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His uncle nodded. “Then, first thing tomorrow, I’m going to contact the families of those who died so horribly. Something must be done for them.”
It was the first time Parker had heard Judson voice any kind of concern for others. He clapped a hand on his uncle’s knee. “Especially since it’s Christmas.”
A smile replaced Judson’s puzzled frown as he extended a hand. “Of course. Thank you for exonerating me.”
Those few heartfelt words from the uncle he’d never felt close to eased the pain in Parker’s leg.
BADGE OF HONOR
Barred by the authorities from taking the ferry into the waters of the Severn, Samantha’s father had been out and about for most of the morning. He returned home for lunch, chest thrust out and beaming. Samantha suspected he’d enjoyed the congratulations of more than a few he’d encountered.
“The Reverend Pilsbury has organized a memorial service for the victims of the disaster,” he reported. “Given the numbers expected to attend, it’s going to be held in the community hall at four o’clock.”
“People will come from miles around,” Mrs. Hindley said.
As the conversation continued over lunch, Samantha grew impatient. “Did you bump into Sergeant Cullen?”
“No. I expect he’s gone home to sleep. Apparently, they were at the police station all night interrogating the suspects.”
Samantha wished she knew where he lived. Perhaps…
She dismissed the idea of visiting him. It was unladylike to even consider it. He wouldn’t welcome her if he was exhausted and, in any case, he’d probably forgotten all about her in the excitement of the arrest.
“They say the man who organized the whole thing is an Irish American,” her father said. “I cringe to think it may have been the chap who took the ferry the other day.”
Grace snorted. “I doubt there are a lot of Irish Americans in an out-of-the-way place like Aust, Daddy.”
He grimaced. “No. He did stand out. So close to evil and I didn’t even realize it.”
“Because you always see the good in people,” Samantha replied in an effort to lighten the suddenly somber atmosphere.
When the meal was finished and the dishes washed and dried, Samantha retrieved her engagement ring from the trinket box in her bedroom, donned her cape and went out into the back garden. The house backed on to the river and the view was normally very inspiring but, now, the twisted metal of the bridge’s remains scarred the vista. Her breath hung in the frigid air as she exhaled, her throat tightening when she recalled how Brock had died. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, clutching the ring. “I wasn’t the right woman for you. Rest in peace.”
Blinking away tears, she flung the sapphire as hard as she could, wailing in frustration when it failed to reach the water far below.
“You throw like a girl,” a deep voice said.
She whirled to see Parker behind her. “How long have you been there?”
“Only a minute,” he replied, taking her into his embrace. “It’s all right to cry. You must have loved him at one point.”
She rested her head on the solid wall of his chest. “I think I was more in love with the idea of being married,” she confessed.
He put his hands on her shoulders and held her away. “It would be an honor if you’d consider marrying me,” he said.
She ought to refuse him. They barely knew each other. And yet, she did know him. There was an alchemy between them. Her body and heart had recognized him as her soul-mate the moment they’d met. “Yes, I will be your wife,” she said. “I’m in love with you.”
Their breath mingled as he lowered his mouth to kiss her. Their last kiss had presaged disaster, but Samantha clung to him as he lifted her to his hard body, knowing this mating of tongues promised a future full of love. Despite the chill in the air, her body heated. Her nipples cried out for his touch. Moisture pooled in a very private place.
“I can’t wait to make you mine,” he rasped when they broke apart. “I’ve never craved a woman the way I crave you. However, I need to sit.”
She looked into his eyes, warmed by the glint she saw there. “I’m so thoughtless,” she said, leading him by the hand to sit on her father’s favorite bench under the leafless apple tree. “You must be exhausted.”
He put an arm around her and drew her close. “I am a little tired, but knowing you’ll be my wife has renewed my energy.”
She snuggled into him, wishing she could close her eyes and the twisted carnage upriver would be gone when she opened them again. “Thank you for catching those men.”
“It had to be done,” he replied modestly.
