This was not supposed to happen. Regina had not agreed to testify. She had told Melville everything she knew about Gervis’s nefarious business operations and turned over the computer disk taken from his study, which held accounting information, private letters and memos to back up what she said. That was supposed to be the end of it. There were other witnesses who, under Melville’s guidance, could tie up the loose ends of the case as well as she could.
Surprise for the abrupt change of plans held her in paralyzed stillness. It was only as Betsy poked her in the ribs and nodded toward the witness stand that she forced herself to move.
Her knees trembled as she walked to the front of the courtroom. Her heart pounded so hard against her breastbone that she thought her blouse front was fluttering because of it. As she passed the table where Gervis sat, she met his malevolent stare. Strangely, her nerves settled a fraction. His venomous resentment filled her with bitter certainty that what she was being asked to do was right.
At the witness stand, she mounted to the chair inside the railed box. She took the oath, then seated herself and waited tensely for Melville to begin his questioning.
But it was Kane who rounded the end of the plaintiff’s table and walked toward her. Kane who placed his hands on the railing of the witness stand, leaning toward her, regarding her with dispassionate consideration. Kane was the man who had deliberately called her today when her guard was down.
Kane was the lawyer for the plaintiff who faced her as if he’d never kissed her, never held her, never fitted his body into hers as if providing the key piece to an intricate, interlocking puzzle. It was Kane who glanced toward the jury, then looked back at her with the chill gaze of an executioner.
“You are Miss Regina Dalton, resident of New York?”
“Yes.” Her voice was almost nonexistent and she cleared her throat, reaching up at the same time to clasp the amber oval at her throat. It offered no comfort. She released it.
“Until recently, you resided with the defendant, Gervis Berry, at the following location?” He reeled off the address of the 72nd Street apartment.
“That’s correct.”
“Did anyone else live there with you on a regular basis?”
She gave a stiff nod and supplied Michael’s name and occupation as houseman before adding, “There was also my son, when he wasn’t at school.”
“Your son. Is he in court with you today?”
“He is.”
“Point him out to us, if you will.”
Regina did as she was requested, though her hand trembled. Stephan, she saw, didn’t care for public notice any more than his mother. He slumped in his seat, staring white-faced at his feet while Betsy circled him with a plump and protective arm.
“You say that your son was in school when he was not with you. Can you tell us the name of this school?”
Regina gave it, though her head swam as she tried to figure out what Stephan had to do with the case at hand. Apparently, Gervis’s lawyers felt the same doubt, for they demanded to know where the testimony was headed. After a brief consultation before the bench, however, the judge ruled that Kane could continue.
“You call this a school,” he said when he stood before her once more, “but I don’t believe that’s quite correct. In fact, it’s an institution for problem children, isn’t that so?”
“My son isn’t a problem child. It was all a mistake.”
“I must ask you to confine your answers to the questions at hand. Was this, or was this not, an institution?”
She replied that it was, staring at him with active dislike. If he felt it, he seemed able to ignore it. Mr. Lewis was not quite so sanguine. He motioned for Kane to approach him at the table and the two of them exchanged brief comments accompanied by mirroring frowns.
That consultation made no difference. Seconds after it was over, Kane returned to the attack.
“Was it your idea, Miss Dalton, to have your son live apart from you?”
“No, never,” she answered, searching his face for some idea of what he was doing. The only thing she saw was that the small scar beside his mouth was white.
“Then the initiative for that came from someone else. Would you tell the court who arranged for your son to be institutionalized?”
She told him, then answered a number of questions intended to establish her exact relationship to Gervis.
“So this man is not now, nor has he ever been, a blood relative. More than that, he has no blood relationship to your son. Is that correct?” Kane paced in front of her as he formulated his questions.
“That’s right.”
“Yet he took it upon himself to consign your son to what amounts to a permanent hospital.”
She agreed.
“Tell the court, if you will, how that was done.”
She complied as briefly as possible since her voice wasn’t too reliable.
“Gervis Berry manipulated you into allowing your son to be removed from your care,” Kane said in summary. Swinging toward her, he added, “Is that the reason you decided to betray him?”
She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. It seemed she was damned as a traitor no matter which way she answered.
