Authors: Karyn Gerrard
Reed continued. “It was not a priority as we all believed you could not father children. I tell you this for you may at some time want to be tested yourself to be absolutely sure. In case you…with a woman…” Reed cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the subject matter. “Blast it, I should have told you soon after Glenna died.”
Yes, he should have. It made Luke wonder what else Reed had not told him. As far as women were concerned, Luke managed during the past eleven years to limit his carnal activity to ladies of the night, where in darkness they could not see him and he did not have to look at them. Along with his increased strength and enhanced senses, his libido also ran at a high level. Mired in grief, he fought back his urges for several years.
But not lately.
A good thing he used sheaths under the circumstances. He did so to stem any chance of catching a disease. Even though he may be immune, why take chances?
No use losing his temper at this stage. There had been so many unknowns through the years he could hardly blame Glenna or Reed. Though despite their long, complicated friendship, a small part of Luke still did not entirely trust Reed. “I see.” What else could he say? “What other surprises will I find in your notes?”
At that moment Clara entered the room, carrying a tray laden with tea, mugs, and a plate of cheese and biscuits, and Reed looked relieved at the interruption. Luke jumped to his feet and took the tray from Clara’s shaking hands and placed it on the table. Though Luke could not ascertain most changes in temperature, he suddenly realized the parlor was far too chilly. Damn and blast, he should have brought them coal as well as food. “Isn’t there a woman who comes every morning to light your fires and prepare you both breakfast?”
Clara frowned as she poured the tea. “Yes, but she hasn’t been here the last two days. I went to her house to inquire as I was concerned she might be ill. The place is closed up tight. Perhaps they went to the country. She did speak of relatives in Sussex.”
“You should have called Fred or me,” he admonished gently. Though most of February had been mild, a couple of nights dropped near zero.
“You are both far too busy,” Clara stated, waving her hand in dismissal.
Luke slipped out of his suit coat and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. He had a fire blazing in the hearth in a manner of minutes. Taking the mug of hot tea, he sat down and watched as Clara lovingly fussed around Reed, ensuring he had plenty of cheese and biscuits and the blanket across his legs was tucked in tight. She then grabbed her mug and took her seat on the other side of her husband. “When Fred arrives, we will light the fire in your bedroom as well,” Luke stated.
No sooner had he spoke his nephew’s name, when Fred knocked and strode into the parlor. Clara tried to stand, but Fred bade her to stay seated, leaned in and kissed her cheek, then did the same with Reed. After pouring himself a mug of tea and grabbing a slice of cheese, he sat on the sofa next to his mother. “All together again, yeah?” He smiled.
Fred possessed an outwardly sunny nature, but could turn serious enough when warranted. At five-feet-eleven, he was as broad-shouldered and solid as his father had been, and his features, though not classically handsome, were pleasing enough. Luke knew Fred often kept company with various ladies through the years, but nothing serious ever came from the brief dalliances. With his rich sable brown hair and light brown eyes, he had the look of a Parker. He could have been Glenna’s son for all their similarities. Another roll of pain moved through him. Luke reluctantly pushed her from his thoughts as he fought to keep tight control of his grief. “I want to be buried in Charlwood,” Reed said suddenly. That certainly ended all conversation.
“Dad…”
“Three generations of Parkers lived in the area and it should be my final resting place. Your mother’s too, when the time comes. You will see it done?”
“Of course,” Fred replied, his voice soft.
“Next to Glenna’s stone,” Reed insisted.
So much for not thinking of Glenna. Luke had never been to her grave. What did it matter? Her body was not there. She’d been swept out to sea because of his incompetence. He made a fist with his gloved left hand, and the leather creaked in response.
“It is not your fault,” Clara stated.
No doubt every emotion tearing though him reflected on his face. It always did. He was not a man to hide how he felt. “I could not save her. This hand that is not my own could not hold on to her.”
A strangled sob left Reed’s throat, and Clara rushed to his side. “Stop. Both of you. It is no one’s fault. An act of nature.” She kissed Reed’s forehead. “It is nothing you did, Reed, nor you, Luke.” Soon after Clara married Reed, she was informed of the experiment and Luke’s part in it. A family secret they all kept close to the vest.
