A Highlander for Christmas (25 page)

Nicholas watched the man with white hair hand a card to the officer at the outer door. “If you left England now, it might be … misconstrued.”

Maggie stiffened “Misconstrued how?”

“When your father disappeared, a fortune in gems went missing. Some of those gems were on loan from your government, but some were part of a traveling collection taken from the royal family’s own vaults. I think you can understand why there is still a feverish curiosity about where those stones ended up.”

“So it all goes back to the missing jewels. Funny how my father always turns up as the villain.” Maggie rubbed her throbbing forehead. Her shoulder was on fire, and she was drifting into complete exhaustion. “There’s no point in discussing it. I want to go back to my hotel. Or am I still being held for attempted theft of a rusting forklift truck?”

“You’re free.” Jared appeared beside her, his eyes dark and angry. “We both are.”

“I suppose I should be glad for small favors.” Maggie had to fight the urge to brush Jared’s cheek. He looked edgy, his nerves stretched taut.

“Nicholas is right, however.” Jared glanced at Nicholas. “Leaving England now wouldn’t be the wisest idea.”

“What do you mean?”

“Marston is expecting you,” Nicholas said flatly. “It’s the best place for you right now.”

“We’ll leave as soon as she checks out of the hotel.” Jared gave a distracted look at Max, who was once again drooling on his bow tie. “Down, Max.”

Maggie didn’t move. She wasn’t a puppy or a chess piece to be pushed around on a board, no matter how nicely they might arrange it. “You mean back to the abbey?”

Nicholas cleared his throat. “Think it through. Whoever was driving that backhoe is still wandering free. It will be a great deal harder for him to reach you at the abbey.”

Something cold skittered over Maggie’s neck. “Not there.”

“It’s not open for discussion,” Jared said flatly. “I’m taking you back for your clothes, and then we’re leaving.” He looked tired, Maggie thought. Worse than tired. His face was pale and drawn, and he moved restlessly with every breath, as if he was struggling to keep his control.

Maggie started to protest, then gave up. For now she needed to do exactly what they said. Even if going back to those tall granite walls was nearly as frightening as being pursued by a backhoe.

~ ~ ~

“Nice hotel.” Jared studied the plaster dangling from the elevator wall. “Great atmosphere.”

A section of the elevator door was missing, and Maggie watched in sickening fascination as the floors lurched past, inches away. She was nearly dead on her feet, and spurts of color kept blurring her vision.

Jared, on the other hand, seemed more composed and controlled with every passing second. In fact, it was downright galling how good he looked with his evening jacket slung over one shoulder, and Max snoring comfortably in his arms.

Not that she was going to think about Jared MacNeill in any personal sense, Maggie vowed. Things were already too complicated. She didn’t need any additional entanglements.

The elevator rumbled to a halt at the sixth floor, and Jared heaved open the door. The hallway was dark, lit by a single grimy lamp. He eased Max under his arm. “Stay behind me.”

“I’ll do nothing of the sort,” Maggie said. “This isn’t a dark alley, and I highly doubt that a team of wild-eyed assassins is going to jump us between here and my room.” Punchy with exhaustion, she dug in the mud-spattered pocket of her handbag for the room key and stumbled, landing on a shoe that was missing its heel.

“Steady.” Jared grasped her elbow. “Better?”

“Just perfect. Actually, I enjoy being pursued and arrested. All in all, it’s been a fascinating evening.”

His fingers opened over her wrist. “I’m serious. How are you holding up?”

Maggie
blinked, struck by the odd sensation that he was … reading her somehow. At least he was trying to.

Which made about as much sense as the idea that her father was still alive, or that someone had decided to come after her for the missing jewels.

She pulled away and jammed her key into the lock. “There’s nothing wrong that a hot shower and a decent night’s sleep won’t cure.” The door opened with a creak. “In fact, I intend to take care of both just as soon as I—”

She stopped, frozen on the threshold.

One by one, tiny details began to sink in.

Her closet door wasn’t quite closed, and her hairbrush had been moved. The phone directory on her desk was face up, instead of facedown as she’d left it.

Fear gripped her in cold, swift waves. “It can’t be.”

“What is it, Maggie?”

“
The room.
Everything’s wrong. He must have been here, too.”

Jared measured the room quickly, expertly, as if assessing a threat. As he did, he stepped in front of Maggie.

To protect me,
she thought.
Using his own body as a shield. No matter the risk.

“Why do you say everything’s wrong?”

“Someone’s been here.” Maggie swallowed hard. “In my closet. In my clothes.”

He pulled her against his shoulder, and Maggie was glad for the reassuring warmth of his body, even for the sleeping presence of Max.

“Are you certain?” Jared stared at the small room. “Nothing looks out of place to me.”

Maggie closed her hands tightly. “Recognizing patterns is my profession, remember? I happen to have something the experts call spatial memory.”

“Which means?”

“When I see an arrangement of objects, I remember them in perfect detail. Trust me, someone’s been here.”

“Is anything missing?”

“I’ll have to check.”

Jared moved silently in front of her. “Let me have a look at the bathroom first.”

This time Maggie didn’t protest.

He emerged moments later, shaking his head. “No sign of anyone there. What about your clothes?”

A quick check of the warped oak dresser revealed that her stockings were neatly folded, but not in the order she had left them. Anyone else wouldn’t have noticed. She ran a hand over her lingerie and frowned. The lacy camisole had been moved, along with a matching slip.