“Remember, please,” Kane warned with exacting grimness, “that you’re under oath to tell the exact truth.”
She looked at him and felt as if she were drowning in the intense sea blue of his gaze. He wanted something from her, she thought in momentary distraction, but she couldn’t tell what it might be, couldn’t quite understand the significance of the caution he had given her. What did it matter anyway? It was all over—her stay in Turn-Coupe, her brief part in its affairs, her even more brief relationship with Sugar Kane. There was no point in holding anything back, no need to conceal a thing.
She moistened her lips before she said, “I don’t consider what I did a betrayal. Gervis forfeited all right to loyalty when he sent my son away to suit his convenience. Or if not then, when he sent me here to spy for him.”
“You spied for him?” The question came with such promptness she was certain her answer was exactly what he expected.
“Yes,” she admitted with a twisted smile. “At least, I tried. I wasn’t very good at it.”
“That’s debatable, I believe. You arrived in Turn-Coupe with no advance preparation, nothing except an introduction, and wormed your way into a lot of places, a lot of…hearts.” With the briefest of pauses, he demanded, “Were you in any way responsible for the accident that injured Mr. Crompton?”
“No! I would never do such a thing!” She stared at him, aghast that he would even suggest it. Was this what he was after? Was she to be pilloried for everything that had happened, including the attempt to injure his grandfather?
“Then who was responsible?” The question rang like the crack of doom.
“That was Slater. Dudley Slater. He admitted—”
“Who is this Slater?”
“A man employed by Gervis.”
“Explain the exact nature of their working arrangement as you know it.”
She tried, though it wasn’t easy. Kane was relentless in his pursuit of details, firing questions at her one after the other so quickly that she had little time to think, no room for doubts or half-truths. The opposing lawyers, in evident disarray over the introduction of this new line of questioning, talked with their heads together. They emerged from their councils on several occasions to object, particularly when it involved her knowledge of the business and accounting practices of Berry Association, Inc., but were overruled more often than not. Even when they were successful, Kane merely rephrased the question and continued.
Regina was required to spell out every single detail she knew, each incident and piece of information, to the letter. The interrogation went on and on until it seemed she had been in the stand for hours, a lifetime. Kane wanted, it seemed, exactly what the oath she had been given demanded: the truth, and nothing but the truth.
As that realization sank in, she caught a fleeting, prescient glimpse of where he was headed. Goose bumps prickled her skin and panic clutched at her throat. No, surely not. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t, not in here in a public courtroom. Not in front of so many witnesses and in the midst of such important proceedings. It was impossible.
Surely he wouldn’t expose everything that they had been to each other, all the things that they had done? He didn’t dare use the tender, wanton desire they had shared to prove the perfidy of the man who had tried to ruin his grandfather. There was no way to bring it up without laying himself open to censure.
But if that wasn’t it, she couldn’t begin to guess what he required from her. There was nothing else. And why should she think he would hold that sacred? Just as there was nothing she wouldn’t do for Stephan, there was also nothing Kane wouldn’t do to help his Pops.
“You may be innocent of causing bodily harm, Miss Dalton, but isn’t it a fact that you used your position as an appraiser of antique jewelry to gain the confidence of Lewis Crompton? That you did this in order to discover information that would blacken his character?”
“Yes,” she said through clenched teeth.
“You undertook this campaign on the instructions of Gervis Berry. Is that right?”
“That was what he said he wanted, yes.”
“And did it work?”
“No.”
He halted in midstride, lifting a brow as he turned slowly to face her. “No? Why not?”
“Mr. Crompton changed his mind about selling the jewelry.” She added with strong irony, “I believe it was on the advice of his lawyer.”
“So that avenue was cut off,” Kane said with a sardonic smile. “Then what did you do?”
“I told Gervis what had happened. Someone else, Slater apparently, informed him that Mr. Crompton’s grandson might be interested in me. I was directed to concentrate on him instead.”
A wave of comment moved over the courtroom. Kane lifted his voice to be heard above it as he clarified, “You were told to concentrate on the grandson instead of Mr. Crompton?”
“Yes.” The word was husky.
“And did you?”
