A Momentary Marriage(101)

“I am angry at you. You’re pushing your nose into my business. It has nothing to do with how I feel about Laura.”

“And how do you feel about Laura?”

“The same as I always have,” James retorted, beleaguered. “She’s an admirable, intelligent, lovely woman who was foolish enough to fall in love with you and even more foolish to marry me.”

“That’s what you think. What do you feel?”

“I feel damn sorry I ever walked into this room with you, that’s what. I’m leaving.” James turned and strode to the door. “I am going to dance with my wife and do my best to forget this entire conversation.”

A smile played at the corner of Graeme’s mouth. “I wish you luck with that.”

James made his way down the corridor toward the ballroom. He realized he was scowling when one of the footmen walking toward him took one look at him and hurriedly ducked into an open doorway.

Making a conscious effort to clear his forehead and unclench his jaw, James continued to the ballroom. There were still a few people dancing, though some had left and many were sitting about in small clumps, chatting. He glanced around, but Laura was nowhere to be seen.

He looked across the room to the double doors leading outside and saw Laura standing on the flagstone terrace. She leaned against the stone balustrade, hands braced on the wide stone rail, gazing out across the garden. James stepped through the doorway, saying her name, and she straightened and turned toward him, smiling.

There was a harsh scrape of stone against stone on the balcony that formed the roof of the terrace. Instinctively James glanced up and saw a large, dark shape hurtling down from the balcony above. He shouted Laura’s name, his insides going cold as ice as he desperately lunged for her, knowing he could not possibly reach her in time. Laura flung herself forward, falling to the ground, as a large stone flowerpot crashed onto the railing where she had been standing.





chapter 37


It was the flash of fear on James’s face that sent Laura rushing toward him. The enormous crash came a fraction of a second later, and something thudded into her back, knocking her down. Then James was there, saying her name and going down on his knees beside her.

“Laura, Laura, are you all right?” His hands swept over her, searching for damage. “Are you hurt? Did it hit you?”

Laura blinked, momentarily numb with shock. “What? What happened?”

“A bloody urn fell from the balcony, that’s what happened.” James’s voice was shaky, his hands cold. “No, don’t get up. You may have broken something.”

“I’m fine. It didn’t hit me. Let me up.”

Instead he swept her up in his arms and stood. She had a glimpse of the stone balustrade, a large crack running across it, and pieces of stone, dirt, and plant scattered all over the rail and floor, before James turned and carried her inside.

“James, I’m all right. Really,” Laura protested, but she was secretly glad he ignored her words. She felt both numb and shaky, and it was comforting to be held in his arms.

James set her down on one of the chairs and knelt beside her, holding her hands in his, his face pale. Mirabelle and Abby came to her other side, and everyone crowded around, all talking at once.

“What happened?” Tessa cried. “Laura, dearest, are you all right? You should lie down. James, take her upstairs.”

“No, really, it’s not necessary.” Laura put her hand on James’s arm to forestall him. “It just startled me.” The fall had jarred her and the spot high on her back was beginning to throb, but she wasn’t about to be tucked away into bed yet.

“You were hit.” James’s hands were gentle on her shoulders as he turned her. He brushed a hand lightly over her back. “Your dress is marked here. Are you sure you’re all right? Where’s the doctor anyway?” He glanced around.

“He and his wife left some time ago, dear,” Aunt Mirabelle answered. “Should we send someone after him?”

“No, please, really, I’m sure nothing is broken,” Laura assured them. “I’ll fix a poultice to take away the ache.”

“You’ll do nothing,” James said flatly. “Someone else will make a poultice.” The color was rushing back into his face now. His eyes glittered. “What I’d like to know is how the hell a great urn like that could fall from the balcony.”

No one had an answer to that. Graeme, who had wedged his way through the others, said, “Laura! Good Lord. Are you all right?” Without waiting for a reply, he went on, “This puts an entirely different light on your other accident.”