Labyrinth (16 page)

Margot, can we meet? I’ve come across something you want to see.

Charles

*****

Margot rested against a tree trunk and squinted at the sunlight that glinted off the blue water. The inlet where she’d agreed to meet Charlie was a twenty minute bike ride from Castle Morrison. Tall grass swaying amongst white dunes made her wish she had come for an afternoon nap instead of a mysterious meeting.

When she asked McNeil what he wanted to talk about, he’d only asked where they could meet. A quiver radiated through her stomach. She hadn’t seen him since leaving him at
midnight
with the excuse of a
5:30 a.m.
breakfast date with Cat. The quiver twisted into a knot. Her shock at discovering Cat’s delusion that Margot was Colin Morrison’s savior had dominated her thoughts on the bike ride. Now, memory of how she immediately sought Colin’s picture after leaving Charlie’s bed resurfaced.

Bobby had it right.
What kind of weird had she gotten herself involved with?

Balmy air fanned her skin. The day was the warmest since her arrival in
Scotland
, and the wind calmer that it had been when she’d been here before. The quiet solitude had relaxed her then. She wasn’t so lucky this time. Charles McNeil was a flesh and blood men who set her body on fire and made her wonder what it would be like to wake up beside him twenty years from now. So why dream about some dead phantom Scotsman? Dreaming, hell, she’d conjured him in her waking hours…and confused him with McNeil. How could she possibly mix-up the two men?

Margot’s mind snapped to attention. She hadn’t been certain why Cat was angry about her seeing McNeil. But now…Margot swallowed. Cat didn’t want Margot interested in any man except Colin Morrison. Sweet Christ, Cat truly belonged in an institution.

The crunch of tires on gravel caused Margot to jerk her head toward the top of the hill. The door of a nondescript gray compact opened and McNeil got out. He started down the hill. Margot rose onto shaky legs.

He reached her side and grasped her arm. “What’s wrong?”

The harsh note in his voice cleared Margot’s mind. He could see something was wrong and like a good SAS agent…maybe like a good lover, wanted to save her.

She flashed a tired smile, and she was so very tired.
“Long day.
Where’s the Alpha?”

He looked as if he might press further, but said. “Let’s walk, shall we?”

She nodded. He clasped her hand in his larger one and started forward like lovers on an afternoon stroll.

“Does Ms. Bower know about our rendezvous?” he asked.

“I didn’t tell her. I rode the bike, something I’ve done every day since my arrival. Of course, that doesn’t mean she doesn’t know.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry, but this isn’t something to discuss via text. If she discovers we met, tell her I couldn’t go the day without seeing you.” He flashed a smile. "It's not untrue."

A pleasant flutter eased the knot in her stomach and she leaned into him. If anyone noticed them walking along the dunes, they’d report she and McNeil met for a little afternoon delight. She wished it wasn’t a lie.

“Ms. Bree Cullen disappeared twenty months ago,” he said without preamble. “She was twenty-eight, hair past her shoulders, a beautiful young woman.” He glanced at Margot. “She worked at
Gearrannan
Blackhouse
Village
as an assistant housekeeper before she disappeared.”

“What’s the connection?”

“Her slipper was found at Castle Morrison.”

“A slipper,” Margot repeated. “That’s a strange article of clothing.”

“Yes,” he agreed.

“Sweet Christ, I told you Cat would—” Margot broke off and released a slow breath. “I’m sorry. I’d hoped to stop Cat before she killed again. I guess…well, I don’t know what I guessed.” She sure as hell hadn’t guessed Cat would be on a hunt for the Templar treasure, or that she would mark Margot as her sacrifice to obtain that treasure.

“Don’t make any hasty judgments,” McNeil said.

“What do you mean? You don’t think there’s a connection?”

“It bears looking into,” he replied. "
Which is why I turned over the information to John.
” Margot opened her mouth to reply, but he cut her off. “If Ms. Bower is connected, he’ll find out how.” A corner of McNeil’s mouth lifted. “If he knew I was here, I might get that discommendation.”

Margot halted. “You’re here against orders? Why Mr. McNeil, only two days ago you were under orders to keep me under surveillance.”

“A task I’ve thoroughly enjoyed.” He began walking again.

A gust whipped hair across her face with stinging force. “So, you don’t want me doing anything. Then why tell me about Bree Cullen?”

“Because if there is a chance Ms. Bowers is involved in Ms. Cullen’s disappearance, you could be in danger.”

A tremor rippled through her. How much danger was she in?

“How did you find out about Bree Cullen when Gordon hadn’t?” Margot asked.

“Pure luck.
I asked a friend at Scotland Yard to run a check.”

Margot scowled. “I knew they would get involved somehow.”

“Be glad they did. His initial search didn’t turn up anything more than John did, but he’s a creative fellow and expanded the search back six months before Ms. Bower purchased Castle Morrison.”

“Six months? Cat didn’t arrive in
Scotland
until four months before she bought the castle. Dammit, she can’t be connected.”