She searched his face, trying to see behind the stern lines of his features. It was impossible. She didn’t deserve this. Or did she? Here in this public place, the whole charade seemed far more sordid and contemptible than when it was taking place, and it had been bad enough then.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I did.”
“With what result?”
Did he really want her to spell it out in plain words? “We became—close.”
“You pumped him for information, is that it?”
She made a small, helpless gesture. “I tried.”
“You weren’t successful?”
“I think he was suspicious. I’ve come to believe that…” She stopped, not quite sure she should go on.
“What did you believe?”
She looked away. “That he had reasons of his own for spending time with me.”
“Even so, you continued this relationship?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
The word was bald and carried hostility behind it. Stung, she answered in kind. “Because I had no choice!”
“You had no choice? I find that hard to believe, Miss Dalton. Everyone has a choice of whether they will do right or wrong.”
“No, they don’t! Not when a child’s well-being is at stake.”
He swung to face her. “A child’s well-being? Your child?”
“My son,” she answered. “The only person I—” She stopped as her throat closed, choking off the words.
“Your son, Stephan Berry, who was with Gervis Berry in New York while you were occupied in Turn-Coupe?”
“Yes.” She managed to force out the answer though salt tears burned in her throat.
“In what way was the child involved in this situation?”
“Please,” she said as moisture gathered in her eyes. “I can’t—”
Kane did not relent. “Just answer the question.”
She looked toward Stephan, seeing through a blur of unshed tears the scowl on his small face. She thought that he was upset over the way she was being treated, rather than what was being said, though she couldn’t be sure. In desperation, she sought for words to explain that might mean nothing to him, yet would be intelligible to the court.
Haltingly, she said, “Gervis told me that he would outline to my son, in detail, the—the criminal attack that occurred nine months before his birth and that was its cause. That is—”
“He was threatening you, holding the mental well-being of your child over your head.”
“Objection!” the head of the defense team shouted.
“Yes,” she said on a rush of relief at not being forced to put the humiliation of her date rape into plain terms, though she thought, from the muttering in the courtroom, that it was understood well enough. For a single instant, she even felt wild gratitude toward Kane for the reprieve he had given her in spite of all that had gone before.
He swung from her to look at the head of the defense team who, suddenly detecting the lethal nature the interrogation had taken with respect to his client, was yelling about character assassination, precedents, and a half-dozen other legalities. In even tones, Kane said, “I withdraw the question.”
The judge signaled for quiet, delivered a short homily on procedure, then indicated that Kane could continue.
He approached the witness stand once more and braced his hands on the railing in front of Regina, staring down at the floor for a long moment. When he looked up, his clear blue gaze held trenchant contemplation. “According to your testimony, then,” he said evenly, “you were actively seeking information to be used by Gervis Berry to counter the suit that had been filed against him. Then you suddenly stopped and left Turn-Coupe to return to New York. Why was that?”
“He sent for me.” Her voice, Regina discovered, was firmer. At least the distraction had given her the chance to regain a little control.
“Did he give a reason?”
“He felt I wasn’t being as effective as I might have been.”
“Was he correct?”
“I—Yes, I suppose so.”
“Why was that?”
She avoided his gaze, noticing instead the faintly arrogant tilt of his head, the slope of his strong neck into the width of his shoulders, the careless familiarity of the way he wore his suit, as a soldier might wear a uniform. She said finally, “I was disturbed by the tactics he was using, particularly as carried out by Dudley Slater. Also, I had begun to grow fond of—of Mr. Crompton. It made me ashamed of what I had been doing.”
He pushed away from the rail. “But you didn’t remain in New York. In fact, you arrived back in Turn-Coupe again within forty-eight hours. Why was that?”
“I needed help. I thought I might exchange personal services or information I had about Berry Association, Inc. for aid in freeing my son from Gervis’s control.”
“Was this exchange made?”
“In a manner of speaking,” she affirmed, though her voice turned traitor again, almost disappearing. “I was helped to physically remove Stephan from New York and bring him to Louisiana.”
“After which, in spite of your own exhaustion, you spent hours at the side of the man who was injured during the course of this rescue. Why did you do that?”
“Gratitude,” she said with a helpless gesture, though she refused to look at him.
“And is that all?” he demanded, swinging closer again to add in warning, “Remember that you are under oath to tell the exact truth.”
