“I was heading to the Pickled Pig when I saw you go into the station,” Edwin said when Jane reached the end of the path. “Has Mr. Poindexter been found?”
Jane was assaulted by such a tumult of emotions that she could barely speak. Outrage battled with humiliation and she found that she was unable to look Edwin in the face. She experienced another sensation as well—a knife-twist ache deep in her chest. She was familiar with the pain and recognized it for what it was. Grief. She was mourning the loss of something that wasn’t even real. The thought of Edwin’s deception allowed her simmering anger to take control, but she masked her feelings and met his gaze straight on.
Looking into his dark eyes, she tightened her grip on the hampers and said, “Mr. Poindexter is no longer missing. I discovered his body late last night. The news will sweep through the village by lunchtime, so there’s no harm in telling you.” Glancing down Main Street, which was just starting to show signs of activity, she started forward. “I’d better go. Storyton Hall is probably in a state of chaos.”
Edwin grabbed her arm. “Let me help you.”
Jane wanted to slap his hand away. Instead, she shook her head. “You can’t. My plan to entrap the murderer will only succeed if the killer feels safe. Any unusual component, such as your presence, could jeopardize my chance of bringing an end to a week tainted by violence and deceit.”
Jane wondered if the latter word would elicit a reaction from Edwin, but he merely stared at her with a worried expression. Brushing a strand of hair off her cheek, he let his fingertips linger on her cold skin. And then, he dropped his hand and something in his expression shifted. “Just know that I’d do anything for you,” he said. “Call, and I’ll come running.”
So you can poke around Storyton Hall when I’m too busy dealing with a murderer to notice? Jane thought, her ire rising.
“I have to go,” she repeated and twisted free of his grasp. As she hurried to the Rolls, she could feel his gaze on her back. Once, the thought of him watching her would have flooded her body with warmth. But no longer. Gooseflesh erupted on her arms and neck.
“Tell me one thing,” Edwin called after her. “The card that came with your Valentine’s Day flowers. Did you open it?”
Jane thought of the bouquet of red poppies she’d left at the reception desk. She’d never bothered to read the card.
After opening the car door, she turned to face him. “Not yet. I’ve been too preoccupied with murder to concentrate on romance.” And with that, she slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine.
As she drove off, Jane glanced at her rearview mirror. Edwin stood alone on the sidewalk, staring at the Rolls. Even when he was no longer visible, Jane could feel him thinking about her.
Approaching Broken Arm Bend, she recalled a line from a German poet named Heinrich Heine. “‘Oh, what lies lurk in kisses,’” she quoted angrily and then sighed. “I’ll miss Edwin Alcott’s kiss. We only shared one, but it was unforgettable.”
Back at Storyton Hall, Sterling was waiting for her in the garage. His face was drawn with fatigue.
“Did you get any sleep?” Jane asked him.
He shrugged. “I’m fine. More importantly, I know where Ms. Birch spent the night. Seeing as the man is one of my drivers, I thought I should tell you myself.”
“Ms. Birch was with a staff member?” Jane couldn’t hide her astonishment. She assumed that Taylor, an attractive young woman in a hotel filled with older matrons, would try to seduce one of the male cover models. Not only that, but Storyton Hall employees knew that fraternizing with a guest would lead to immediate dismissal. With the exception of the housekeepers or members of the waitstaff delivering room service, employees were not permitted to enter a guest’s room. And they were strictly forbidden to invite guests back to one of the tiny staff cottages spread across Storyton’s grounds.
“Who is this person and where is he now?” Jane demanded.
“Glenn. He’s our newest driver and has been an excellent addition to our team. Until now.” Sterling frowned. “He’s in the staff kitchen. It’s best that you speak with him there. If you make an appearance in any of our public areas, you’ll be swarmed by hysterical guests.”
Jane shut her eyes for a moment. “Is it that bad?”
“Your aunt and uncle are managing the situation, but a number of guests have expressed their desire to check out.”
