The Importance of Being Alice (30 page)

“Yes, it was very timely of him,” I said with a little smile at Elliott.

Rosalyn patted my shoulder. “It can't be pleasant having your ribs scratched, but since nothing was broken, and the bullet didn't hit an organ, then I'm sure that you'll be able to return to making grandchildren soon.” She beamed at me. “I'm so glad that Elliott chose you to marry. You're going to make an excellent chapter in my autobiography. Come, Jane, dear. I wish to have a few words with you about what you've been up to in Paris.”

Elliott helped me out of the wheelchair, and eased me into the passenger seat of his car.

“I'll catch a ride with you,” Gunner said, lingering behind him.

“Like hell you will. I'd like to have some time alone with my wife.”

Gunner nodded to where Jane, Patrick, and Rosalyn were getting into a Land Rover. “Don't make me have to listen to the lecture Mum is going to read Jane about the wisdom, or lack thereof, regarding her proposal to move in with Patrick. It's bound to get ugly since Patrick keeps telling Mum that he has more than enough money to buy Ainslie Castle from you, if we'd just convince you to sell.”

“I'm not selling, and you're not riding with me. Go talk to that detective you seemed to like,” Elliott said, nodding over to where a couple of plainclothes detectives from London emerged from the hospital. Anthony, his head swathed in a bandage, was holding his own conversation
with a couple of men who Elliott had told me quietly were from MI6. As we looked over, Anthony raised his hand in acknowledgment, one that Elliott returned.

“Hmm,” Gunner said, his eyes on the pretty blond detective who had been sent to help take the traitorous sisters into custody.

Elliott didn't wait for his brother to decide—he got into the car, and started it up before Gunner could say anything.

“I'm sorry,” he said after ten minutes of silence.

I turned my head to look at his profile, barely visible in the darkness. I'd been watching the black shapes slide by as he drove, as the painkillers put me in a suitably dreamy state. “For what? Me getting shot? That wasn't your fault.”

“I'm sorry that I didn't protect you better, yes, but I was also apologizing for being so mysterious that you thought I was a spy.” The silhouette of his face shifted as he looked at me. “You really thought I took that trip in order to cover covert actions?”

“Well, it seemed to make sense at the time. Especially after you said what you did about Gunner.”

“I thought you knew me better than that. Perhaps we did rush things. It might have been better if we had time to get to know each other before we were married.”

“You're lucky I'm drugged out of my gourd right now, because if I wasn't, I'd punch you in your good shoulder,” I said sleepily. “We may have rushed things, but that just means we have lots of time to learn all there is to know. For instance, I'm not going to tell you about the fact that I can tie a cherry stem into a knot with my tongue until our third anniversary. It'll be a wonderful surprise for you when I trot out that fact, let me tell you!”

His laughter was warm and comforting, filling the car and surrounding me in a cocoon of happiness and love. “Ah, Alice, where would I be without you?”

“Lost, unloved, and miserable,” I said serenely. “Now pull over and kiss me. I have about half an hour before the painkillers wear off, and it's going to be a long three weeks.”

He did as he was told, pulling me onto his lap, my body singing a happy little song about being held so close to him. “All right, but remember, it'll be my turn to be in charge when the couple of weeks are up.”

“Absolutely, your right royal lordship,” I said, and allowed him to kiss the breath right out of my
lungs.

Read on for a a sneak peek at Katie MacAlister's next Matchmaker in Wonderland Romance,

 

A MIDSUMMER
NIGHT'S ROMP

 

Available from Signet Select in May 2015

W
e continued down another dozen steps until Gunner stopped, saying, “All right, we're at the bottom.”

“Sorry,” I said, releasing his shirt and giving his back a quick brush to try to relax the wrinkles I'd put into it. “You may want to iron your shirt later.”

“Actually, I was going to tell you to hold on to me since the floor isn't level and I have no idea if there has been any destruction since Elliott last visited.”

“So long as you don't mind a wrinkly shirt.” I clutched the material again, trying to peer around him as we slowly walked forward. “There aren't any rats down here, are there?”

“I imagine there are any number of them. Why? Are you afraid of rodents?”

“Not unduly so, although I could do without the mental image of being trapped by a cave-in and consumed by a horde of hungry rats.”

He laughed, but it sounded muffled and unnatural, making me all that much more aware that we were deep
under the castle and far away from all signs of life. “Don't worry, I won't let that happen. I have my mobile phone. Ah, here we go.” He stopped suddenly and set the lamp on the ground. “I thought I remembered something like this. Let me light the second lamp, and then I'll show you what I hope will make up for losing the premium dig site.”

The passage was too narrow for me to see anything around him but the brownish gray stone walls, in some places stained black over the centuries, with various bits of roots and long-dead plant life sprouting through crevices. I rubbed my nose, which was itching with the smell of earth and decay.

Gunner got the second lamp lit. He flashed a grin over his shoulder at me. “Ready to be astounded?”