She saw what he wanted. It was simple, really. He wasn’t going to be satisfied with anything less than her complete confession.
Fine. The trial would be over soon, and she would be gone. What would anything matter then?
It could even be argued that she owed him this pound of flesh. He had saved Stephan for her and been hurt in the process. He had nullified Gervis’s threat. He had even prevented Slater from attacking her before sending the little man packing. He had been there when she needed him, had given back to her more than he had taken. If he wanted public restitution, then he would have it.
In fact, he was going to get more than he bargained for.
“Well?” he demanded as she hesitated.
“No,” she said, her voice tight, “that isn’t all.”
“What else?” His gaze was intent, his mouth set in a straight line as he watched her.
She squared her shoulders and gave her head a defiant tilt. Speaking distinctly, she said, “I fell in love.”
“With whom?” he demanded above the whispering from the crowd behind him. “Whom did you love?”
Her lips curled upward at one corner. “Lewis Crompton’s grandson, Kane Benedict. I fell in love with you and will never care for another man in the same way as long as I live.”
For a single instant, heat flared in his eyes, then his lashes swept down, wiping away all expression. Ignoring the tide of conjecture that washed around them both, he looked toward the judge. In firm tones, he said, “I have no more questions for this witness.”
Turning on his heel, he walked away.
The verdict in the trial was reached a week later. It was for the plaintiff, Lewis Crompton.
Regina was not in court when it came in, but caught the news on television in her Turn-Coupe motel room where she had retreated from the stares and whispers. She immediately turned up the volume, then sat perfectly still as the familiar faces of Melville Brown and the other lawyers flashed on the screen. Melville was in fine form, calling the decision a consumer victory as well as one for his client. He also pointed out that it said good things about race relations in the South that a jury made up primarily of African-Americans could decide in favor of a white man against Northeastern interests.
Gervis’s team of lawyers was not so complimentary. Its leader claimed he and his team had been placed at a disadvantage by the archaic and unique Louisiana judicial and legal system and blindsided by the tactics of the plaintiff’s team of counselors. He maintained, as well, that the jury had failed to understand the broader implication of open-market competition between rival funeral service operations.
The jury foreman, a black computer engineer who had lived for years in Detroit before moving back to his grandmother’s home in Louisiana, returned that disdain in kind. The high-powered lawyers from the East, he said, had miscalculated. They had expected to overawe the small Southern law firm ranged against them with the weight of their importance while using race politics to obscure the issues and conceal the crimes of their client. By the time they’d discovered their mistake, it was too late.
Gervis had no comment to make on the case, but was shown flapping his hand at the cameras and microphones in his face, then jumping into a limousine and being whisked away. Lewis Crompton said a courtly few words, giving full credit to the perspicuity of the jury and praising his law team.
As Kane’s face flashed on the screen, Regina grabbed the remote and switched the TV to a cartoon channel for Stephan. She didn’t want to see Kane’s image, didn’t want to hear his voice. She really couldn’t stand it.
No word had come from him the day she left the courtroom; none had come since. She never expected to see or have contact with him again, which was exactly the way she wanted it.
If the trial was officially over, then she was free to leave. Regina jumped up immediately and began gathering the few belongings she and Stephan had accumulated. Taking the shirts and pants, skirts and blouses from drawers, she folded them into the discount-store suitcase she had bought.
“Mama?” Stephan said, sitting up on the side of the bed where he had been sprawled out playing with a book of Batman stickers. “Are we going somewhere?”
“Yes, sweetheart, we have to.”
“Where?”
“I don’t really know yet, just somewhere.”
She had thought of New Orleans, or maybe South Florida. It didn’t make a lot of difference so long as it was far away from Turn-Coupe. They would get into her rental car, she and Stephan, and just drive, turning right or left at the stoplights as whim moved them. It might be best, in fact, to have no set destination. If she had none for herself, then there was less likelihood of Gervis’s finding her.
Stephan kicked his feet, staring at his toes. “I like it here.”
“That’s because Miss Betsy has been spoiling you.”
“I like Miss Betsy, too,” he said in quiet stubbornness.
