The Mighty Quinns: Danny (16 page)

Danny moaned softly, then opened his eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Kissing you,” she whispered.

“While I'm sleeping? Don't we do enough of that while we're awake?” He rolled over on his stomach and stared at her, his cheek pressed into the pillow. “If you expect sex while I'm sleeping, then we're going to have a serious problem. I need to have some time for rest.”

“That's not what I want,” she said. “I need to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“About the subject we've been so cautiously avoiding.”

“The crazy way your hair looks in the morning?” he asked.

Jordan grabbed her pillow and hit him squarely in the face. “No.” She paused. “Is it really that bad?” She crawled off the bed and ran to the bathroom. “You could have told me this sooner,” she shouted, grabbing a brush.

“I'm just taking a piss,” Danny replied.

“In the bed?”

“No. I'm teasing you. Making a joke. Your hair looks grand.”

Jordan quickly brushed through the tangled strands, then ran back into the bedroom and hopped beneath the covers. “There. That's better.”

“I love the way you look in the morning,” Danny growled. He grabbed her and pulled her on top of him. He was hard and ready, his erection pressed against her belly. “So what can I do for you this morning, my fairy queen?”

Jordan stared down into his handsome face, then smoothed her fingers over his brow. She'd grown so used to this, their time together in the early morning, the quiet conversations and the lazy seductions. How would she ever live without him? “I thought we ought to talk about what's going to happen once the house is finished. We've only got a few days left. They're going to bring the furniture day after tomorrow and you'll be finished the day after that.”

“Actually, I'm already finished,” Danny said. “I've just been making work the past few days. I made some tools for the fireplaces. And I was thinking about doing andirons for the fireplace in the breakfast room. Even though that room had just a grate.”

“No, if you're finished, then that's it.”

“I don't want to be finished. I like it here. I like this bed. And I like waking up with you in the morning.”

“I don't have a job after this project is done.”

“You need to talk to Kellan and tell him that you're interested in his offer.”

“I will,” Jordan said. “I just have a lot of things to think about right now. And I've decided that I'm going to take some time before I make any big decisions. I'm going to look for a place to stay here and—”

“You'll stay with me,” Danny said.

“But I should—”

“You'll stay with me,” he insisted, his tone firm.

Jordan smiled and gave him a hug. “I was hoping you'd say that. I'm going to have to go back to New York at some point to sublet my apartment and move some stuff out, but that can probably wait.”

“I think we should do some traveling. We could go to Paris or London or Rome. Some lady paid me a boatload of money for my last job and I think we should spend it.”

Jordan ran her hand over the rough stubble of his beard. “Paris would be fun,” she said. “But we'd go Dutch. I'd have to pay my own way or I refuse to travel with you.”

Danny's hands spanned her waist and he pulled her beneath him. “Do you think they have soft beds like this in Paris?”

“I'm sure they do.”

Jordan closed her eyes as he kissed her, enjoying the flood of desire that snaked through her body. His palm skimmed over her naked breast and his mouth teased at the places that only he knew.

“We won't have many days left in this bed,” she murmured, furrowing her fingers through his hair. “I suppose we ought to make the best of it.”

“You remember, I do have a bed at my cottage. We won't be sleeping on the floor.”

“I know,” Jordan said. “But this was our first bed. It's special.”

“We could always take it with us,” Danny suggested.

“If you have an extra ten thousand pounds, I'll sell it to you,” she said.

“Bloody hell. You paid that much for this bed?”

“It's a very special bed. And it's going into the master suite when the movers come.”

“When are they coming?”

“Day after tomorrow. We stage the whole house that day. Top to bottom. I've hired some women from the village to help and I have seven movers coming. They're bringing everything from the warehouse. And at the end of the day, the house will be done. We'll have to be out the next morning.”

“I'm going to start moving my tools back tomorrow,” he said. “I should be cleared out of the laundry in a few days.”

Jordan nodded. “I wish my father could see this place,” she said. “I've sent him photos, but it's not the same. It's so much more impressive when you see it in person.”

“Feck him,” Danny said. “He doesn't appreciate you the way I do. He doesn't deserve you.”

“Yes,” Jordan said. “Feck him. I don't need him anymore.”

“No, you don't. You're clever and talented and you can do this for yourself.”

Jordan slipped her arms around his neck. “I'm glad you believe in me.”

“It's not a difficult thing to do, Jordan.”

They made love quietly and slowly, enjoying a long lazy morning in bed. And, through it all, there was no more fear or hesitation. She didn't have to think about leaving him. They had many more mornings ahead of them.

