A Highlander for Christmas (37 page)

But searches still took time.

Jared sat back slowly. He was tired of playing cat and mouse. The fastest plan would be to lure Maggie’s pursuers out into the open at a time and place of Jared’s choosing. Nicholas had already made some suggestions, but all of them left questions about Maggie’s level of safety. Among the possibilities was an invitation-only auction of czarist amber coming up in Paris. If Nicholas made certain that Maggie’s presence was well publicized, Jared was certain her pursuer would wrangle an invitation, too.

And until then?

Jared rubbed the knot of tension at his neck. Until then everyone going in and out of the abbey would be personally screened and approved by him. Every delivery would be checked and Maggie would stay under observation and protection at all times.

Even if it was hell being so close to her—and wanting to be closer still, skin to naked skin beneath her in bed.

He looked up, caught by the scent of wildflowers. Max charged toward him, a piece of white fabric dangling from his head.

“Whoa, champ. This doesn’t quite look like your size.” Jared scooped up the wriggling dog and pulled off what appeared to be an undergarment of sheer white lace.

“It
isn’t.
But he decided it would make a perfect toy.” Maggie gave a brittle laugh, motionless and wary in the doorway. “Sorry if we interrupted you.” Her hair cascaded over her shoulders, and there was a smudge of charcoal on her cheek. She was wearing a soft sweater and a slide of deep blue silk that shimmered every time she moved.

Jared wanted to drag her down on the rug and sweep away the silk, then drive them both to sweaty oblivion.

Instead he forced a smile. “You didn’t. I was finished.”

Maggie petted Max. Then she reached for what Jared now saw was a sheer and very delicate slip.

He couldn’t fight a wave of heat at the thought of Maggie wearing it.

And
nothing
else.

He had to close his hands to keep from reaching for her. “Max seems to have exceptional taste.”

Maggie tugged the lace free and glanced over Jared’s shoulder. “You must be good with computers. Me, I can never get beyond the help screen.” She rolled her shoulders, pacing the room. “Thankfully, I don’t need them much. Not that my computer skills hold any interest for you.”

“All it takes is practice.” Jared felt tension crackling from her. She was uncertain, on the edge—and he knew it would be the last thing she’d ever admit. “Have you been working?”

She leaned down to scratch Max’s head. “I tried. All I managed to do was ruin three sheets of silver.”

“Get some rest,” he said softly. “The work will wait until tomorrow.”

“Well that’s the thing.” She took a raw breath. “Since I can’t seem to work, I thought maybe…” She reached out slowly and touched his jaw with the warm curve of her palm. “If you’re finished here, I thought you might want to…”

Through the power of contact, images flared into Jared’s mind. He saw their bodies entwined, Maggie flowing against him, reckless and warm.

Jared
wanted
alright.

The force of what he read in her mind left his throat dry and gritty. He considered it, too. He wanted to grip her hand and pull her upstairs to enjoy a long bout of grinding, mindless sex until neither of them could remember their names.

But it would only be the start because Jared wanted far more than mindless sex. He wanted the old-fashioned, roses-and-diamonds kind of commitment. The kind of love that left a man choosing names for his first child.

But love demanded more than a night or a week. Love demanded hope—and a future that Jared wouldn’t have.

Yet even then, he considered it. He wanted Maggie that way, even when he knew he had no future to offer her.

Then her hand slid against his chest and he saw the thick bandage slanting across her thumb. “You’re cut.”

“The wire slipped.” She shrugged. “It happens.”

“Damn it, Maggie—”

“It’s nothing. Sometimes I get burned; sometimes I get cut. It’s hardly earth-shaking.”

He closed his eyes, fighting a primal need to possess and protect her. “Be more careful, Maggie.”

“I can’t. Honesty always has a price. I’m honest when I work. And … honest right now.”

But Jared was experienced enough to know exactly what was happening. She was becoming an obsession, and that could hurt them both badly.

Or even get them killed.

Her hand opened on his. He felt her courage, mixed with her uncertainty. She was a singular woman who would fill the lonely corners of a man’s heart forever, if he was wise enough to let her.

She gave a crooked smile. “I could use a bit of help here, Commander. I’m not in the habit of propositioning stoic men. Especially when they look as if I’ve shocked and disgusted them.”

“Neither shocked nor disgusted.” Already his body was hardening, all too aware of how close she stood and how little she wore beneath that sheer slide of silk. He closed his eyes. “But I can’t.
We
can’t, Maggie.”

“Is that truly what you want, Jared?”

“It doesn’t matter what I want. It never has. There is duty. There is honor and repaying old debts. Nothing else counts in the end.”

An end that was far too close. An end that Jared had seen with burning clarity.

He turned, putting several inches between them. It was the only way he could clear his head and remember the danger around them. “You need to be careful. And you also need to rest. The other things … can wait.”

Her shoulders stiffened. “Sorry I brought it up. You’re obviously busy and I’m tired. So that’s that.” She leaned over, scooping Max from Jared’s arms. “Come on, honey.” She nuzzled the puppy, who barked and buried his nose deep in the soft folds of her sweater.

Exactly where Jared wanted to be.

Then Maggie turned slowly. Color swirled through her cheeks. “You know what? I’m not very experienced. I’ve never had much time for relationships. But there’s one thing I
do
know, Jared. You’re dead wrong about us. We would make something unforgettable together.”