“So do I.” She smiled at his bowed head, thinking at the same time of how easily he had fallen into using the Southern titles of respect. She had developed a certain appreciation for them, as well, since it appeared that the respect itself often followed the form. There was much else she could have appreciated, she knew, given the opportunity, but there was no chance of it. The sooner they both faced it, the better.
Regina picked up a dirty sock from beside the bed and tossed it at the suitcase, then sat down beside her son. She took his small, square hand in hers, smoothing it, rubbing at the rough cuticles. Before she could put what she wanted to say into words, however, there came a knock at the door.
It was Betsy who stood there. “Hi, hon,” she said cheerfully, then looked beyond her to wave at Stephan. “Hello there, sport. Hate to bother you, Regina, but I had a call from Mr. Lewis. He said would you mind giving him a ring.”
The call had not come to Regina because she had unplugged the phone after several requests from reporters for interviews about her affair with Kane. Now she said, “Oh, I don’t know. I was just—”
“You’re leaving, right?” Betsy looked toward the open suitcase on the bed behind Regina. “I told Mr. Lewis you might be. He said would you stop by at least a few minutes before you take off.”
“I suppose I could do that.” It was the last thing she wanted, but she had little right to deny whatever he asked.
“Good,” Betsy said as she turned to leave. “I’ll let him know you’re coming.”
If it had not been for that assurance, Regina might have decided against going after all. The idea of Mr. Lewis watching and waiting for her while she drove off in the other direction didn’t sit well, however, so she turned toward Hallowed Ground. It was only as she pulled into the driveway that she realized she had never once thought of the wasted time involved in the visit. She had apparently begun to think like a Southerner, now that it was too late.
Mr. Lewis was at the rear of the house, working in the garden near the carriage house. He waved her around to the back parking apron, then took her inside through the kitchen door. Dora met them there, then enticed Stephan into stopping in her kitchen for the gingerbread man she had made just for him. Mr. Lewis ushered Regina into the sitting room next to the parlor with a promise that warm gingerbread and tea for her would be forthcoming.
“I really can’t stay,” she said in protest as she took the seat he indicated.
“I know, and I’m more sorry than I can say that you’re leaving us. I’d hoped for a different outcome. But I did want to give you a small token of my gratitude before you go.”
As he spoke, he picked up a box covered with worn velvet from a side table and held it out to her. She made no move to take it. “You have no reason to be grateful to me.”
“I disagree. Without your generosity in sharing your knowledge of Berry’s activities, my case would not have been so handily won. This geegaw once meant a great deal to my wife, and I’m certain she’d be happy to think someone owned it who could appreciate its value. Please?”
He opened the box this time as he pressed it on her. Regina looked down at what it held and was startled into silence. The necklace that glittered up at her was a mid-Victorian piece with bloodred stones holding a purplish tint that identified them as Bohemian almandine garnets. The workmanship was exquisite, an intricate gold-over-brass design of delicate flowers and medallions surrounding a perfect Georgian cross.
“It’s lovely, truly beautiful,” she said in soft acknowledgment as she touched it with a single reverent fingertip, “but far too valuable to give away out of your family.”
His smile was wry. “Not at all. No one could deserve it more than you. Garnets, you know, are said to represent truth, constancy and faith.”
“And you think I need those things, I see.” She could feel the heat of a flush spreading upward from her neckline.
“By no means,” he said in stern repudiation. “I think you have them already. Good Lord, have you no idea what you’ve done for this family? You shook up my grandson, knocked him out of his cynic’s self-absorption and made him and his old granddad see that being afraid of getting hurt is no way to live. You taught us that the truth is a two-edged sword, that it’s possible to learn more of it than you want to know. You kept me from being swallowed by a corporate python, gave me back my heritage and my trade. And that’s only the beginning.”
“I had my reasons, selfish reasons,” she answered. “Besides, I didn’t do any of it by myself.”
“We all have our reasons, something I hope you’ll remember next time someone needs a second chance. And none of us ever really acts alone.”
Just then, Dora appeared in the doorway with a tea tray in her hand. Her face was as serious as her voice as she said, “Mr. Kane’s coming up the drive.”
Regina gave a low cry and sprang to her feet. “I have to go. Where is Stephan?”
“Stay, please. You and Kane should talk.”