The sense of urgency Jane felt last night returned full force. “While I’m speaking with Glenn, please find Lily Jamison and bring her to the kitchens.”
As they walked from the garage to the main house, Jane shared her plan. It was met with Sterling’s approval and he promised to pass along the details to the rest of the Fins.
In the staff kitchen, Jane found Glenn sitting at the scrubbed wood table. His shoulders were slumped and his gaze was fixed on his folded hands.
When Jane entered, he bolted to his feet. “Ma’am, I’m so sorry! I had no idea—”
“Sit,” Jane commanded tersely. “When did Ms. Birch first make overtures toward you?”
Glenn blinked. “Overtures?” And then, comprehension dawned on his face. “No, no, it wasn’t like that. I drove her into the village yesterday. On the way, she told me she was scared of being alone in Storyton Hall. She believed that the man who’d gone missing, Mr. Poindexter, would come after her the first chance he could. She was headed to the hardware store to buy a can of pepper spray. We’d just crossed the bridge when I explained that none of our shops sold pepper spray. That’s when she started to cry.”
Jane studied Glenn. He was reed-thin with a kind, homely face and couldn’t be a day over twenty-five.
No wonder he was moved by Taylor’s performance, Jane thought with a touch of sympathy.
“What happened next?” she asked.
“I didn’t know what to do, so I pulled into the Cheshire Cat lot to see if Ms. Birch needed some fresh air. When she tried to get out of the car, she fainted. Luckily, I was able to catch her.” Glenn’s eyes went glassy as he was swept up by the memory.
Jane nodded. “Lucky indeed. Go on.”
“When she came to, she begged me to sit with her until she felt better. I would never have done that except I was worried she might faint again. She didn’t look right, ma’am. She was awfully pale.” He raised his hands in a show of helplessness. “She talked for a long time and I listened. She said she was desperate for a place to sleep that night—a place where Mr. Poindexter couldn’t find her. I told her to speak with the sheriff, but she said she had to stay silent to protect an innocent person.”
What a load of crap, Jane thought, but made an encouraging noise.
“I told her she could stay at my place,” Glenn said and then hurriedly added, “alone. I’d bunk with another staff member.” He looked at Jane with a plaintive expression. “I didn’t think I was doing anything bad, so I promised to show Ms. Birch to my cottage before the ball ended. I’d let her in, and she’d leave the key under the mat the next morning.”
Jane’s gears were turning swiftly. “What time did you escort her to your cottage?”
“Ten thirty or so. We used a staff corridor so no one would see us together.” Glenn’s cheeks reddened. “I thought I was doing the right thing, even though I was breaking the rules.”
Jane made a noncommittal noise. “Do you remember what she was wearing?”
“Her dress was dark blue. And she wore long gloves.”
“Did she have a cloak?”
“Yes, ma’am. She wore a dark cloak with a hood. I thought she’d freeze to death walking to my place. I unlocked my door and she went inside. She put one of our plastic laundry bags on the sofa—I guess she brought a change of clothes—and said good night. When I went back this morning, she was gone. No note or anything.” Jane heard the disappointment in Glenn’s voice. He’d rescued the damsel in distress and had nothing to show for it. In fact, he expected to lose his job as a result.
Jane put a hand on Glenn’s shoulder. “You made several poor decisions, but you did so out of kindness. I’d like to give you another chance to prove that you’re worthy of wearing Storyton’s blue and gold.”
“I’ll do anything, ma’am!”
“Good,” Jane said. “Listen closely.”
* * *
After making sure that Glenn was primed for his minor role in her plan, Jane invited Lily Jamison into the staff kitchen. Over cups of rooibos tea, she told Lily why they needed to take Taylor Birch down. And then she explained how this could be accomplished. As Jane spoke, Lily’s expression went from shock to horror to indignation.