I eyed him. “You're not going to drop trou and demand I admire your gorgeous testicles, are you?”

“Not after you disparaged their beauty.” His teeth flashed again, and then he lifted his arms, a lamp in each hand, and turned to the side so I could see past him. Beyond him was a whole lot of blackness . . . and dull gray shapes dotting the ground.

I gawked for a second, then dropped the shovel and toolbox and squeezed past him, taking one of the lamps in the process. “What is this, a wall? Or the road?”

“That, my sweet Lorina, is the corner of a wall of a structure. See the right angles? It's definitely a building of some sort and could possibly even be part of the second villa.” Gunner carefully walked past me, then stood looking down at the exposed stone structure that lay crumbled and half-buried in the dirt of the bolt-hole, disappearing under one of the brick walls of the castle.
“And we don't even have to dig down for it. It's just a matter of uncovering it.”

“OK, that is worth giving up the prime spot for,” I said complacently, mentally rubbing my hands together at the thought of stealing some of Paul's thunder. Then I realized I shouldn't be relishing that since I had a plan, and, the temptation of Gunner aside, I wasn't going to forgo my vengeance. Not when there were other women like Sandy out there. “We should get Daria in here, though. She's a bit hurt because Paul swanned in and took away the cellar dig from her.”

He made a face, then gave a rueful grin. “I was going to protest that I'd prefer to remain with you alone, but this isn't the ideal location for seduction, so we might as well have the help she'll be able to give us.”

“Look, buster,” I said when he pulled the walkie-talkie off his belt, “I realize that I fully participated in the kissing and butt groping and licking of nipples and stroking of chest and arms and back, but that doesn't mean I'm interested in you, nor am I even remotely susceptible to seduction.”

Gunner cocked an eyebrow at me.

“Dammit, how do you know I'm lying?” I demanded to know.

“I'm not sure. I just know.” He turned a couple of knobs on the walkie-talkie, frowned at it, and pulled out his cell phone instead.

“No reception?” I asked a couple of minutes later.

“No. The phone says I have a connection, but it doesn't seem to want to actually connect.” He sighed. “One of us will have to go fetch Daria. Would you prefer to stay here with the rats, or should I fend them off while you find her?”

I shuddered. “How about we both go?”

He shook his head and eased himself down onto the ground. “It's hard enough walking with the cast on this ground that I don't want to make extra trips. I'll wait here while you bring her.”

“All right, but I'll leave you a shovel so you can whack at any rats that charge you.” I shifted both the toolbox and the shovel so that they were set next to him. He immediately took a trowel from the former and started scraping at the exposed stone.

“Tell Daria to bring any portable lights that she can find. And possibly a camp chair if she has one.”

“I'll go for the full ‘digging in a bolt-hole' kit,” I promised, and, picking up one of the lamps, made my way back to the stairs.

“You might also ask the catering people if they could send us some coffee or tea in a bit. I suspect we're going to be down here for a while,” Gunner called after me, his voice muffled.

“Will do.” I started up the steps, holding the glass lantern carefully. I was mentally rehearsing what I was going to say to Daria when I reached the door and gave it a shove.

It didn't move.

“Well, of course you're stuck. That just figures.” I set down the lamp and pushed at the door with both hands.

It still didn't move.

I sighed a sigh of the martyred and threw my full weight against the door.

Nothing happened, but my shoulder protested the action.

“Great. Now I have to go down and get Gunner, and he shouldn't be walking up and down stairs on his owie
foot. I just hope you're happy,” I told the door, giving it another shove.

I stomped back down the stairs to Gunner.

He looked up, surprised that I was back so quickly. “Change your mind?”

“No. The door is stuck. Can you work your manly magic on it so that I can get us coffee and Daria and chairs and more lights?”

He frowned but followed me back to the door.

Ten minutes later, I started to panic. “What do you mean it's going to take more than you to get it open? You opened it less than half an hour ago! Why can't you open it now?”

“Because I was on the other side of it then, pulling the door toward me. Now I'm on the top of a narrow stair, and I can't get a running start to throw myself into it. And even if I could, I wouldn't, since I'd likely fall and break several more bones.” Gunner was silent a moment, rubbing his shoulder where he'd repeatedly attempted to force the door open. “I'm afraid we're stuck here until someone notices we're gone.”

I stared at him in horror. “You have got to be kidding!”

“Unfortunately, I'm not.” He tried his cell phone again, shaking his head. “Still not connecting even though it displays the network. Do you have a mobile phone?”

“Not one that is set up to work in England. Maybe if you get right next to the door, you can get the walkie-talkie to work.”

“I'll try.” He sat on the top step and spoke into the radio, but there was no reply.

“Well, that's it,” I said dramatically, taking a lamp and marching down the stairs. “We're doomed.”

“Careful,” he warned, following me at a slower pace. “Those steps are uneven. You could fall and hurt yourself.”

“What does it matter? We're going to die down here anyway! I'd rather have a swift death due to a plummet down ancient steps than I would a slow, lingering death where I sit in the dark and wonder if I should try to eat your corpse or use it to catch rats and eat them.”

