Jane Austen Cannot Marry! E-Book

May McGoldrick

• Herausgeber: Book Duo Creative
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Seitenzahl: 468

Beschreibung

"POWERFUL AND POIGNANT…I LOVED THIS BOOK." - Jane Porter, NYT Bestselling Author   A FISH-OUT-OF-WATER TIME TRAVEL NOVEL SET IN REGENCY ENGLAND AND THE 21ST CENTURY COLORADO ROCKIES Nadine Finley has made the quantum commute to 1811 to stop Jane Austen from meeting and marrying Captain Charles Gordon. The two of them share a romantic past, and if Nadine fails in her mission, Jane will never get to London. The fledgling author will never get her first book ready for publication. And if the novel is never readied for the presses, Jane will never go back home and revise the manuscript that will eventually become Pride and Prejudice. In short, disaster. The mission instructions were plain and simple: Jane Austen cannot marry. Except...matters become extremely complicated when the Scribe Guardian's own romantic interest unintentionally follows her across the centuries to 1811. Xander Nouri is a tech billionaire who is cheerfully unfamiliar with both history and literature. He has also forged a life where he is insulated from the non-quantifiable uncertainties of feelings and romance. In fact, the only time he let his guard down was for three wildly unexpected days in Las Vegas when he allowed his heart to be fondled and then stomped on by an elusive woman named Nadine. Xander lives in a world of reason, facts, and data…none of which explain her appearance, dressed in period clothing, in a coffin a mile from his secluded mountain home. And her claim of time traveling doesn't exactly compute. It's not long before sparks once again begin to fly between the former lovers. But Nadine needs to get back to her mission before literary history is permanently damaged. By the time she's able to make the quantum leap back in time, Jane Austen and the captain have already met again...and romance is brewing. To complicate matters, Xander has made the trip, as well. And Xander is the unlikeliest 'nerd-out-of-water' ever to land on Regency shores.

Leseprobe

JANE AUSTEN CANNOT MARRY!

MAY MCGOLDRICK

withJAN COFFEY

Book Duo Creative

Thank you for choosing Jane Austen Cannot Marry! In the event that you appreciate this book, please consider sharing the good word(s) by leaving a review, or connect with the authors.

Jane Austen Cannot Marry! Copyright © 2022 by Nikoo and James McGoldrick.

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher: Book Duo Creative LLC.

Cover by Dar Albert, WickedSmartDesigns.com

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Edition Note

Author’s Note

Also by May McGoldrick, Jan Coffey & Nik James

About the Author

“There could have been no two hearts so open, no tastes so similar, no feelings so in unison…”  

JANE AUSTEN, PERSUASION

1

Village of Hythe, on the English Channel

April 12, 1811

Nadine glanced across the cobbled road at the fog hanging like a cloud around the flickering lamp outside the White Hart Tavern. The deep voices of men singing a sea chanty inside spilled out onto the narrow street.

The tavern nestled amid the cluster of shops and homes that lined the High Street. The main thoroughfare ran east and west, and the shoreline lay a quarter mile to the south. The road followed one of the natural terraces of hills that rose steadily to the north, where the land eventually leveled out into farms and pastures all the way to Canterbury. Below the High Street, at the bottom of the hill, a new military canal was nearly finished, and beyond it, fishing huts and small cottages dotted the land along the beach and the edges of a great marsh.

Regardless of its similarity to a thousand other English towns, the village of Hythe was special.

Twice a day, the eastbound coach came through. And it was here in Hythe, four days from now, that Jane Austen would disembark on her way to London. Jane Austen, who was on her way to prepare her first novel, Sense and Sensibility, for publication. Jane Austen, who was destined to have her writing touch generations of people.

Nadine pulled the hood of her cloak tight against the damp chill of the night breeze. The strap of the bag she carried under the cloak was digging into her shoulder, but she didn’t dare adjust it.

“You’re saying that Captain Gordon arrived just before dark?”

“Aye, ma’am. Right before our supper.” The young footman glanced from the coin she’d given him to the tavern door, his destination before she waylaid him.

“How long does he plan to stay?”

“No telling. But he’s on leave, and one of the upstairs maids says the mistress expects him to be at Hythe for a fortnight, at least.”

Nadine was relieved that Gordon had finally arrived. She’d called at Churchill House two days ago and again yesterday, asking for him. Any more visits and she’d risk arousing suspicion.

“Is your mistress expecting any other company this weekend?”

“Not that I know, ma’am.”

“Any planned excursions by the captain…say, for tomorrow?”

“No word on that, ma’am.”

Nadine’s attention shifted to an elderly woman being pulled along by a squat, one-eyed dog. Since arriving in Hythe, she’d seen the pair numerous times. The woman always cast suspicious looks in her direction, and the dog never passed without growling at her and straining at his leash.

She stepped back into the shadows of the building, hoping they’d pass by without noticing her.

“Anything else you’ll be needing, ma’am.”

“No. Thank you. I’ll be calling on your mistress and the captain tomorrow.”

The footman tipped his bicorn hat and crossed the road to the tavern, tossing the coin in the air as he walked.

The muffled sound of church bells tolling nine came out of the fog. Nadine glanced down the road toward the Swan, the coaching inn where she was staying. It was only a few doors away from the tavern, but it might as well have been in Ireland, for what she could make of it through the darkness and the fog. Even the lamp hanging by the arched entry to the inner yard and stables was invisible.

Nadine was tired, but the thought of having to walk past the grim-faced innkeeper and his suspicious glares made her cringe. When she’d taken the room, her smile had been met with a frown. Her pleasant greeting answered with a snarl. And tipping him a few extra coins had made no difference in the hospitality.

Even though providing shelter to strangers was his stock-in-trade, the innkeeper was not exactly hospitable to her, a woman alone. And she’d learned not to ask for a plate to be sent up. The cold meat and fetid greens and stale buns she’d been served the night of her arrival had tested the strength of her stomach.