He shook his head. “Wrong. Ms. Bowers arrived in
Scotland
seven
months before she purchased Castle Morrison.”

“What? She lied to me. “Margot’s pulse accelerated. “Cat killed the girl.”

“Slow down, Margot.
You’ve been in law enforcement long enough to know not to jump to conclusions. Ms. Bowers could have any number of reasons for lying—especially to you.”

Well, damn, he was right. "Do the cops have any idea why Bree was killed?"

He shook his head. "She had no enemies. She also had no money, which makes her an unlikely candidate for Ms. Bowers. And as far as anyone can discover, the young woman didn't know her."

They reached an incline that led to the water’s edge and stopped. Wind gusted across the blue expanse.

“I suppose we’d better get back,” McNeil said.

Margot nodded. She glanced back at the car a hundred feet away and startled at seeing an elderly man standing beside the right fender watching them.

“We’ve got company.”

Charles twisted and looked in the direction she stared.

“You know him?” she asked.

Charlie slipped an arm around her back and faced forward. “No.”

He started down the hill. They reached an outcrop of hard sand about halfway down and she dropped to the ground, pulling him with her. He drew her close and she snuggled against him beneath the overhang where they weren’t visible from the hill.

“He’ll think we’re having a quickie.”

Margot stilled when McNeil traced a finger along her cheek. “Is that all it would be, Margot?”

She tilted her head upward and met his gaze. He stared, eyes dark with desire and something more that caused her stomach to flip.

“I—” she began but his mouth covered hers before she could finish the sentence.

 She grasped his shoulders and pulled him deeper into the kiss. He didn’t hesitate, his body coming down on hers. His hungry demands sent a shiver through her.

“We haven’t much time,” he said against her lips. He trailed kisses along her cheek to her ear. “I don’t want Ms. Bowers getting suspicious.”

Margot answered by slipping a hand between them. She tugged open the button on his jeans and reached past his underwear. His hard length filled her palm. He shuddered and thrust into her fingers. Margot squeezed. He groaned and reached for the button on her jeans. He kissed her again, and swept his tongue inside her mouth with an urgency that sent a shockwave between her legs. The button loosened and the downward slide of the zipper sent gooseflesh up her arms in anticipation of his fingers touching, teasing then, finally,
plunging
inside her.

He broke the kiss closed his mouth over a nipple, sucking through shirt and bra. Pleasurable friction tightened the nipple, puckering its twin along with it to marble hardness. Margot moaned. The zipper halted and his fingers slipped beneath the purple boy shorts and moved feather light over her curls.

“Sweet Christ,” she whispered.

“Indeed,” he agreed.

The long digit brushed her clit, then gently massaged. Her sex quivered, and she pulsed against his hand. He slid his finger into her folds and thrust inside
hard
. Her breath caught. Pleasure rammed through her. His shifted his mouth to the other nipple. She arched with the first suckle. His free arm slid beneath her, pulling her deeper into his mouth, harder against his finger fucking her.

Margot braced her feet on the ground, bucking against him in a sudden frenzy. She became aware of the hard cock, still cradled in her hand and rammed her hand downward against his groin. The hard length stretched beyond her palm, the mushroom tip thrusting from his white briefs. McNeil
groaned,
the sound reverberating through her chest in a slow roll. He abruptly yanked his finger from inside her. He straightened and yanked the sweater over his head.

McNeil tossed the fabric onto the sand beside them, jerked her jeans down her legs, then dropped onto the shirt and pulled her up and onto his lap. She shoved aside the thong as he lifted her up. Margot didn’t wait for an invitation, but slammed down on him, sheathing his cock so deep, pleasure mixed with pain in a breath-stealing second of delirium. He sucked in air, his grip on her hips steel, and lifted, then slammed her back down again. She grasped his shoulders. A thrill rocketed through her when the hard muscling bunched beneath her fingers. She rose and fell, the orgasm that had nearly crested seconds
ago rising
on a title wave of pleasure.

Margot threw her head back. Wind gusted through the alcove, sending gooseflesh racing down her legs. She rose and fell. He plunged deeper with each stroke. Orgasm burst through her, milking her walls around him. He stiffened, thrusts frenzied inside her cream filled channel. He yanked her close, hugging so tight her body was frozen as his cock plunged in and out of her. He abruptly reached between then and flicked her swollen sex with a finger.

Sensation spiked and another pleasurable spasm tightened her pussy. McNeil groaned and buried his head in her neck, orgasm pumping seed into her until he collapsed back onto the sand, taking her with him.

Chapter Sixteen

Margot reached Castle Morrison half an hour later and stored the bike in the gardener’s shed where it was kept. She headed for the stables located in the rear of the grounds. Her heart pumped with the memory of Charlie’s ardent lovemaking—and the prospect of connecting Cat to a murder in
Scotland
. Once Margot figured out why Cat would murder a young woman with no money, the connection between the two women might become obvious.