just hear you say you came here to ask me to be your wife?” she asked numbly.

”Yes,” he said solemnly, but his heart wasn't solemn at all. He felt as if it would pound its way right out of his chest. ”I love you, Gwen. I never thought I could love again, but I do. I want to take care of you and Bridget, I want to take you both home, with me, where you belong.”