Jane finished by saying, “Her fate is in your hands, Ms. Jamison. Are you willing to sit next to a murderer, lie to her, and trick her into incriminating herself?”
Lily was silent for a long moment. “Yes. I want her to be punished for what she did. Not only did she commit murder to get ahead, but she also robbed the world of a talented storyteller. Even if Rosamund York was a partnership between Nigel and a woman named Rosie Yates, the books they created gave people hours and hours of reading pleasure. The sudden end of those stories is a great loss.” She raised her cup. “Count me in.”
She and Jane clinked rims, finished their tea, and then parted ways.
Jane took the staff passageway to the Isak Dinesen Safari Room, where she found Sinclair and Lachlan rearranging furniture.
“I believe this will work,” Sinclair told Jane with a twinkle of pride.
He and Lachlan unfolded a black lacquered screen painted to resemble a scene from an Ancient Egyptian tomb. A pharaoh stood in the bow of a skiff, ready to spear one of the fish or waterfowl clustered around his boat. The screen, which was nine feet tall, completely obscured a side table and two chairs when unfolded.
To complete the tableau, Lachlan moved a large potted fern from the other corner of the room and placed it in front of the screen. Sinclair positioned a tilt-top table next to the plant and stacked a pile of Egyptian-themed books on its surface. Both men were satisfied with the results.
“Sheriff Evans has arrived,” Sinclair said after glancing at his phone. “Mr. Butterworth is bringing him in through the staff entrance. He’ll be in the public hallway for a few minutes, but Glenn has already pulled Ms. Birch aside. He’s playing his part by promising to get her out of Storyton Hall after lunch.”
“Mr. Sterling is searching Glenn’s cottage for traces of Ms. Birch’s cloak and gloves, and I thought I’d offer my assistance,” Lachlan said to Jane. “Unless you need me here.”
Jane shook her head. “Sinclair and Butterworth will be more than happy to intercede should Ms. Birch made a run for it. The sheriff’s deputies will also be in cruisers out back, waiting on the sheriff’s orders. Finding that cloak is crucial, so search as quickly and meticulously as you can.”
Lachlan made to leave, but Jane stepped in front of him. “Later, after Ms. Birch is safely in the sheriff’s custody, I’d like to know why you’re receiving shipments of frozen chicks.”
Though Lachlan’s composure never faltered, a shadow flitted across his handsome face. “Fair enough, Miss Jane,” he murmured deferentially and left.
At that moment, Sheriff Evans entered the Safari Room. He glanced at the African tribal masks, Aboriginal shields, mounted animal heads, and primitive weaponry decorating the walls. His gaze traveled over the zebra-print chairs and leather sofas to the massive fireplace.
“Now, this is my kind of room,” he declared appreciatively. “A place where a man might read the sports page in peace.”
Despite her nervousness, Jane smiled. The room certainly had a masculine appeal. It smelled pleasantly of aftershave and wood smoke as countless men had visited the space to play cards or savor glasses of brandy after dinner. Few women chose to read in the Safari Room. Like Jane, most of them felt uncomfortable around hunting trophies.
“Our stakeout location.” Jane gestured at the lacquer screen.
Sheriff Evans peered behind the screen and nodded in approval. “Clever.”
He and Jane took their seats. The sheriff sat closest to the gap between the screen and the bookcase, ready to spring into action should Taylor threaten Lily’s person. Sinclair closed the gap by repositioning the screen and left the room.
Sheriff Evans placed a recording device on the table. He pressed the record button and gave Jane a thumbs-up sign.
Jane managed a nervous nod and laced her clammy hands together. In a few minutes, Lily and Taylor would enter the room. If all went well, Sheriff Evans would leave Storyton Hall with a murderer in custody. But theirs was a game of chance. Anything could go wrong.
The room filled with the steady ticking of the grandfather clock on the opposite wall and, much more faintly, the noise of guests moving up and down the hallway. Amid these soft sounds, Jane wouldn’t be surprised if Sheriff Evans could hear the pounding of her anxious heart.