And on one of those mornings, she might tell him what was in her heart, how she'd fallen in love even though she'd tried so hard not to. How he'd captured her heart the very first time she'd set eyes on him.

But that could wait. She had all the time in the world.

T
HE MANOR HOUSE
was dark and silent. Danny lay in bed, Jordan asleep beside him. He turned to look at her and smiled to himself. They'd come home from a leisurely dinner in the village and immediately crawled into bed. But this time, they hadn't made love. Instead, they'd spoken softly about their plans for the future.

He drew a deep breath. For now, she was going to stay. She'd furnish the house, then pack her things and move in with him. It wasn't meant to be permanent, but it was a step in the right direction.

Danny closed his eyes, unable to relax. He couldn't sleep. His mind was filled with possibilities now that Jordan was going to be a part of his life for a bit longer. It was all he'd really wanted, just a little more time.

He swung his legs off the bed, dressed only in his boxers. The air was chilly and he rubbed his arms as he walked out of the bedroom. Finny and Mogue looked up at him as he passed, but he held out his hand to stop them from rising.

He knew the house well enough that he needed no more light that the moonlight that poured through the
mullioned windows. His feet were quiet against the stone stairs and he ducked into the library, heading for the small table that held a whiskey decanter.

He crossed the room and poured himself a whiskey then headed for the kitchen. Since the Shakespeare had gone missing, they hadn't found any other trace of intruders.

Danny suspected one of the workmen had come inside looking for help and left the footprint. As for the book, perhaps it had fallen out of the crate on the way to the house. Still, there were moments when he felt as if he were being watched. Ghosts. The house was probably filled with all sorts of spirits, both good and evil.

As he stepped inside the door to the kitchen, Danny froze. A figure stood at the refrigerator, the light from the interior creating an eerie silhouette. He knew immediately that it wasn't Jordan. She was sound asleep upstairs. “What the hell—”

The man spun around, a half-eaten sandwich in his hand. Danny recognized the face immediately. “Bartie?” The elderly man made a break for the butler's pantry door, but Danny was quicker. He caught him by the arm and dragged him to a stop. To his surprise, Bartie didn't offer any resistance. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

“Having myself a sandwich. I was doing a—a spot of night work in the garden and felt a twinge in my stomach.”

“How did you get in?”

“The door. It was—unlocked.”

“No, it wasn't. I checked all the doors and the windows. Everything is locked up tight.”

“I have a right to be here,” Bartie said.

“You have a right to trespass?”

“This is
my
house.
Mine.
You're the ones who are trespassing.”

Either Bartie was delusional or drunk. Danny was determined to find out which it was and then find out exactly how he got inside. “Come on,” he muttered. He dragged him along with him to the library. When they got inside, Danny flipped on a lamp, then pointed to a chair next to the fireplace. “Sit.”

“I'm the host here. You're the guest. Don't tell me what to do.”

The sandwich still clutched in his hand, Bartie watched Danny with suspicious eyes. “I could stand a whiskey,” he said.

Danny strolled over to the small bar table and poured a measure into a tumbler. Perhaps it would loosen Bartie's tongue.

“Don't be stingy there, boy. A little more would be appreciated.”

Stubborn old sot, Danny thought as he handed him the whiskey. “How many times have you been in the house, Bartie? I mean, before I caught you.”

“I come and go as I please,” he said. “It's my house.”

“How is that possible?”

“I'm the heir to Castle Cnoc.”

“You?”

The old man took a sip of the whiskey then returned to eating his sandwich. “My grandfather owned the place. He inherited it from his father.”

“You're a Carrick?”

Bartie nodded, then wiped his hand on his pants and held it out to Danny. “Bartholomew G. Carrick the third. Pleasure to meet you.”

Danny took Bartie's hand and shook it. This was growing more bizarre with every moment that passed. The man who'd been digging holes for months in the garden was the former heir to Castle Cnoc. “You've been sneaking into the house?”

He nodded.

“How? I've made sure the place has been locked up tighter than a drum. And there are the dogs.”

“I have my ways,” Bartie said. “Secret ways. I'm not about to tell you.” He paused. “And your dogs don't bark at someone who's been feeding them bits of beef every day.”

“You will tell me how you got in or I'll call the gardai. And they'll haul you off to jail. If you're honest about all this, I may let you go without reporting you to either the authorities or Jordan.”

“She doesn't belong here. I do.”

“Bartie, I'm not sure how it happened, but I know that this house doesn't belong to you. Not anymore.”

The older man blinked at him, as if he didn't fully comprehend the complexities of property ownership. “It's been in my family for generations.”

