Mary Putney - Shattered Rainbows

"True, but don't worry about whether you can be still for that long," Nicholas said pleasantly. "If you try to push yourself too hard, I will nail you to the bed."

Michael smiled, knowing full well that his friend's words were not a joke. He would have a leisurely convalescence whether he wanted it or not.

A soft rap on the door heralded Catherine. "Nicholas, your carriages have arrived."

The earl glanced from her to Michael. "I'll go and supervise the baggage loading." Tactful as a cat, he left.

Catherine's hair was drawn back simply, emphasizing the fine bones of her face. Her cheekbones were more prominent than when they met. She had lost weight, much of it because of the work and worry he had caused.

Eyes not meeting his, she said, "I hate good-byes, but I suppose they're necessary."

"They make it clear when something is over," he agreed. "When are you and Amy leaving for Paris?"

"Tomorrow. The house will seem empty tonight with everyone gone." She drifted to a window and gazed out at the ramparts. "It's strange. You and I became good friends, yet much of that was a result of being in the same place at the same time."

Was that what she thought of the complicated, undefined feelings between them? "I would like to think we would be friends under any circumstances."

"I'm sure we would be." A pulse was beating hard in her throat. "Perhaps what I meant was that our paths would not have crossed if not for the war. Since you're selling out of the army, we probably won't meet again."

He was painfully aware of that fact. "If you and Colin should ever wish to tour Wales, you would be very welcome at Bryn Manor. You would enjoy Nicholas's wife, Clare."

"Nicholas is wonderful," she said with a quick smile. "He could charm the fish from the sea. What is his wife like?"

"Very down to earth. Clare was a village schoolmistress before her marriage. She says there is nothing like teaching thirty children to make one practical." He spoke almost at random, all of his attention on the lithe figure silhouetted against the window. Even though passion was beyond him at the moment, he knew the memory of Catherine's provocative curves would haunt him through sleepless nights the rest of his life.

One thing must be said before he left. "A simple thank-you seems inadequate when you saved my life several times over. I am deeply in your debt, Catherine."

"And you saved Colin and Charles."

"Lending a horse is hardly in the same category with what you did," he said dryly.

"All women are nurses when necessary," she said with an embarrassed shrug.

"Oh?" He held out his hand. Uncertainly she came forward and clasped it. He pushed her sleeve up with his free hand, revealing the small, not yet healed scar inside her elbow. "This is hardly normal nursing. Elspeth told me. Why didn't you?"

Her mouth curved ruefully. "I was ashamed of my presumption. Though the transfusion worked out well, it might easily have killed you."

"Instead, it saved my life," he said quietly. "You gave me your heart's blood. I will never receive a more precious gift."

"Given for selfish reasons." Shimmering tears made her aqua eyes enormous. She blinked them away. "I don't like my patients to die. It's bad for my saintly reputation."

His hand tightened on hers. "Catherine, if ever you need any kind of help, come to me. I will do anything in my power."

Her gaze shifted away. "Thank you. I'll remember that."

He raised their joined hands and kissed her fingertips, then released her. "See that you do."

"Good-bye, Michael. I'm very glad our paths crossed." She touched his cheek with gossamer lightness, then turned and left the room. She swayed gracefully, a sensual saint.

He wanted to call her back, to lock her in his arms so she could never escape. He wanted to plead with her to leave her husband and live with him no matter what the consequences. To prevent that, he clenched his teeth so hard that his jaw ached.

Perhaps he might have asked her to leave her husband if he had not once before urged a woman to do exactly that. He had already used his lifetime's supply of folly.

The door closed behind her. As he listened to her retreating footsteps, he felt the tightening of his lungs that heralded an asthma attack. Bands of fire constricted his breathing and the first tendrils of fear clawed into his muscles.

He lay back and forced himself to inhale and exhale very slowly. In and out, in and out, until the air was moving smoothly again. The scorching pressure and fear faded away.

Drained, he stared at the ceiling. It was the closest he had come to an asthma attack in years. Since Caroline had died.