Nadine adjusted the strap of the bag beneath her cloak. She had one more stop to make before facing the innkeeper and the discomforts of the Swan.

She stepped out of the shadows.

“Who are you?”

Nadine jumped, not realizing that the villager and her dog were waiting for her. It took a moment for her to find her courage and her voice.

“I could ask the same of you. Why are you following me?”

The older woman’s frown was fierce. “You’re not from here, and you talk funny. What’s that accent? Are you a Frenchie?”

“No,” Nadine replied firmly. “I’m just a traveler passing through Hythe.”

She looked down warily at the dog. He was pulling at his lead and baring his teeth only inches from the hem of her cloak.

Animals usually liked her. Strangers generally trusted her, with the innkeeper being one of the few exceptions to the rule. Nadine had often been told she had a warm and friendly demeanor. But she also knew that the British were big on introductions and propriety. A woman, traveling on her own with no male figure or chaperone, was suspicious.

“But you’re not passing through.” The voice rose, and a bony finger pointed accusingly at Nadine’s chest. “You’ve been here since Tuesday, and don’t try to deny it.”

It wasn’t her imagination. The busybody was following her. Nadine thought of the warnings she’d received before arriving in this village. The war with the French was on everyone’s mind, and there had been rumors that an invasion could happen along the coast at any time. Because of that, the locals were fearful, and strangers were suspect.

“Yes, you’re correct. I’ve been here since Tuesday for a family matter.”

“Without your husband?”

The memory of the dark brown eyes of the man who’d asked Nadine to be his wife flashed in her brain. Regardless of how much time went by, Xander was always with her. What had been said and done between them was still alive within her. In some ways, it was as if she’d never walked away. Never left him standing at the altar.

“You are married, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Then, where is he?”

Nadine wished Xander would simply show up. But that was an impossible dream.

“My husband’s not with me.”

“Where is he?”

“He is in London. He’ll soon join me.”

“Your children?”

A lump grew in her throat. A normal, healthy woman in a loving relationship could dream of such things. A child. A future. Not her.

“Well, out with it? Where are your children?”

“I have none.”

“You’re old enough to have a dozen.”

If the woman only knew Nadine’s real age. Centuries separated her future birth from today’s date. In a biological sense, though, she was thirty-five.

“What’s your name? Introduce yourself at once.”

“My name is Nadine Finley. And you are?”

“Elizabeth Hole. Daughter of the late James Hole, a fishmonger with premises right here in the High Street. My mother was a Lydd. And they were both born in Hythe, as were their parents and every generation back to the day of the Conqueror. Not that I need to be telling you this, but St Leonard’s, up there…?” She waved a hand up the hill. “I was christened in that church, not a dozen steps from where my family’s bones are stored in the ossuary. So, I’m from here, and there are no Finleys living in Hythe. In short, Miss Finley—or whoever you are—you’re lying.”

That was quite an introduction. She was tempted to do the same thing. She could certainly fabricate an ancestry to satisfy this inquisitor.

The dog gave a sharp bark and a growl. Nadine sent a guarded look at the snarling animal, wondering if those sharp teeth were about to clamp onto her leg.

“I didn’t say I was visiting my own family.” She took a step back. “And I’ll thank you to keep your little Cyclops away from my ankle.”

“Never mind about Kai.” She picked up the dog and tucked him under her arm. “Why are you here? Explain yourself and be quick about it.”

Nadine wasn’t about to tell Elizabeth Hole her business. She certainly wasn’t going to mention Captain Gordon or the Honorable Margaret Deedes, the sister he was visiting. If this one went running up to Churchill House, the plans could be ruined. The last thing Nadine needed was to have the captain refuse to speak with her.

“You are correct that I arrived on Tuesday. And it is my intention to leave on the coach Saturday...or at the latest on Monday.” She hoped sooner. She didn’t want to cut it too close, and Monday would be cutting it close. “So, if you’ll pardon me…”

Nadine stepped around the shrew. Almost simultaneously, the door of the tavern opened, and three uniformed coast guardsmen staggered out. The trio, clearly drunk, linked arms and marched unsteadily off into the darkness, singing as they went.

Nadine followed, listening to the low growling recede behind her. When she was a few doors down from the White Hart, she looked over her shoulder and was relieved to see the woman and her canine companion had disappeared. Elizabeth Hole had apparently given up the chase for tonight, but Nadine was certain that wasn’t the last she’d be seeing of her.

Keeping to the shadows and walking quickly, she passed the Swan and then turned down the hill. In a few moments, she reached the canal and crossed the new bridge. Down here, the fog was thicker, and the smell of salt air and fish mixed with woodsmoke. None of the tradesmen’s shops were open, given the hour, and only a few of the cottages she passed showed a light in the windows.

The darkness and stillness were a bit unnerving. Nadine preferred cities to villages and the countryside. Safety in numbers. Situations like this always left her with the acid taste of vulnerability in her mouth. But where she was sent and what assignment she was given had never been her choice to make.

And she’d had some very unsavory assignments. Russia in 1917, as the Bolshevik revolutionaries stormed the Winter Palace. Egypt in 48 BC, as Caesar’s troops burned Alexandria and the great library there. The Yucatan in 1562, as Spanish priests and soldiers destroyed Mayan books.

But she always succeeded in finishing the task she was given. She had to. This was her life, the path she’d been forced to take.

She moved along the rutted road that led toward the shoreline. The silence of the neighborhood was broken only once by the sound of men laughing and quarreling outside a public house down one of the side streets.

Nadine judged, from the directions she’d received, that she was getting close to her destination. She turned her head at the sound of footsteps behind her. She could see nothing through the fog. To be safe, she slipped into the deep shadows beside a shack and waited.