“I don’t think so. There’s nothing left to say.”
“You may feel that way, but I don’t believe—”
“No!” She moved swiftly toward the door, wondering if she could escape the back way before Kane realized she was there.
“I think it’s too late, my dear. You’ll have to face him. Unless you’d like to stay out of sight until he’s gone?”
She hesitated, glancing toward the front windows. Beyond the curtains, she could see Kane already getting out of his car. With an abrupt nod, she said, “If you don’t mind, that would be perfect.”
“In here, then.” He indicated the front parlor. To Dora, he said, “Take that tea tray away, will you? And keep Stephan as quiet as you can. Oh, and give us a second before you open the door, all right?”
Regina didn’t pause to hear the housekeeper’s answer, but slipped into the parlor, glancing around for a place to hide for a few minutes. She was considering the space behind the front curtain when Mr. Lewis followed her into the room.
“No, no,” he said hurriedly as he strode to the antique coffin that had started it all and pulled a footstool forward to act as a step. “In here.”
It was the last thing she wanted, but there was no time to argue. The doorbell was ringing in a sharp, imperious command. Regina climbed into the box and lay down, tucking her skirt around her knees. Mr. Lewis closed the lid and the latch clicked into place.
Panic swept over her in a wave. Locked in. Dark, smothering, dusty closeness, as black, airless and quiet as the grave. How could she have forgotten? How had she let herself be rushed into this again?
It was insane. It was also undignified and downright chickenhearted. She should face Kane instead of hiding. If she could just find and release the trip latch as he had that first day, she would do that after all.
She felt for the metal closure. Her fingertips brushed it, and she zeroed in on the mechanism, feeling for the way to release it. Surely it couldn’t be too difficult since it wasn’t really designed to keep people locked inside. With the promise of freedom in sight, her breathing eased.
Then she heard the baritone rumble of Kane’s voice. She went perfectly still.
“Betsy said Regina was here. Don’t tell me she’s gone already?”
“You see her anywhere?” Mr. Lewis asked. His voice came from just outside the double parlor doors, as if Kane had caught him as he emerged.
Kane made a sound between a snort and a sigh. “I might have known. I’ve never seen a woman like her for making things difficult.”
“I’d say you’re pretty fair at that yourself.”
“You could be right. I seem to have made a mess of things.”
“Nothing that can’t be straightened out,” the older man allowed, then added, “Of course, you have to have the nerve for it.”
There was no answer from Kane for long seconds, though Regina strained her ears to hear. She began to work once more at the coffin’s closure.
“I don’t think it will work,” he objected finally. “I did everything except call Regina a prostitute in public.”
Mr. Lewis made a sound of agreement. “I thought you’d gone plumb crazy for a while, until I figured out what you were doing. You were setting the record straight, weren’t you? Making it crystal clear that whatever she had done was because she was forced into it. You cut off the gossips at the knees.”
Regina blinked, then stared wide-eyed into the coffin’s darkness as she realized what Mr. Lewis was saying. It put a different perspective on the interrogation she had endured.
“The only trouble,” Kane said grimly, “is that I cut myself out of the game at the same time.”
“You went a little far, I’ll admit that.”
“I know.” Kane’s voice retreated as if he’d moved away in the direction of the window. “But there she was, under oath, at my mercy. It was more than I could resist.”
“So you made her say what you wanted to hear. But you couldn’t do a damn thing about it, there in public, without jeopardizing the case, giving the other side the chance to yell collusion between you and the witness. You should have thought of that before you started.”
He certainly should have, Regina thought. At the same time, she worked frantically at the latch.
“I did think about it. It just seemed worth whatever it might cost to know, once and for all, what it had meant to her. I was afraid that if I missed that chance, there might never be another one.”
“Now you know. So what are you going to do?”
“I thought if I could see her this morning, talk to her, there might be a chance.”
It was then that the latch clicked open. Regina shoved the lid away from her face with such force it flew back on its hinges and thudded against the wall behind it. Jackknifing to a sitting position, she turned at the waist to stare at the two men.
“Of all the arrogant, underhanded tricks I’ve ever heard, this one really takes the cake,” she said in strained vehemence. “I can’t believe anybody would do such a thing.”
Kane whipped around. “Regina! I can explain.”