Someone entered the room and sat in one of the zebra-print chairs on the other side of the screen. Lily Jamison cleared her throat and whispered, “Are you ready?”
“Yes,” Jane whispered back.
There was a distinct rustle of a newspaper and Jane imagined Lily doing her best to appear captivated by an article on the skyrocketing costs of snow removal or highlights of the week’s basketball games.
“Ms. Jamison?” Taylor’s voice floated across the room from the threshold.
Lily’s chair creaked softly as she shifted her weight. “Yes. Come join me.”
Jane held her breath as Taylor crossed the hemp rug.
“It’s such a pleasure to meet you,” Taylor said. “Ms. York spoke so highly of everyone at Heartfire, and since I handled a great deal of her communication, I feel like I already know you.”
“Heartfire is a great place to work,” Lily said brightly. “I love my job. I get to read some of the best books in the business, travel to incredible places, and spend evenings dancing with male cover models. My coworkers are like family and I never get tired of calling an author to congratulate her on a new publication, for winning an award, or making a bestseller list.” She paused for breath. “As you said, you handled much of Ms. York’s communication. You probably knew her better than any of us, so forgive me for asking, but I have to know if Rosamund had any work in progress saved on her computer or in a desk drawer at home. Outlines, unfinished manuscripts, ideas for future series. Anything.”
“I think she did,” Taylor said carefully.
Lily shifted in her seat again. “I realize it seems terribly insensitive of me to be asking, but my job is to help produce fabulous novels and to get those novels into the hands of hungry readers. It’s very rewarding when a Heartfire author acquires a large following. And Rosamund’s following is huge, as you well know. I imagine you served as Rosamund’s voice and were responsible for managing her fan mail and social media presence. Am I right?”
“I actually did much more than that. I also helped Ms. York with plot ideas and served as a beta reader. She valued my feedback and used all of my recommendations.”
“Is that so?” Lily sounded impressed. “That’s great to hear. This might be premature, because I don’t even know if you’re interested in a career in publishing, but do you think you could complete any of Rosamund’s unfinished projects? You’ve already been her voice in many ways.”
Jane expected Taylor to leap at the chance, but the young woman was wily. “Would I be considered an author-for-hire or an employee of Heartfire? Because I’d prefer to join the team. My skill set could be useful to a publishing house. Having worked for Ms. York, I already have editing and marketing experience.”
“Hm.” Lily fell silent and Jane pictured her furrowing her brows in mock consideration. “I’m afraid I can’t offer you a position without proof that you have something to bring to the table. Heartfire has over a hundred applicants for the opening on our editorial staff. The only way you could rise above the more experienced candidates would be to net us a sure winner. A Rosamund York novel.”
Now it was Taylor’s turn for silent contemplation. “I could e-mail you when I get home. Ms. York had a number of projects going, and I have several on my desktop. We were, well, I guess I don’t have to keep it a secret anymore, but Rosamund and I were collaborating on the next Venus Dares book.”
“How marvelous!” Lily clapped her hands in excitement. “The fate of that novel is in your hands, Ms. Birch. I expect the next Heartfire team member will be hired by the end of today. That someone could be you. If you could give me something concrete, I’d make a call to the powers-that-be. You could be in New York by Monday, starting a whole new chapter in your life.” She laughed. “I know that phrase is a cliché, but I think it’s fair to use book-related clichés in our line of work, don’t you?”
Brilliant, Jane thought. You’re already making Taylor feel included.
“I . . .” Taylor trailed off. “So let me get this straight. If I show you Rosamund’s files, you’ll guarantee me a job at Heartfire?”
“In a word, yes. I can change your life today, Ms. Birch.”