Her hand slid inside the bag, and her fingers wrapped around the weapon she carried. It was small, lipstick-sized, but it was powerful enough to stun a good-sized man.

Seconds ticked by. The footsteps stopped a few doors up. A low cough. She heard mud being scraped from the soles of boots. A knock, a murmured greeting from a man, and a woman’s voice asking him in. A moment later, the door closed, leaving Nadine alone once more.

She stepped out of the shadows and continued down the lane. Another turn and she spied her destination.

The place was little more than a black blur of walls and thatched roof, huddled between a low hill and a neighbor’s cottage. Nadine made her way stealthily through a large kitchen garden filled with rows of seedlings. Through a gap in the shutters of a window, Nadine could make out the flickering light from a fireplace. Deirdre was up late.

She went to the door and knocked softly.

The sound of footsteps inside was followed by an uncertain voice. “Who is it?”

“It’s Nadine.”

The door opened, and the young woman peered outside toward the lane before pulling her in and closing the door. “I can’t believe it. You’re here.”

“I told you I’d come.”

Nadine glanced past her for the person she’d come to see. Deirdre’s son, Andrew.

Across the room, the toddler was sleeping on the bed he shared with his mother.

“How is he doing?”

“Been sleeping soundly since supper. And that’s a blessing.”

“Coughing?”

“None tonight.”

“Fever?”

“He had a good appetite, and his face is cool to my touch.”

Relieved, Nadine looked around her. The cottage was small, but snug enough against the early spring chill. Above the fire, a pot hung from a long arm. A steaming kettle sat on the hearthstones. Near the fireplace, a cloth was draped over a tray of bread loaves that were rising. A variety of herbs were strung together, hanging down from the low rafters.

A table with three chairs sat by the shuttered window, and plates and cups were arranged neatly on shelves above a sideboard. A large pile of sewing had been stacked on a small cot. A wardrobe, a low wooden chest, a washstand, and the bed where Andrew slept comprised the rest of the cottage’s furnishings.

Deirdre covered the window with a blanket. “They were here, looking for you. I was afraid they’d already found you.”

“Who was here?”

“The coast guardsmen.”

“Why? What did they say?”

“They wanted to know about the stranger…the woman with the French accent who was seen at the market the other day, asking questions.”

Damn. She’d arrived in Hythe on Tuesday, the town’s market day. And she had spoken to a few vendors, trying to find her bearings.

“I don’t have a French accent,” Nadine said defensively, knowing the authorities were on the lookout for Napoleon’s spies.

“Well, you talk different.”

“I don’t. I speak English. The same as you.”

“No, you don’t. You talk different.”

She could stand there all night and argue. But what was the point? Compared to the locals, she did have an accent. But it definitely wasn’t French.

“What did you tell them?”

She shrugged. “That I saw you at the market, but not since.”

“Why did they come here?”

“Someone saw us talking, I suppose.” Deirdre shook her head. “Hythe is a village. People are on the lookout. Ears are pressed against the walls. Everyone knows everyone else’s business. I’ve lived here my whole life, but my mother had Irish blood. So, I’ve been the center of attention since my husband left. And far more than I like, let me tell you.”

Deirdre’s husband had been hauled off by a press gang to ‘volunteer’ in the British fleet eight months ago, and she hadn’t heard from him since.

At the market, Nadine had only struck up a conversation with Deirdre because of Andrew. Walking along the stalls, she’d felt a tug on her skirt and looked down to find a youngster, perhaps two or three years of age, staring up at her. Red hair, the face of a cherub, and a head that seemed too big for the small, thin body.

“Lost,” he’d said to her.

“Are you lost?” Nadine had asked.

“No. You.”

She’d crouched down, and the boy’s green eyes locked with hers. The intensity of the stare was unsettling. It was like he saw through her, knew she didn’t belong in that marketplace, in that period.

“Who do you belong to?” she’d asked. “Where are your parents?”

He cupped her face with small hands, and that’s when she noticed he was feverish, burning.

“Here you are. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” A woman appeared and lifted the boy into her arms. He started coughing. He couldn’t catch his breath.

Shaking herself free of the memory, Nadine’s eyes focused on the sleeping form of the toddler. “Can I listen to him breathe? Are you sure there’s no fever?”

“See for yourself.” Deirdre motioned to her son.

Walking toward him, Nadine smiled at the red hair standing up straight as porcupine needles on the pillow. He looked pale in the flickering firelight. Even so, she could hear no more wheezing when she put her ear to his chest.

Deirdre stood beside her. “Your magic potion worked.”

“Not magic,” Nadine replied, a bit sharper than she intended. She didn’t know whether they were still burning witches in Hythe. “Only medicine.”

“Better medicine than anything I’ve ever seen.” Deirdre sat on the edge of the bed and tucked the blanket around her son. “My mother-in-law brought the doctor here yesterday, still thinking my Andrew was fighting to breathe. He was going to bleed my poor lad.”

“What did you do?”

“I told them my prayers had been answered. That he was mending. I sent them away.”

“You did the right thing.”

“I know I did. I have a good sense of these things. For people too. I know who to trust and not to trust. I trusted you, didn’t I?”

Andrew had trusted her first. He’d been the one who found her. Got her attention.

Nadine recalled her conversation with Deirdre at the market. She’d asked about Andrew’s symptoms and how long he’d been suffering from them. Deirdre had asked suspiciously if Nadine had some training with a doctor.

—Some. And better training than the doctors in this village.

—I don’t trust them at all. I lost Andrew’s older brother to the same cough when he was a wee babe.

—I can help him. Will you trust me?

After a dozen more questions, the woman had decided that Nadine would not give her son anything that would hurt him or make his condition worse.

“His lungs seem clear.”

“I did as you said. Whenever he gets coughing, I put the drops you gave me into a bowl with the boiling water and hold his head over the steam. It works right away.”