“Shut up,” she snapped, “I’m talking to your grandfather.”
“To Pops?” Kane glanced at the older man who was trying to look innocent in spite of the amusement in his eyes.
“Exactly. Mr. Lewis Crompton, the so-called gentleman who lured me here under false pretenses and probably did the same to you with Betsy’s help. He had Dora keep my son busy, tried to bribe me into sticking around with a piece of antique jewelry, then he inveigled me into hiding in this stupid coffin again while he conned you into making your case so I could hear it. It wouldn’t surprise me one bit to learn he had some scheme in mind to see we wound up in this thing together again!”
Kane looked at his grandfather. “That right?”
“Guilty,” Mr. Lewis said without visible remorse beyond a hunching of his shoulders. “I had the best of intentions, I swear. I’ve never seen a pair who belonged together quite as much as you two.”
“You really had some plan for getting us back together in that coffin?”
“Crossed my mind,” the older man mumbled.
“Let’s hear it.”
“What?” Mr. Lewis gave him a startled stare.
“What?” Regina did the same before glancing at Kane.
“I want to know how he was going to get me back in that coffin,” Kane said with a wicked gleam lurking in the blue of his eyes.
“Well now,” his grandfather allowed as he rubbed the side of his nose, “I’d thought I might give you a hint that I’d finally found a use for this old coffin of mine, maybe whisper real low to you who was in it. Then I’d tiptoe off, go see if Dora has another piece or two of gingerbread in the kitchen or something. Sort of like—well, just about like this.” He eased away as he spoke, then turned and walked quickly from the room.
Kane gave a low laugh and shook his head. Then he stalked to the coffin, climbed up in a quick movement, and shoved Regina unceremoniously to one side as he got in. Reaching for her, he lay back and pulled her into his arms.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked dangerously as she struggled upward again to prop herself on one elbow.
“Finding out how we’ll fit together about, oh, say, seventy or eighty years from now when they bury us side by side.” He lifted his arm to cradle the back of her head, then pulled her elbow from under her and settled her securely against him.
As she shifted a little to find a more comfortable position, she asked, “And what makes you think I might be interested?”
His voice beguiling but rich with satisfaction, he answered, “That, my heart, is a matter of public record.”
So it was. It was useless, then, to deny it.
With some asperity, she said, “You know, it seems to me you have a thing about wooden boxes. First this coffin, then the duck blind.”
“Can I help it if you’re too hard to pin down any other way?”
“You did an excellent job in court,” she returned tartly.
“Witness box,” he said with mock complacency. “When I find a good thing, I run with it.”
She laughed; she couldn’t help it. His body was warm and strong against her. In his hold was security, encompassing peace, and the slow rise of heady promise. It wasn’t easy to remember why she was supposed to doubt his intentions. In something less than complete coherence, she said, “I can’t believe the things you do, and get away with, too. But we can’t stay shut up in a box forever.”
“No, but if I can’t lie with you like this through all eternity, I want to do it the rest of my days. I want to live my life with you, making up every second for all the ways that I’ve hurt you. I want to marry you, to tie you so tightly into my family and this town that you can never get away. I want you to have my children and to love them as you love your Stephan, to let them share your heart with your son as he will share mine. I love you, Regina Dalton, and as strange as it may sound, expect to love you even after we are both long gone and buried. Will you let me?”
It was completely impossible, she found, to stay properly irritated with a man who was proposing such a lasting future together. Still, the thought of his grandmother, who had proven to have a love very similar, drifted through her mind. “Is this preoccupation with graveyards and eternal togetherness some Southern family thing I should know about?”
“Could be,” he answered on the ghost of a laugh. “What do you think?”
“It’s strange, but I believe I just might fit into the program.”
He kissed her, quick and fierce and gloriously. Then he reached up and began to lower the coffin lid.
“What are you doing?” she asked in tingling suspicion.
“Testing,” he said, his voice gravelly in his throat.
She studied his face in the increasing dark just before the latch clicked into place, then asked in last, lingering doubt, “Not testing me?”
“No, love, only possibilities.”
“Of love in the hereafter?”
“Now what,” he growled against her ear as he pulled her closer, “ever gave you such a weird idea?”