Taylor exhaled slowly, as though she suddenly realized that her wildest dreams were about to come true. “I could go to New York. I could be in publishing.” Jane could hear the lift in Taylor’s voice. She’d fallen for Lily’s ruse. However, she still had to fetch Nigel’s computer in order for Jane’s plan to succeed. “I have just what you’re looking for on my laptop,” Taylor said after another a painful hesitation. “I forgot that I had copies of Ms. York’s files with me. Do you mind waiting while I get my computer?”
“Not at all. It’ll give me the chance to finish this article about Rosamund.” Lily shook the paper. “They’re saying she ingested castor seeds, which are poisonous, but I’m not buying it. A person would have to eat dozens for them to be fatal.”
“Actually, it would only take four. They’re extremely potent if chewed,” Taylor said in a confident tone.
“Really? I had no idea.” There was a smile in Lily’s voice as she said, “Smart and talented. I’m going to like working with you.”
Jane listened to the sound of Taylor’s hurried steps and met the sheriff’s eyes. He put his fingers to his lips, but Jane saw a smile playing about the corners of his mouth. He was clearly pleased with Lily’s work thus far.
No one spoke for a full minute. Finally, Lily whispered, “How am I doing?”
“You’d make an excellent spy, Ms. Jamison.” The sheriff leaned over his recording device and, satisfied that it was functioning properly, patted his gun holster. “Just don’t push Ms. Birch too far. If she killed Mr. Poindexter in a fit of rage, she’s just as likely to strike out at you if she sees through this charade.”
“I feel like the heroine in a Linda Howard or Sandra Brown novel,” Lily said. “But I’d better get back to my fake reading. She could walk in at any second.”
They didn’t have to wait long. When Taylor returned, she was breathing hard. She practically ran to the chair she’d recently occupied.
“I can show you the outline for the next Venus Dares book,” Taylor said, sounding like a young girl in her excitement. “I came up with the title. What do you think of The Shameless Sovereign? In this installment, Venus Dares tangles with a king.”
“Splendid!” Lily exclaimed and Jane didn’t think her enthusiasm was feigned. “Readers will love it. Can you show me the file?”
Hearing the soft clicks of Taylor’s nails striking computer keys, Jane wanted to jump up and cheer. Nigel’s missing laptop was in the room. Taylor had taken it from Nigel after hitting him on the back of the head. Her possession of the computer, along with the castor seed in her room, gave Sheriff Evans cause to arrest her on suspicion of murder.
Jane wished she could see Taylor’s face when the sheriff appeared from behind the screen. After all, the young woman had murdered at least one person in the name of ambition. Not only that, but she’d done her best to ruin Storyton Hall’s first romance convention. Jane had never been so eager to see a person apprehended.
Suddenly, Lily gasped and Jane focused on the conversation on the other side of the screen again. “This is a complete outline for The Shameless Sovereign. Did Rosamund start the manuscript? Please tell me that she wrote a few chapters.”
“The book is two-thirds done,” Taylor said. “I can have the novel completely finished by the end of June.”
“If not, we can always hire another author. You’ll still get the credit for acquiring the next Venus Dares novel,” Lily assured Taylor. “Are there more outlines?”
“Two. The Playful Prince and The Reckless Regent.”
“You have a treasure trove on your laptop. May I?” Lily asked and then let out a little cry. “It’s cold to the touch. Where were you keeping it?”
“I had to hide it. After what happened to Mr. Poindexter, I didn’t want to take any chances. People would kill to get their hands on these files.”
Lily murmured in agreement. “When we’re finished here, I should help you get Rosamund’s things together. Though she and her mother weren’t close, her mother should have her effects. Especially any jewelry or custom-made dresses. Did Rosamund order one of those stunning hooded cloaks?”
“I . . . I don’t remember.”
“Well, I’ll ask Ms. Steward for a key to the Romance and Roses suite. Of course, the sheriff might not let me in. Do you have a key?”
“Yes, but . . .”