Nadine put a hand on the boy’s forehead to check for the fever herself. It was cool.

“I told you. He’s cool to my touch. But I finished the pills you gave me.”

Nadine pulled back her cloak. Reaching into the leather bag that hung from her shoulder, she drew out a small round tin and handed it to Deirdre.

“This is the rest of what I have. Give it to him twice a day. Morning and night.”

The mother took the tin. “What happens after? Will the fever come back?”

“Not right away. Maybe never. The cough might come back, but you know what to do if it does. And he might outgrow it. Some people do.” And some don’t, regardless of medical advances.

Nadine glanced around the cottage, counting a dozen things that could be the trigger for the child’s asthma attacks. She’d lied when she said she had some medical training. She was no doctor. Her knowledge came from personal experience. The supplies she carried were for her own use, in case of an emergency. Her asthma was stress induced and she still had her inhaler in her bag and that was enough.

She pressed her hand to Andrew’s forehead one more time. The boy smiled in his sleep and murmured something. Emotions welled up inside Nadine, and she wondered if she’d ever see him or his mother again. She’d lost count of all the people, like these two—like Xander—that she’d had to walk away from in her life.

“I need to be going.”

Deirdre put her hand on Nadine’s arm. “When are you leaving Hythe?”

“Hopefully, as soon as tomorrow, if I can convince Captain Gordon to escort me to Portsmouth.” She’d given herself until Monday, she told herself for the hundredth time, but that was absolutely the latest.

“He’s come to the village?”

“Yes, he arrived today.”

Deirdre glanced at her child and back at Nadine. “Will you ever come back?”

“I really don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not.” The two stood and headed for the door. “By the way, do you know an elderly woman named Elizabeth Hole?”

“Everyone knows her. And she makes it her business to know everyone in Hythe.” Deirdre pretended to shudder. “Don’t tell me you’ve crossed her?”

“No, but she’s also made it her business to follow me.”

“That’s not good. Not good at all. She’s trouble. A nuisance of a woman. I’d keep my distance from her if I were you.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“And I’d do the same in dealing with the coast guard. They won’t deal kindly with you once they hear your French accent.”

“It’s not…” Nadine stopped, realizing she was being teased.

“Whatever you say.” The woman smiled and the two hugged. “I don’t know where you came from, Nadine Finley. But I thank the Lord that our paths crossed.”

“Good luck to you, Deirdre.” She cast one last look at the sleeping child. “Give Andrew a hug for me.”

Slipping out of the cottage, she went up the lane in the direction of the coaching inn. Her plans for the next few days were tentative, at best. The simplest solution would be for the captain to believe her story and leave with her for the navy town of Portsmouth. She shook her head in the darkness. If they didn’t go right away, however, so many complications could arise.

When Nadine reached the canal, she spotted a pair of armed coast guardsmen patrolling the far bank. They didn’t appear to be on high alert, though. As they strolled along the canal, one of them was keeping the other entertained with some story. Still, she waited until the fog and darkness had swallowed them up before she hurried across the bridge and climbed the hill toward the High Street.

She reached the corner, stopped, and drew back a step. Directly in front of the Swan, an agitated Elizabeth Hole was bending the ear of a well-dressed gentleman and two tired-looking coast guardsmen. Whatever she was saying, she halted abruptly when her little dog swung around and began barking and snarling in Nadine’s direction.

Damn that mutt.

“That’s her. It must be.”

As they all turned to look, Nadine spun on her heel and went back down the hill. Reaching the corner of the first building, she turned into the alley behind it.

Shouts and the sound of running followed her. She considered her options, which were few. She couldn’t afford to be caught and questioned by the authorities. She had to evade them at all costs.

Her heart pounded in her chest. Her breath was getting heavy.

The alley was pitch black, and Nadine’s shoulder scraped a wall as the lane doglegged slightly. Staying on her feet, she hurried along. The sound of Kai’s barking was getting closer. They were right behind her and coming hard.

Ahead, a faint light from an upper-story window brightened the way enough for her to realize she’d come to a dead end. There was no way out.

“Damn it.”

On her right, the back door to a shop was flanked by stacks of wood planks. She darted toward them and tried the door. No luck. Barred on the inside.

Her chest tightened some more. She was beginning to wheeze. She was horrified to think she was about to deal with a full-blown asthma attack.

Her pursuers were getting closer. Looking around her, Nadine spied three long wooden boxes leaning on an angle against the back wall of the shop.

Not just boxes, she realized. Coffins.

“There’s no way out of this alley.” Elizabeth Hole’s voice rang out over the others. “She has nowhere to go. Arrest her!”

Nadine lifted the lid of one of the coffins. Covering her mouth to hush a cough, she stepped into the box and pulled the lid shut.

2

Elkhorn, Colorado

April 12, 2022

Visibility was zero.

The heavy snow Xander had driven through after leaving Denver late this afternoon was history, at least for the moment. It was a barrage of sleet that now battered the pickup, and the gusting wind was strong enough to knock over an eighteen-wheeler. The wipers were icing up badly, and the blasting heat couldn’t keep the windshield from fogging.

As Xander leaned forward to clear a spot to see through, a bolt of lightning split the darkening sky just ahead.

Spring in the Rockies. Gotta love it.

“Still there?” Ken’s voice crackled through the speaker on the steering wheel. The cell reception along this stretch was always shaky, and the storm wasn’t helping any.

“Yeah. Give me a minute.”

After a year of living up on this mountain, Xander knew the curve ahead was a dangerous one. The service road had only an eyelash of a shoulder, having been carved out of a ledge of rock two miles high.

He eased up on the gas pedal, but not enough. The gut-tightening slide across the pavement was the last thing he wanted right now. He steered into the skid, aware of the drop beyond the invisible river churning through the deep gorge below. If he hit the brakes, they wouldn’t find his picked-over carcass until July or August.