He closed his eyes. He had done the right thing. Someday he would be proud of that, but now he felt only anguish.

Catherine was the most remarkable woman he had ever known. And he hoped to God that he would never see her again.

Spring 1816

The door of the London town house was opened by a neatly dressed housemaid. Catherine said, "Is Mrs. Mowbry home? If she is, please tell her that Mrs. and Miss Melbourne are here."

The housemaid glanced curiously at their travel-stained clothing before going to obey. A minute later, Anne came swiftly into the vestibule. "Catherine, how wonderful to see you! I thought you were still in France." She hugged both of her visitors.

Catherine noticed that Amy was now almost as tall as Anne, and Anne had regained her figure after the birth of her second son. Much can happen in a year. Too much. "We've only just arrived in England." She took off her dusty bonnet. Her temples were throbbing with a rare headache. "Is Charles home? Or your mother-in-law?"

"They're both out." After a shrewd glance at Catherine's face, Anne continued, "Amy, would you like to join Molly and Jamie? I believe they are about to have tea in the nursery."

Amy brightened. "Oh, yes, I'd like that. I've so much to tell them. I want to see Clancy and Louis, too."

After the housemaid took Amy off, Anne ushered her friend into the small drawing room. As soon as the door closed, she said, "It isn't polite to say this, but you look downright haggard. Are you ill, or simply tired by the long journey?"

Catherine sank onto the sofa. Now that she had reached a safe haven, she didn't know if she would ever be able to move again. "Colin is dead."

"Dear God." Anne's eyes widened with shock. "What happened?"

Catherine peeled off her gloves and crumpled them into a ball. "He was murdered."

"Oh, Catherine, how horrible! After he had survived so many battles without a scratch."

"It happened on the street late one night. He had just left a friend's house." Catherine pressed her fingers into her forehead, remembering the horror and disbelief she had experienced when Colin's commanding officer came to break the news. "He was shot in the back. It… it was over in an instant. A violet scarf and a note saying 'Vive le empereur' were left beside him. Apparently he was killed by a Bonapartist, for no better reason than because he was a British officer."

Wordlessly Anne sat and gathered Catherine into her arms. Her friend's sympathy released the tears that Catherine had been holding back ever since she'd learned of Colin's untimely death. When her tears had finally run dry, she said in a raw whisper, "It almost made me wish he had been killed at Waterloo. That was the death he would have wanted. To die at a coward's hand was damnable."

"He died for his country as much as if he had died in battle," Anne said softly. "At least it was quick. Now he will never grow old. Colin would not have liked aging."

That was true, but little comfort. Colin had been a long way from old age. On the verge of tears again, Catherine sat up and groped for the handkerchief in her reticule.

Anne frowned. "I'm surprised that the news of his death hasn't reached England. Did it just happen?"

Catherine's mouth twisted. "The authorities feared that if his death became widely known, public opinion would be roused against France. As you know, the moderate treaty that came out of last summer's conference was hard won. The British ambassador personally informed me that a public scandal over the murder of a heroic army officer might endanger the peace."

"So Colin's death has been hushed up."

"I wasn't exactly forbidden to speak of it, but there were several earnest requests that I be discreet. Scarcely anyone knows outside of the officers of the regiment."

"I suppose that makes sense. We certainly don't need another war." There was a long silence as each of them remembered the high price of battle. Shaking her head against the thought, Anne asked, "Are you planning to take a house in London, or would you prefer a quiet place like Bath?"

"Neither," Catherine said grimly. "I must find work. I knew that Colin was bad about money, but I didn't realize how serious things were until after his death. My dowry, the income he inherited from his father-everything is gone. Not only that, but he left a mountain of debts. Thankfully, most of his creditors are officers in the regiment. I don't think any of them will try to send Amy and me to debtors' prison."

Shaken, Anne said, "I had no idea." After a long silence, she said, "No, that's not true. I'd almost forgotten that he owed Charles a hundred pounds. We'd given up hope of seeing it."