Lily didn’t give her a chance to finish. “Oh, here’s a synopsis for the next Eros book. And what’s this? A list of proposed changes for Eros Steals the Bride.” There was a short silence before Lily said, “I don’t understand. This was written after Rosamund’s death.”
“I wrote that,” Taylor lied. “I’m sorry to say this, but when I saw how badly the advanced reader copy was received by the fans, I decided to make suggestions on how to fix the book.”
“I admire your initiative,” Lily said. “What’s this file?”
“Please don’t open anything else!” Taylor cried sharply. “I have copies of some of Ms. York’s personal files and I wouldn’t feel right letting others see them. She wouldn’t have liked that. She was a very private person.”
Lily was quick to apologize. “I didn’t mean to intrude. May I take a moment to read through the recommendations you made concerning Eros Steals the Bride?”
Taylor must have given some kind of wordless permission because the room was slowly enveloped in a gentle silence—the kind that surrounds an intent reader.
As the minutes passed, Jane focused on keeping still, but when she heard the rustle of the newspaper again, she abruptly stiffened. If Taylor scanned that paper, she wouldn’t find an article mentioning castor beans and she’d know that Lily had been lying to her.
Across the table, Sheriff Evans shot Jane an alarmed glance. Clearly, he’d been thinking the same thing.
“This is excellent, Taylor. I can’t wait to show this to the Heartfire team,” Lily said. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to use your e-mail program to forward this to my . . .” she trailed off. “Why are all the e-mails in this Inbox addressed to Nigel Poindexter?”
“Give me that!” Taylor snapped and Jane assumed she’d made a grab for the laptop. What followed were the grunts and scuffles indicating a struggle and Sheriff Evans leapt to his feet, his gun drawn.
He left his hiding place behind the screen just as a woman’s terrified shriek pierced the air.
“Don’t move, Sheriff,” Taylor said in a near-growl. “I’ll cut her, I swear it. She tricked me. She lied to my face!”
There was another whimper and Jane could imagine the tip of a blade digging into the tender flesh of Lily’s throat.
“Put the knife down, Ms. Birch. It’s over.” The sheriff sounded remarkably calm. “If you hurt a hair on Ms. Jamison’s head, you’ll only make things harder for yourself.”
Taylor laughed a shrill, maniacal laugh. “Harder? What do I have to lose? Everything I’ve done this week—all the risks I’ve taken—it’s all for nothing!”
“It sounds like you were a strong candidate to enter the publishing field because of your experience working with Ms. York,” Sheriff Evans said. “Why did you feel it was necessary to break the law?”
“Because I didn’t want to wait anymore. I spent months being treated like a servant by that woman and she didn’t even write the books!” Taylor shouted. “Do you know how I found out? I was supposed to be doing one of my millions of menial tasks—this time, it was unpacking Rosamund’s bags—when I heard her cell phone buzz. Her highness was in the bathroom, so I read all the texts Nigel had sent over the past few days. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, but it sank in quickly enough.”
“And you decided to act on your discovery,” Sheriff Evans said.
Taylor grunted. “That’s for damned sure. I took Nigel aside soon after he arrived at Storyton and threatened to expose him if he didn’t pay me. The loser didn’t have any money, but he told me how he planned to get it from Rosamund.”
There was a soft “Please” from Lily and Taylor muttered a low, angry reply that Jane couldn’t hear.
“I demanded to see the castor beans, so he brought some to my room. Since I knew how he added them into the truffles, it was no trouble for me to squeeze in a few more. Rosamund predictably threw a tantrum after her lunch with Nigel, so I suggested she rest while I got her a soothing cup of tea. I went back to my room, chopped up the extra castor seeds Nigel had given me, and added them to the truffles. They didn’t look that great, but I pretended that I’d put them too close to the hot teapot. Rosamund didn’t care. She ate every piece, gorging on that poisoned chocolate like the spoiled brat she was.”
Nigel told the truth, Jane thought, aghast. He used just enough castor seeds to make Rosamund sick. Taylor added the lethal dose.