“Come on, baby. Grab. Grab. Grab.”

For what felt like an eternity, he continued to slide closer to the edge. Finally, the tires hit the narrow, graveled shoulder, lurched and found some traction.

“Did I lose you?”

“Almost.” He glanced out his window at the swirling clouds beyond the ledge. “I’m still here.”

“Donna is saying I shouldn’t be chirping at you while you’re driving.”

“Your wife is right.”

“Well, maybe. But she’s also delusional enough to think you’ll call us back.”

“I’ll call you back.”

“When? Next week? You’ve already ignored three texts and two voicemails.”

That was true. Xander had ignored them. He knew what they were about. But there was no point admitting it to Ken.

“I’ve been out straight in Denver. One meeting after the other. Come over for a beer, and I’ll tell you about it.”

“Not tonight. This storm could get bad.”

“Oh? No kidding?” Xander considered stopping and knocking the ice off his wipers.

“Don’t hang up. We’re not done talking about Saturday.”

“Saturday? What’s Saturday?”

“Don’t joke. I need you, buddy.”

For a baby shower. Ken and his wife Donna wanted him to tend the bar at their house while two dozen women ‘oohed and ahhed’ over diapers and miniature clothing. No thanks.

“You don’t need me. You can handle it fine by yourself.”

“I can’t manage the barbecue and the bar at the same time.”

“Barbecue in April? What happens if it snows?”

“She’s put up with being pregnant for all these months, so I get her what she wants.” Ken’s voice softened, and Xander knew his friend was really talking to his wife.

“As well you should.”

“Glad you agree. Most of Donna’s friends like their booze. I need your help. We need your help.”

Xander knew perfectly well what was going on. Donna was matchmaking. Lately, she’d been searching high and low for the right girlfriend-preferably-wife candidate for him. He had no doubt their last-minute ‘Oh, the bartender canceled on us’ line had nothing to do with a shortage of help and everything to do with Donna’s plotting.

“I’ll find you a bartender.” Xander figured he could stop at any bar in Elkhorn, put a big enough tip on the table, and someone would jump at doing the four-hour job.

“I don’t want you to find us a bartender. I want you here.”

“What’s Donna up to?”

“Nothing. This was my idea.”

“Baby shower.” Xander snorted. “You’re throwing a baby shower for your wife and her girlfriends. Her single, available girlfriends, I’m guessing.”

“Don’t be paranoid.” Long pause. “Why are you surprised that the people closest to you actually care about you and want you around? We want you to be part of the important moments in our life.”

He knew what was coming next. Ken was about to pull the ‘best friend’ card.

“Is it too much to ask a favor of my best friend?”

“There it is, you fucker.”

Xander and Ken grew up together, went to college together, started a company together, made their first million together, and almost got married the same weekend. A couple of years ago. In Vegas. Since then, Ken’s marriage to Donna had been solid. Xander’s marriage remained in the ‘almost’ category. He almost got married.

Then, everything changed for him and for the world.

Six months later, with the Covid pandemic wreaking havoc across the world, they sold their company, packed their bags, and left New York. Ken and Donna settled in a neighborhood of large, beautiful homes on the outskirts of Elkhorn, Colorado, a former silver boom town at the foot of this very mountain. Xander had wanted a view and, more importantly, he wanted privacy. So, he bought some land and a house up near a peak the locals called Devil’s Claw.

Ken was happy with marriage and retirement. Aside from learning to fish and ski, he was even starting to dabble with writing fiction.

Xander, on the other hand, was restless. He’d already begun looking for involvement in another start-up.

“Nice way to talk to a highly sensitive and probably hormonal father-to-be. Not only am I your best friend, I’m also your only friend. And even that’s a little iffy.”

Xander scoffed, but it was pretty much true.

“Seriously, you’re family. We want you to be part of the day.”

Ken was cornering him at a vulnerable moment. The four-day conference at the convention center and the hotel had left him bone tired. And the two-hour drive from Denver had taken him five hours due to the weather and an accident on the state highway. And this icy road wasn’t helping.

Neither he nor Ken had any siblings. They’d been like brothers since childhood. They were family.

An array of lightning exploded brilliantly across the sky, and then the frozen rain began to fall even harder.

“Are you still thinking?”

“Trying. If you’d shut up.”

As he slowed the vehicle to a crawl, Xander thought of what his friend was asking him to do. Other than patching the now snow-and-ice-covered roof of the tumbledown garage, he had nothing going on this weekend. And if the weather kept up like this, he might not want to work outdoors, anyway.

Hell, being charming and pouring mimosas and mixing a Bloody Mary or two was certainly no trouble. And Xander also knew how to say no when he wanted to. He’d been doing a lot of that lately. He wasn’t ready for a relationship. Not a serious one. Especially not with one of Donna’s friends.

He cracked his window to help the defroster clear at least some of the icy smear from the windshield. The sleet sounded like machine gun fire on the roof and windows. He considered pulling over and waiting out the worst of the storm. But with his luck, he’d probably take a direct hit from one of these lightning strikes. Crazy, lightning in a winter storm. Who knew?

“Say something. I need to know you aren’t plunging down the side of that mountain right now. ’Cuz then I’ll really have to find another bartender.”

“Fine. I’ll do it. I’ll come to the baby shower. But you’ll owe me.”

“You bet, bro. I’ll be the best man at your wedding. I’ll be the bartender at your wife’s baby shower. I’ll be⁠—”

Xander punched the button to end the call. He didn’t want to think about weddings and babies. He had no desire to dwell on how, at age thirty-eight, the only time he’d been tempted to tie the knot was with a woman that he’d met only three days before. The same one who skipped the wedding and disappeared while Xander stood like a fool in front of an Elvis impersonator with Ken and Donna ready to serve as witnesses.

She stood him up.

Stood. Him. Up.