Jared wanted to explain, to soften the rejection. But Maggie was already gone, the scent of her perfume lingering like a forgotten summer afternoon.

Killing him with slow, perfect precision and with the absolute certainty that she was right.

Three hours later the woods around the abbey lay silent. Nothing stirred at the Witch’s Pool or the old gatehouse. Only the moat moved, restless and silver in the moonlight.

Jared paused in his nighttime security round, listening to the hundred normal sounds of an old house settling.
Breathing
, Nicholas called it. But the complex noises could be unnerving if you weren’t used to them.

The wind sighed over the moat and shook the old casement windows Somewhere a wall creaked.

Jared climbed the stairs, studying the somber portraits along the shadowed wall. He could almost feel their eyes upon him—especially that haughty-faced aristocrat in the Long Gallery.

Adrian Draycott was the man’s name. According to Nicholas, the eighth viscount Draycott had not been a man to trifle with. The hardy adventurer had fought off vicious
dakhoits
in the Punjab while he’d made some exceedingly clever investments in the East. With the family fortunes secure, he’d wandered wherever his heart chose: Sardinia, Crete, even to the Americas. But some old sadness had clung to him, and he’d finally returned to the abbey he’d loved so well. There he had died, leaving behind even more rumors and legends, along with the legacy of his beloved roses, which still graced wall and hedge.

There was more to the story, but Nicholas would never reveal it. Now as Jared stood in the restless silence of night, he felt the lure of those strange legends. In this ancient house he could well believe that ghosts might walk.

Beyond a pair of heavy tapestries, he saw shadows gather. Behind that door Maggie lay sleeping.

His hand rose to grip the polished frame as he felt a desperate urge to see that she was safe. It was a perfect reason to push open the door, check the locked windows and scan the room

Only her safety drew him.

A lie.

Jared knew well that opening her door would be an invasion of her sleep and privacy. It was late and he was in no fit mood for company

But beneath all his cool logic moved a greater force. The door latch twisted in his hands.

He felt a sudden desperation to see her in the moonlight with her hair fanned out over the pillow.

To watch her sleep; to see her dream. Just once.

The door opened. His feet made no sound on the thick carpet.

Moonlight slanted through the windows and dusted the bed where she slept, one hand tugging at the sheets. A fine chain glinted at her wrist, links of beaten silver—her own work, no doubt.

In that endless moment while the house slept around him, Jared felt the orbit of his life pitch sharply. Something fell away from him as he watched her chest rise and fall slowly, the image of all he had ever wanted and never hoped to find.

Honesty he had never lacked. Wit, perhaps. Sanity even. But never honesty, despite her accusation that afternoon. He knew what lay before them in that moment when arguments were put behind him. He knew all the danger that moment would hold.

But suddenly it meant nothing as he saw Maggie’s dreaming face before him, calm and beautiful beyond his imagining.

The curtains lifted in a faint breeze.

Odd
, Jared thought. The windows were sealed and every door was locked. There was no reason for the gauzy panels to float out beside the French doors to her balcony

Frowning, he padded to the far wall. All the bolts were thrown, and every window was closed tight. The movement was probably from some tiny crack in the ceiling or a chip in one of the leaded glass panels. There had to be dozens of places where air could creep inside an ancient house like this.

Moonlight touched his hand from the window. Jared almost felt its cold weight on his skin. For an instant the room spun and the details changed. Silk walls turned to stone. Plaster ceilings merged to solid oak beams.

Impossible.

Yet Jared knew only too well that nothing was impossible, that normal logic and everyday reality could twist in cruel distortions. His own visions had proved that since his return from Thailand.

He turned away, one hand to his brow. What he needed was a hot shower and a good night’s sleep. And he needed to
forget
the woman on the bed, the woman whose beauty and strength called to him until his breath caught and his whole body ached.

He looked down, angry to see that his hand was shaking. What power did Maggie Kincade hold over him? Why in this night of all nights did her dreaming eyes call to him with promises of more joy than he could imagine?

He fought to remember she was a client in danger. He told himself what he felt was merely the result of months of solitude and pain, followed by too much loneliness.

But the words didn’t work. Wanting filled him, climbing in his chest and blocking even the simple act of taking breath.

I want you
, he said silently to the figure on the bed.
I want us together, more than I can imagine, more than is safe for either of us.

His hands closed slowly. He drove his fists deep into his pockets and forced himself to look away, to turn back toward the door—and the sadness of his own room, where too many shadows lay in wait.

Somewhere a clock chimed.

Jared did not move as the low chiming strokes filled the abbey halls.

Ten. Eleven. Twelve.

A few moments more
, he thought. To stand so close and imagine being closer still.

Linen rustled in the darkness. “Jared?” Blankets shifted and hit the floor.

He froze at the husky rasp of confusion in her sleepy voice. How would he explain that he only wanted her presence and the scent of her soft skin?

“I was checking the doors.” To his irritation, he had to clear his throat. “Sorry if I woke you.”

She sat up slowly, her eyes wide. Moonlight drifted over the sheer white cambric that hugged her shoulders. “I had the strangest dream. Something about a necklace-only it wasn’t a necklace. It became a crown of fire that burned all who touched it. There were voices and horses and someone else, but I don’t remember the face.” She took a shaky breath. “Was it a dream, or is this beautiful house driving me crazy?”