“Showing mercy to Ms. Jamison could go a long way when it comes time for your sentencing,” the sheriff said. His heavy tread on the carpet indicated that he’d moved forward by several paces.
“Stop right there!” Taylor’s voice was a dangerous snarl. “Look at me, Sheriff. I will cut her. See?” A whimper of pain echoed across the room. Jane longed to lash out at Taylor, but there was little she could do from behind the screen.
“Put your gun down or I’ll do it again,” Taylor said.
There was a soft thud as the sheriff laid his gun on the rug.
Jane surveyed her little corner of the room. She needed a weapon. Fortunately, the bookcase behind her was full of them. Unfortunately, most were African antiques. Jane didn’t think the Boa sword or curved Ngala knife would be of much use. And even if she could wriggle the Ngbandi spear out of its case without alerting Taylor, she’d never used one before. She had no experience with the throwing blades either. Feeling frantic, her gaze fell on a plaque reading, “Bow and Arrow of the Chokwe.”
Jane opened the cabinet door as carefully and quietly as possible and removed the bow and solitary arrow from the display. She froze when the bow scraped against the glass cabinet door, but Taylor starting shouting something at Lily and Jane feared that Taylor was heading for the hall.
Jane tested the tension of the bowstring. It felt nothing like the bow she used on the Robin Hood Range, but when she nocked the arrow and pulled back on the string, she believed there was enough resistance to release the arrow with force.
She had one arrow. One chance to stop Taylor Birch. If Taylor left Storyton Hall with Lily Jamison as her hostage, there was no telling what would happen. Jane wouldn’t stand for that. She needed to rescue Lily and ensure that Taylor was brought to justice.
With the bowstring grazing her right cheek and her left arm stretched straight, Jane stepped out from behind the screen and quickly took in the scene.
Sheriff Evans stood off to her right, his hands raised in surrender. Taylor was nearly at the door. She held a steak knife against the side of Lily’s neck, and a thin trickle of blood ran down from a wound beneath Lily’s ear. Lily’s eyes were glassy with terror.
Jane quieted her mind. She focused her energy on the bow in her left hand and the nocked arrow in her right. She inhaled once, fixing her gaze on her target. All sound faded. She didn’t hear Taylor speak or notice Sheriff Evans motioning at her. She exhaled through parted lips and let the arrow fly.
Time crawled. The seconds stretched out like yarn on a loom, and the arrow seemed to be traveling underwater. Suddenly, its point punctured the soft flesh just above Taylor’s armpit. She jerked and dropped the knife. Lily broke free from Taylor’s grasp, grabbed the knife, and ducked behind the closest sofa.
Jane lowered the bow and looked at Sheriff Evans. He’d scooped his gun off the floor and was pointing it at Taylor.
As for Taylor, she couldn’t stop staring at the arrow protruding from her shoulder. Finally, she groaned like a wounded animal and slid to the floor, landing on her rear with a thud.
While the sheriff called for backup, Jane rushed to where Lily was huddled.
Jane grabbed a wad of tissues from the box on a nearby table and gently wiped the blood off Lily’s neck. Thankfully, it was a shallow cut and would heal cleanly.
“Are you all right?” Jane asked softly.
Lily nodded. Her wan face was starting to regain some color.
“You were incredible,” Jane said.
“Me?” Lily shook her head in disbelief. “You were incredible. You were just like Venus Dares in The Bold Baron. There’s a scene where she shoots the baron’s uncle with an arrow because he’s about to push a scullery maid off the roof.” Lily managed a wobbly smile. “I never met a heroine like the ones I encounter in Heartfire novels. Until now. You did it, Jane. You saved the day.”
“We saved the day,” Jane said. She stood up and offered Lily her hand.
After Lily rose unsteadily to her feet, she and Jane embraced. They wept and laughed, relieved that the ordeal was over. And then they hugged once more, clinging to each other like long lost friends.