Sex was easy. Relationships were complicated. And marriage? She hadn’t even known him long enough to realize that he was a workaholic. And that he sucked at relationships.

Well, something caused her to wise up.

A blast of wind shook the pickup. Trying to keep his hands relaxed on the wheel, he forced himself to think about the offer he had on the table in Denver. Another project. Another business.

This time, he didn’t have to put any of his own money down. The tech investors and the trio of engineers wanted him to run the operation as CEO. They were offering Xander a partnership because of his reputation for handling pressure. He’d taken an idea to market before and cashed in big time. He’d turned coal into diamonds, figuratively speaking.

He told them he’d get back to them.

Was he ready to come out of retirement already? Was he that bored?

A hard gust of sleet swept across the gleaming pavement. Xander flashed on his high beams and saw the reflection of the eyes. Immediately, a massive shape loomed in the car’s path.

He slowed the truck to a crawl.

An elk the size of the Statue of Liberty was right in the middle of the road. It just stood there, gazing at him. The animal had a chest like a Clydesdale. Its neck was covered with a thick mane of dark fur. And the beast had a rack of antlers at least six feet wide, splaying out in all directions like spiders’ legs.

“Jeez,” Xander breathed, a thrill coursing down his spine.

He stopped the vehicle.

“Hello, big fellow.”

Never in his life had he seen anything as magnificent as this.

“Nice to finally meet you.”

At the outfitter’s store down in Elkhorn, the locals had been arguing about a legendary giant elk. A few fellows claimed to have seen him. They called him the ‘Spider Bull’ because of the spread of the antlers. Hunters had been searching him out for years, but the elk was too smart for them. One skeptic grouched that the animal was nothing more than a myth that the guides had invented to sell hunting trips.

“And yet, here you are. King of the Mountain.”

Xander sat transfixed, feeling his heart pounding in his chest. He had no intention of shortening this moment.

“And don’t you worry. I won’t say a word to anybody about seeing you up here.”

The elk turned and faced the pickup. The sleet, mixed with snow, glistened on the animal’s broad muzzle.

The two of them gazed at each other.

“I can do this all night. How about you?”

The elk pawed at the icy pavement.

Fingers of lightning streaked across the sky, and Xander saw something in the road beyond the animal.

“What’ve you got there?”

Suddenly, the elk raised his head and let out a noise like Xander had never heard before. It started off like a low growl and rose in pitch and intensity, deep and resonant.

“Holy...” He froze when the elk took a step toward the pickup.

For an electrifying moment, Xander thought he was going to charge. Then, with an unhurried air, the animal turned and walked slowly off the road. When he reached the tree line, he leaped effortlessly up the hill and disappeared into the night.

“Wow,” Xander murmured. His heart was pounding like a steel drum in a subway.

He’d spent most of his adult life in crowded New York City and its environs. He’d never lived anywhere far from the sounds of traffic and people. And yet, here he was, surrounded by acres of wilderness so remote and rugged that one could travel much of it only on foot or horseback.

Ken and Donna gave him a hard time for becoming such a hermit, but since settling here, Xander loved losing himself for a day or a week amid these mountain forests and peaks, where the only signs of people were the trail, the random signpost, and maybe the odd shack or abandoned mine. Living here, he’d gained a new sense of the world and his place in it, along with a new appreciation for soft beds and working toilets.

He stared up the hill where the Spider Bull had disappeared. Taking another deep breath, he gave his pulse time to slow. This was one special moment.

Lightning flashed again, illuminating the night. Xander put the vehicle in drive, pulled up closer, and stared. Rocks and ice had tumbled down the hillside onto the pavement, partially obstructing his path. But that wasn’t the problem.

Directly ahead of him, a wooden box lay diagonally across the road, blocking the way.

“What the hell?”

He studied the thing. About two feet high, two feet across, and six feet long.

Man, if that box didn’t look like a coffin.

3

Leaning on the steering wheel, he stared at the box that was keeping him from a hot shower, a warm bed, and ten solid hours of sleep.

“You don’t belong there.”

Other than Xander and the occasional lost tourist, the service road was used mostly by the Forest Service. A week ago, during a hike into the State Forest, he’d come upon a ranger directing a group of volunteers who were starting to dismantle an old mining cabin. They’d dated the log structure to the gold rush days of the 1850s or 60s.

Hard living was the first thing that came to Xander’s mind when he saw that abandoned cabin. No indoor plumbing and no electricity. Just a dirt floor and gaps in the walls that wouldn’t have done much to keep a person from freezing during the long, cold Colorado winters.

They planned to preserve as much of the cabin as possible, truck it down to Elkhorn along this road, and piece it back together.

“To protect a relic of Colorado history.” That was how one of the volunteers put it.

Xander had paid very little attention to history growing up. In fact, he’d ignored it as much as he could. The same went for literature. The only reading he was drawn to involved some puzzle or game. He was a left-brain person. Analytical. A math guy. That was who he was, and he was perfectly comfortable with it.

His almost wife-to-be had been the complete opposite.

Even though their time together had been brief, he’d learned that she loved books. Novels. Poetry. She couldn’t understand how it was that he couldn’t name a single book he’d read in the past year. Past two years. Five years.

Then he’d given her a lecture on the importance of numbers.

Math wasn’t subjective. Every question had a clear answer. You were either right or wrong. There were no gray areas. Empirical evidence was supreme.

Xander recalled telling her, “Data is king. Imagine the number of problems that could be prevented if everything was based on objective data rather than emotions.”

She showed him how she felt about his opinion. She left him standing in the chapel with his ‘data’ swinging in the breeze.

The arcing windshield wipers scattered the memories, and he focused on the coffin-shaped box that had been dumped on the road. Whoever lost it was probably home right now, sitting in front of a warm fire.

“Let’s go, Xander,” he muttered. “Nobody’s going to move that thing for you.”