The despair on the older man’s face was plain to see and he understood it. Reed blamed himself for reanimating him and for replacing his severed hand. If Luke had remained buried and forgotten, Glenna would still be alive. In all these long eleven years, no one in the family blamed him and he was grateful.
“I should have this thing removed. I would be better off with a damned hook or a wooden hand. Anything but this,” Luke spat. Before he was reanimated, Reed used the hand from another corpse and stitched it in place of the one he lost during the carriage accident. It was a horrible lump of flesh he kept covered at all times. Thankfully, there were no other body parts replaced. Bad enough he felt as if he were Frankenstein’s monster at various times since his reanimation. He certainly did not want to look the part. At least, no more than he looked now. Luke exhaled. “Forgive me. I usually do not sink into such morbid self-pity. Not lately, anyhow.”
Fred nodded. “If you cannot share your deepest feelings with family, who can you share them with?”
“True. Apparently the grief still lingers. Perhaps it always will. Reed, your wishes will be carried out, have no fear. Let us move on to other topics.” He filled Fred in on the hired woman not showing up.
“Well, that is dashed inconvenient. No fear, Mum. I’ll find someone else as soon as possible. Next time, you ring up one of us.”
Clara sat on the sofa. “Luke brought us some of his rations.”
“I have no need of them.” In Luke’s new life state, he did not need food to survive. At times he ate for the enjoyment of it and always made sure when in the presence of strangers to make an effort to act as normal as possible, which included the ingestion of food.
“War keeping you busy, Son?” Reed asked, seemingly recovered from his emotional outburst. The doctor told them the sudden change in his emotions was the result of his old age. “They won’t be sending you across enemy lines?”
“No, Dad. Don’t worry. I am not a field operative as such. Agents work under me. As far as I am aware, I’ll be staying at fifty-four Broadway for the foreseeable future.” Fred stood. “I shouldn’t have even said that much. Now, excuse us a moment, Luke and I will get the fire going in the bedroom.”
Reed nodded. “Don’t worry, this family already has many well-kept secrets.”
Luke followed Fred into the room and closed the door behind him. With a tsk, Fred ran his finger along the mantel, frowning at the thick blot of dust on the tip. “I may have to find someone to live-in. Mum would never have let the housekeeping deteriorate like this before.”
“Perhaps we should move them back to Charlwood,” Luke suggested.
Fred shook his head. “Can’t be done. Dad is too weak to be moved. I already asked the doctor if such a relocation was possible. He advised against it.” He leaned down and placed newspaper and sticks of wood on the grate. “I have a new assignment. We’ve heard chatter that the identity of a female agent may be compromised. She was undercover in Germany from nineteen thirty-eight until early nineteen forty. The lady is back in London and works at fifty-four Broadway in an administrative capacity. This brave woman barely escaped with her life, and I would not see her harmed. I will need you to assess the situation. I’ll tell you more once we leave here.” Fred scooped up some coal from the nearby bucket and laid it on the wood and paper. “I have it on good authority Simpson’s-in-the-Strand just received an order of mutton from Scotland. I suggest when we are done here, we stop by for an early dinner and I can fill you in on the particulars.”
Luke lit a piece of rolled up newsprint and held it to the wood and paper until the flame caught. A lady spy. An uneasy feeling spread through him, but not in a bad way, which concerned him. Tangling himself with a female, whether it was in a professional capacity or not, was not part of his plan.
Karyn Gerrard
lives in a small town in the western corner of Ontario, Canada. She whiles away her spare time writing and reading romance while drinking copious amounts of Earl Grey tea. A multi—published author with a few best sellers under her belt, Karyn loves to write historicals, particularly ones set in the Victorian era. Tortured heroes are a must. She also writes the occasional contemporary.
As long as she can avoid being hit by a runaway moose in her wilderness paradise she assumes everything is golden. Karyn’s been happily married for a long time to her own hero. His encouragement keeps her moving forward. Visit the author at www.karyngerrard.com, find her on Facebook, and follow her on Twitter.