For a moment she couldn’t speak, swept with panic. She felt trapped, violated by the hands of a stranger. “He—he’s been in here, too.”

“I’ll help you pack,” Jared said grimly. “We’re leaving right now.”

Maggie didn’t argue. Suddenly it didn’t matter
where
she went as long as it was away from this place.

“What about your tools and jewelry materials? You must have some valuable pieces with you.”

She drew a shaky breath. “Not here. I-I didn’t like the look of the clerk on duty.”

“Who, Don Juan with the greasy tie?”

She managed a shaky laugh. “That’s the one. I have a small work case here, but I took all my good stones to a local bank and rented a short-term box. I only kept my wire and a few tools.”

“Good. We’ll collect the rest tomorrow.” He pulled a suitcase from the closet and began slipping clothes from their hangers, while Maggie opened a drawer and tossed a stack of lacy underclothes into the open suitcase.

On top of the stack went her last three pair of stockings. “Chessa will murder me if I ruin all her work.”

“Chessa?” He was nearly done with the closet.

“My cousin. You met her in New York. Fashion image expert extraordinaire.” Her lips curved in a rueful smile. “Whether I like it or not.”

“I wouldn’t think you’d need any assistance with your image.” There was a rough note in his voice. Maggie turned to find Jared staring at her.

Like a man having hungry thoughts.

She cleared her throat. “A compliment? Don’t shake your reputation now. I might faint.” She tried to laugh—and failed.

“I never pretended not to be interested, Maggie. I’m not that good of an actor.”

Heat raced into her face. In spite of her exhaustion, in spite of the night’s pursuit and her recent intruder, she felt a melting sensation somewhere in the pit of her stomach. “What are you trying to say?”

He closed the suitcase with a snap. “I’m simply stating the obvious.” There was a harsh edge to his voice.

“It wasn’t obvious to me.”

“So now you know. Does it bother you?”

“I’ll tell you after I’ve slept for twenty-four hours and I have at least a few brain cells firing again.”

“Sometimes thinking doesn’t help,” Jared said. He put something into her hand. “You dropped this.”

It was one of Chessa’s creations, a long wisp of lace and crepe in a gray-blue shade that matched Maggie’s eyes. Jared studied the fragile fabric. “I’d be seriously appreciative if you wore that for me sometime.”

When she looked into Jared MacNeill’s eyes, something stirred inside her, making her pulse jolt. Maybe what she felt were dreams, newly roused after too many empty years.

They walked outside in silence, Jared gripping her suitcase. A chill wind slashed down the street while the moon shone behind pale, boiling clouds.

Jared turned up Maggie’s collar, then studied the sky. “Do you believe in magic?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

She hunched her shoulders against the cutting wind. “On whether there’s a full moon and whether the air is filled with the scent of roses.”

“Yes on both accounts. The last roses of summer are in bloom in the abbey’s conservatory. They’re said to be the most beautiful of all.”

“In that case, the answer is yes.”

She thought he would chuckle. Instead, his eyes narrowed. Something flared in those twilight depths. “That makes two of us. And since we’re being honest…” Slowly, his hands opened on her shoulders. “I want you, Maggie. I didn’t expect it and I don’t know where it will take us, but you need to know.”

She swallowed hard, suddenly conscious of every move of his body. “Jared, I—”

“Don’t answer. I don’t need an answer.” His hand smoothed her cheek. “At least not yet, I don’t.”

~ ~ ~

Jared drove fast and well, while Max lay dead to the world at Maggie’s feet.

Her pulse skipped as her thigh brushed his beside the gearshift.

Maggie took a long breath.

“Sorry if it’s a tight fit,” Jared muttered.

Maggie didn’t answer. It was intensely seductive to ride with the motor throbbing and the dark miles slipping pass, but she wasn’t going to tell him that.

Their legs brushed again, and she licked suddenly dry lips.

“Hasn’t anyone complained?”

“Only once.” Jared smiled slightly. “She said the gearshift cramped her style.”

Maggie had a sharp image of restless hands and heated limbs. Both left the quick flare of jealousy. “I’m sure you managed in spite of all obstacles,” she said sweetly.

He chuckled. “Jealous?”

“Not a chance, MacNeill.”

“I do like that steel in your voice, Maggie.”

“Sure you do. But you didn’t answer my question. Did you … score? I believe that’s the word you men use?”

His hand curved down over hers. “I don’t use it. And the answer to your question is no. I didn’t. We didn’t. Sometimes trying to get someplace can be a lot more fun than actually arriving.”

Heat arrowed through her chest. More images swept into her mind, sharp and tormenting. Getting someplace with this man would be more than she could handle, Maggie sensed.

He was too smart. Too calm. Too damned self-controlled.

She seemed to be just the opposite.

The challenge slipped from her lips before she knew it. “Maybe you’ve lost your touch?”

He slowed, then pulled into a grassy curve bordered by a high hedgerow. Between them the motor purred. “I’m not clear about the question,” he said roughly. “Is that a question—or an offer?”

Maggie knew. She wanted to see him restless, and confused. Hungry … for
her
. She decided she was entitled, considering he had already made her feel all those things.

“Bad response, MacNeill. You know what they say—if you have to ask, you can’t afford it.”