Pulling on his coat and hat, he stepped out of the truck. The freezing rain stung his face. The wind blasted him sideways as he approached. He definitely could see it falling off the back of one of the preservation group’s trucks.

With all the close attention they’d been giving to every possible artifact in that cabin, someone would be looking for this crate sooner or later. All he had to do was to push it to the side of the road and they’d come back for it.

Another bolt of lightning exploded overhead, and the sleet changed to hail in an instant.

Xander stopped in his tracks. Marbled-sized balls of ice pounded him.

The box was hexagonal. It was a damn coffin. Hail bounced off the top of it.

He approached tentatively. New wood. Unstained. But still, the possibility of old bones rattling around in there made him cringe.

Just then, a few basketball-sized boulders and a yard of gravel and ice came avalanching down onto the edge of the road, firing up his pulse rate again.

“Okay, let’s do this before we get buried here.”

He positioned himself at one end of the coffin. Heaving and shoving at the same time, he got it moving. Wood scraped on wet tar as he swung one end closer to the shoulder. He straightened up and started for the other end, but stopped dead and jumped back a step. Something moved inside.

“What the…”

The hackles on his neck rose as three sharp knocks came from inside the casket. Then a few more.

He stared at the box in disbelief as the top lifted an inch. It wasn’t nailed down!

So many horror movies started just like this, immediately followed by a character doing something stupid and becoming Victim Number One.

A coffin in the middle of nowhere. There was something inside, trying to get out. What do you do?

Get the hell out of here.

The top lifted again, but instead of sprinting for his car, Xander suddenly found himself sitting on the box, holding the top down.

Not what he’d planned.

“Great. Now what, genius?”

Taking the phone out of his pocket, he checked for cell service. Not one fucking bar. He glanced at his truck. The windshield wipers were slapping back and forth double time.

The hail had turned to sleet again, but it was coming down just as hard. If he could make it back to the pickup, it would be ridiculous—never mind dangerous—to turn around and go all the way down the mountain to Elkhorn.

He felt some thumping against his butt through the wood and glanced down at the box. There had to be some perfectly reasonable explanation for this situation. Hell, it could be an animal in there. Right, some animal had crawled into a casket in the middle of nowhere and then pulled a heavy top over itself. Okay, maybe not that.

But maybe someone had put an animal in there and…

“Help!” A woman’s voice.

So much for that theory.

Xander stood up, yanked the top off, and tossed it to the side.

He stood frozen for a moment, unable to believe his eyes. It was a woman, and she was struggling. As soon as the lid was off, she sat up, coughing violently, and trying like hell to catch her breath.

“What…? How…? What are you doing in there? How did you get here?”

Her focus was on her next breath and not on his questions. The headlights gleamed off her dark hair, which was braided and pinned on top of her head. He crouched down, trying to think of how he could help her.

Her body was shaking from the raspy bark of her coughing. She was taking in the air but couldn’t expel it. He recognized the problem. The wheezing between the ragged breaths was a giveaway.

“You’re having an asthma attack. Do you have an inhaler?”

She nodded and her fingers grabbed for the edges of the box. He took her by the elbow and helped her to her feet.

His body was blocking the truck’s headlights, and she stood in his shadow. He could see she was wearing a heavy woolen cloak over what appeared to be a period dress. Xander wondered if she was part of a reenactment group. Or maybe someone was shooting a movie up here. He’d seen The Revenant. He knew they made movies in all kinds of conditions.

But how did she end up in this predicament?

Struggling with a button at her throat, she finally managed to unfasten the cloak. He caught it as she whipped it off her shoulders. The freezing rain began to soak her dress. A leather bag hung from her shoulder, but her fingers couldn’t get it open. The racking coughs sounded painful, and she was beginning to wobble a little.

“Let me help you.”

She peeled the bag off her shoulder and handed it to him.

The bag was handmade, of the same antique style as the dress. No sooner had he undone the tie at the top than she snatched it away from him and shoved her hand into the bag, rummaging around.

“I know what an inhaler looks like,” he told her. “Maybe I can find it for you.”

As the hail turned back into freezing rain, she turned her back to Xander and bent over her precious bag, still coughing and wheezing.

He shook his head. “You know, there’s nothing in there that I’d want.”

She ignored him and kept searching. All he could do was wait.

His mother suffered from asthma. He recalled a few midnight trips to the emergency room, his father driving like a maniac, and Xander looking on helplessly from the back seat of the family car.

Well, whoever she was and however she’d ended up in this situation, he wasn’t about to leave her here. He figured his plans for tonight had just been revised. Storm or no storm, he needed to get her down to Elkhorn. Someone had to be looking for her.

A couple of things fell out of the bag into the box she was still standing in. She paid no attention to them, still searching for her medicine. From what he could hear, she was really struggling to breathe. Xander felt the urge to breathe for her.

“I know what you’re dealing with,” he told her. “We’re over ten thousand feet above the sea level. Your oxygen level is dropping. Let me help you find the inhaler.”

As he reached for the bag, she pulled a small object out and brought it to her mouth. She took a couple of quick breaths.

The dispenser was much more compact than the inhalers his mother had lying around the house. And it seemed to work faster. She coughed once, and then her breathing immediately began to slow down and clear.

Her face remained in his shadow as she stuffed the dispenser back into the bag.

“I have to get the name of that medicine. I was sure we’d be racing down this mountain to get you to a hospital.”

She looked up quickly, and the bag slipped out of her hands into the casket.

“Do you have any cell reception?” he asked. “I don’t have any here. You probably want to get hold of someone and let them know you’re safe.”

She wasn’t responding. Just staring. Maybe she was in shock. Maybe she had a concussion from when the casket hit the pavement.

He stepped to the side to let the headlights shine on her face. He wanted to get a better look at her.

Words, questions, his entire train of thought escaped him in an instant.