“What makes you think I am going to be the one to die first?” He limped past me back to the part of the passageway where the stone ruins jutted out of the earth. “I've got more body mass than you do, so if we're going to starve to death, then logically you will be the one to go first and I'll have to decide whether to begin by eating your legs or going for your arms.”

I wrapped my arms around myself and sank less than gracefully down onto a bit of stone wall. “Oh, I like that! You wouldn't even have a dilemma about whether you should eat me over the rats, where I'd be in all sorts of mental hell trying to justify cannibalizing you. Well, fine. If you want to be that way, then I won't even consider the rats—I'll just start in on you. Happy now?”

“Not very, no, but it's not because of your desire to eat me.”

I glanced sharply at him, but there wasn't even the least little bit of a leer about him. That made me sad and oddly irritated. “If you're going to have that attitude, then you're going to be lucky if I wait until you're dead before I start chomping on you.”

He surveyed the area for a few minutes, then, with a half shrug, got down onto his butt and started working with a brush and a trowel on the nearest stretch of archaeological interest. “I wouldn't eat your legs unless you were almost dead and were paralyzed.”

I gasped. “Oh my god, do you mean you'd seriously eat me while I was still alive?”

“You just said you'd do the same to me.”

“I said you'd be lucky if I waited!” I threw a clod of dirt at him. “I never said I'd actually do it. My god, you're a monster, do you know that? You're just a cannibalizing monster!”

“How is it being a monster when you'd be paralyzed and near death?” he asked, brushing the dirt off his leg—my aim sucks. “It's not like you'd feel it. You probably wouldn't even know if I waited until you drifted into a coma.”

“I am speechless with appallingness,” I said, heedless of grammar, and stood up. “So speechless that I'm going to leave you to your horrible, foul thoughts and take my very nonparalyzed legs and try to find a way out of this hellhole.”

“Bolt-hole,” he corrected, and other than raising an eyebrow at me, didn't say anything when I shuffled my way past him, carrying one of the lamps.

Almost an hour later, I admitted defeat.

“Back so soon?” he asked, looking up.

“I had to.” I held out the lamp. “It ran out of oil.”

“Ah. Yes, that was bound to happen. Luckily, this one seems to be all right.”

“Gunner,” I said, and slumped down next to him, “hold me.”

He set down the tools he was still using. “Are you still angry with me?”

“No. I can't do anything about the fact that you don't have the moral compass to leave my legs alone even if I wasn't dead yet. We're trapped in here, Gunner, really trapped. There's nothing farther down the passage other than a big wall of nothing.”

He nodded. “That would be the cave-in my father mentioned when Elliott and I were little. There is no more to the bolt-hole.”

I scooted over so that he could put his arms around me properly, and leaned into him, breathing in the now slightly musty scent of him. “What are we going to do? I wasn't serious about eating you, you know. I don't want to die down here.”

“You won't,” he said in a calm, matter-of-fact voice that did much to ease the panic quickly growing inside me.

“You don't know that for certain.” I swallowed back a lump of what was most likely tears waiting to be shed. “I don't see how we're going to get out of here. Why aren't you doing something?”

“I am doing something. I'm holding the most desirable woman in the world.”

“Yes, you are, if by that you consider that your world is limited to this passageway, but that also means I'm the
only
desirable woman in the world, so I'm not too ecstatic over the title.”

He chuckled into my hair, then slid a finger beneath my chin and tipped my head upward so his lips brushed mine when he spoke. “If I told you that at this moment the only thing concerning me is whether I'm going to be able to keep my hands off you, would you think I was sex obsessed?”

“No, but that's only because I've been trying all morning not to slide my hands into your shirt.”

“Why would you stop an urge like that?” He kissed me before I could answer, his mouth warm and wonderful and so exciting that it almost made me forget the fact that we were more or less buried in a tomb beneath the castle.

I swear that every nerve in my body was alight at that moment. I simultaneously didn't want the kiss to end and wanted to fling Gunner to the ground, strip off his clothes, and rub myself all over him.

“Lorina?” He ran his thumb over my lip.

I quivered like a plucked bowstring. “Hmm?”

“If you want to put your hands under my shirt, you can. I'd even take it off for you, if you like. My shirt, not your hands. Evidently I've lost the ability to grammar.”

“I think that's just my mouth being infectious,” I told him, and started to reach for his chest. I stopped when my brain finally recovered enough from the kiss to remind me of several things.

His eyes narrowed on me. “What are you doing? You're thinking, aren't you? I can see you are. You were about to torment my chest again, and then you thought of something and stopped. Stop thinking. There's no reason you shouldn't touch my chest. And for that matter, any other part of me that happens to tempt you.”

I sat on my hands. “You know, there are times when I really wish I could stop thinking. But unfortunately, my brain is annoying and it picks weird moments to remind me of things, and it just reminded me of something
important.”