Page 47 of The Right to Remain Single

James crawled forward, hoping the ghost knew what he was talking about. Well, he’d been right so far.

“I’m fine!” called Thomasina at last. “James, get out of there!”

James sagged with relief. He paused, despite the ghost’s continued urging. It was one thing to kill Sam to save Thomasina, and another entirely to murder him. James slithered backward.

“Watch out!” cried Max.

But by some primitive instinct, James had already ducked his head, and Sam’s fist glanced off his shoulder.

With a cry, Samuel Furbelow overbalanced and fell. His shriek echoed…and echoed…and ended with a wet, sickening thud.

Chapter Ten

Thomasina hopped and hobbled, barefoot and torn, around the shrubbery. “James!” she cried, sobbing. “James, where are you?”

“Coming.” He backed through the gap in the holly. She flung herself into his arms.

“Oh, my love, my darling.” He held her as if he would never let her go. “I thought I’d lost you.” He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her over and over, and she clung to him. She loved him so much.

At the sound of the ghost close by, they broke apart.

“Thank you, Max,” Thomasina said. “You saved my life.”

“You’re a hero,” James said. He said it again in Latin, just to make sure the ghost understood. Max grinned and answered, and James laughed.

“What?” she asked.

“He says to go indoors. If you catch your death of cold now, he will have wasted his effort. What happened to your foot?”

“He twisted it. It hurts when I walk.”

“Bloody bastard.” James swept her off her feet. She put her arms around his neck and rested her head on his chest. So strong and so safe…

“Sam…fell down the well, didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

She hesitated, but she had to know. “Did you push him?”

“No, although Max wanted me to. Furbelow swung at me, but by some miracle I ducked, and the blow glanced off my shoulder. He lost his balance and fell.” He frowned down at her. “What the deuce were you doing out here?”

“You said Sam was an excellent bowler, and it suddenly occurred to me that he might have thrown the rope over the bushes that surround the old well.”

“Not the way one bowls in cricket, but he definitely has a strong arm. Had one, that is.”

“I never dreamed the boards had rotted.” She shuddered. “I wanted to prove to Papa that you were right. He was so unfair to you, and I couldn’t bear it.”

She took a deep breath. The time had come to confess her true feelings. To explain that she had changed, and…

“Miss Thomasina!” Mrs. Day trudged around the corner of the house. “Whatever is going on out here?”

* * *

Curse it, thought James, as Mrs. Day shepherded them through the front door. This very public entry might lead to another of Mr. Warren’s attempts to force his daughter into marriage.

As it chanced, the old man was too caught up by the dreadful news about Sam Furbelow. “He what? That well’s been closed up forever!”

“The boards have rotted away,” Thomasina said from a chair by the fire, where James had deposited her to warm her frozen toes. Mrs. Day fussed about, bathing her scratched face and hands, and wrapping a bandage around her twisted ankle. “Sam threw the rope down there after pulling the stone off the parapet.”