No. It wasn’t possible. He had to be imagining this.

The large brown eyes were fixed on his face. “Xander?”

Standing there, dressed in some period custom with the freezing rain streaming down her face, was his almost wife.

“Nadine? Nadine Finley?”

4

One day, she was there.

The next, she wasn’t.

After she disappeared, Xander went crazy trying to find her. With every passing hour, he’d grown more and more sick with worry.

None of it made sense. There was no reservation under her name at the hotel, despite what she’d told him about where she was staying. No ‘Nadine Finley’ that looked familiar showed up in his Internet and social media searches. Some eyewitnesses had seen the two of them together, but no one could offer anything about where she’d come from or where she’d gone.

Nadine told him she’d come to Vegas for a bachelorette party for a girlfriend. But in the three days they were together, Xander never saw any friends. Not that there was an opportunity. They had spent almost every minute together. He’d barely thought about it at the time. But when she was gone, he had no other names to trace.

He was worried enough that he’d gone to the cops to file a missing person report.

—My girlfriend of three days has disappeared.

—I don’t think she gave me her real name.

—She also lied about being from Philadelphia.

—I suspect she may not have been completely honest about her job and her family too. At least, I can’t confirm any of what she told me.

—No, I don’t have a picture of her. She said she didn’t like having pictures taken.

—No, I didn’t give her access to my credit cards.

Their final response, You’re in Vegas, pal.

A waste of time.

Xander wiped the rain off his face and stared at the woman shivering in front of him.

“Are you real?”

As she took the cloak from him, her fingers brushed against his. They were ice cold. She pulled the woolen garment around her shoulders. “What do you think?”

“What are you doing here?” He pointed to the coffin. “In this?”

She glanced around her at the road and the dark, wooded hills. It was as if she were seeing it for the first time.

“You disappear from Vegas, and then I find you here in Colorado. What’s going on?”

She climbed out of the casket, walked unsteadily to the ledge, looked down, and quickly stepped back. He remembered she was afraid of heights. At least, that was what she’d told him.

As she came back to him, his gaze fixed on the droplets of rain glistening on her face. The cheekbones, the eyes, the nose. Classic beauty. She didn’t look any different than when he last saw her.

“Nadine,” he said sharply, trying to get her attention.

Her eyes returned to his.

“Is that even your real name?”

“Of course, it is. I wouldn’t lie to you about my name.”

“Really? You lied to me about everything else.”

“Could we not have this conversation right now? It would be nice to get out of this miserable weather.”

He stared at her. Their personal history aside, what had just happened was mindboggling. If it weren’t for the elk, Xander wouldn’t have slowed down and probably would have hit that box. She’d have been crushed under his tires. Or the box, with Nadine in it, would have tumbled down the side of the mountain.

He shook off the morbid thought.

For the life of him, he couldn’t fathom why she, or anyone, would climb into a coffin. And how did she end up on this road? His mind raced through a few scenarios.

Someone could have put her in that box...but they didn’t nail down the top.

She could have been drugged and put in there...but she was standing here, clear-eyed.

Maybe she did climb in of her own volition, but for what reason? And as screwy as that sounded, wouldn’t she try to get out when the box fell off the truck?

No vehicle had passed him going in the direction of the state road and Elkhorn. That meant she had to be lying there for a while. Unless the truck had been heading up the mountain, but he hadn’t seen any…

“Xander?”

Her voice brought him around. She was standing there, shivering. She was soaked, and the cloak wasn’t enough to keep her warm.

“Can we get out of here, please?”

“Where do you want to go?”

“Wherever you’re going.”

* * *

Xander wasn’t much of a gambler. He didn’t like the house advantage casinos had over players. He didn’t go to Vegas for fun. He was there for two reasons. A three-day tech conference. And Ken and Donna were coming at the end of the week to tie the knot. He was supposed to stand up as best man.

He remembered the day he met Nadine like it was yesterday.

The penny slots were as much of a contribution he was willing to make to the Luxor Casino. The two dollars and fifty-five cents he’d lost so far wasn’t making much of a dent in the hundred-dollar chip the conference welcoming committee had put in each gift bag. Having registered a couple of hours ago, Xander was killing time until they opened the Meet-and-Greet cocktail hour. With one eye on the video poker game he was playing and the other on the registration desk, he was considering stretching his legs and wandering out by the pool.

He spotted her the first time she walked past him. It was her eyes and mouth that caught his attention. She had the look of that gorgeous Iranian actress from Body of Lies. Golshifteh Farahani. Her face turned heads. Then he realized she was dressed for the ski slopes, not the desert. Winter coat, winter hat, boots, and gloves. But he brushed off her choice of clothes. After all, it was February, and people descended on Vegas from all over the country. He watched her disappear across the crowded gaming room.

Ten minutes later, she came into his line of vision again. The hat and gloves were off. The winter coat was tucked under one arm. She stopped to ask directions from someone who worked at the casino. This time, as she passed, their eyes met. Was it his imagination or had her gaze lingered for a moment? Damn, but she was beautiful.

He didn’t believe in instant attraction. At least, it had never happened to him. And he wasn’t about chasing women, either. Because of his money or his looks, they usually came on to him. But as she moved past Xander, he found himself hoping that they were there for the same conference.

The third time, he was watching for her. And then, there she was, moving through the crowd. He grabbed his jacket and stood up.

She stopped near him and shifted the coat from one arm to the other.

“Need help?” he asked.

“This place is a damn puzzle. I’ve stopped and asked directions a dozen times, but they just send me around in circles.” She motioned to the security fixtures on the ceiling. “I think those bastards up there are having fun watching me do laps.”

“Maybe I can help.” He grabbed a cocktail napkin off the nearest table and proceeded to draw a map. “You’re here. These are the elevators you just passed…and the exit doors to the Strip are here.”