“And now it isn't. Besides, why would you want this great hulk of a place? It's impossible to keep up. It would take thousands, hell, millions, to keep it looking like this. Myself, I've always preferred a tidy little cottage.”

“I have a cottage,” Bartie said. “In the village. It's lovely.”

“I have a place of my own in Ballykirk. Men like us don't need all these trappings. This place is like a museum. We're just regular blokes.”

Bartie nodded, then drained the rest of his whiskey. He held out the glass. “Another,” he ordered.

Danny decided to keep him drinking and talking. “So, you've been coming in and wandering around at night because you can't bear to part with the family estate? But what's with the holes in the garden?”

Bartie leaned forward. “I'm trying to find the treasure.”

“What treasure?”

“The gold and silver my grandfather buried in the garden. Before he lost his fortune, he hid a chest somewhere on the estate, to save it from his creditors. He planned to come back for it, but he died suddenly and the family fell into financial ruin. That's when they had to sell Castle Cnoc.”

Danny wasn't sure of the legalities of the situation. Would buried money belong to the current landowner or the heir of the person that buried it? Either way, Bartie would probably have some legal claim. “And have you found anything?”

He shook his head. “Not yet. But I will. I've been looking now for seventeen years. It's got to be here somewhere.”

“And you've looked in the house?”

“Oh, yes, I know every inch of this house and it's not here. Once she leaves I'll have much more freedom to look. The new owners won't be around much, I reckon.”
He gave Danny a shrewd look. “If you help me and we find it, I'll give you twenty percent.”

“If you show me how you got in,” Danny murmured, “I might consider it.”

“It's a secret,” Bartie said, grinning. He tapped his nose. “Only I know. A family secret passed down to the heir to Castle Cnoc.”

“Of course if you're talking about the smuggler's tunnel, we already know about that.”

Danny's question had the desired effect. Though there had always been talk of a tunnel out to the coast, Bartie would be the one to know. The old man's face flushed red and he seemed to grow more agitated. “Perhaps it's time to call the authorities?”

“I haven't done anything wrong. This house belongs to me.”

“Bartie, you know that's not true. And besides trespassing, they might want to add some other charges as well. Stalking, harassment, theft. You could be facing ten, maybe twenty years. And what about Daisy? She could be charged as your accomplice.”

“I—I—but—Daisy was only helping me search the grounds. She knew nothing about me coming into the house. And
theft
—I only took a copy of
A Midsummer Night's Dream
so Miss Kennally would think maybe there were fairies.”

Danny scowled. “What about the vase? And the ring?”

“I broke the vase accidentally. And I thought the ring might be a clue. I put it back.” Bartie looked offended.

“Show me the tunnel right now and I'll make sure none of this ever gets back to the authorities.”

“Yes.” Bartie paused. “Maybe that would be best.”

“Danny?”

They both turned to find Jordan standing in the doorway, dressed in only a faded T-shirt. Her eyes went wide when she caught sight of Bartie and she pulled the bottom of the shirt down to cover her backside.

“What are you doing here, Bartie? It's late.”

“Bartie is our resident brownie,” Danny said. “He's been in and out of this house—what?—a hundred times since he started working for you.”

“More before that,” Bartie said. “It's not hard.” He walked over to the center bookshelf on the far wall. “It's this center shelf. You just give it a quick shove, like this and—” He pushed and the bookcase suddenly became a door. “Simple, really. The stairway leads to a tunnel and the tunnel comes out on the cliffs.”

“Why did you come in?”

“Bartie's been looking for treasure.”

“First, I thought it was in the house, but I've been over this place with a magnifying glass before you showed up. Swimming pool too. Thought it might be there, but it wasn't. The garden was the next logical spot.” He frowned. “It's here somewhere. I know it.”

“What were you doing in my room that night?”

“Hoping to steal a key,” he said. “Crawling through that tunnel's been hard on the back,” he complained. “Would rather come through the front door, I would.”

The three of them stood silently for a long time. “What do you want to do with him?” Danny asked.

Jordan sighed. “Just finish the garden, Bartie. I want to see roses in there before the end of the week. Stop digging holes, stop sneaking into the house. If there was
hidden treasure here, you would have found it already.” She looked over at Danny. “I'm going to bed. Are you coming?”

“You don't want to see where this passageway goes?” he asked, surprised.

“No! It's the middle of the night. We'll look at it tomorrow.” She stumbled out of the room, grumbling, “I can't believe Bartie was the brownie. All of that worry for nothing.”

 

T
HE NEXT FEW DAYS
at Castle Cnoc were a flurry of activity. The moment Jordan got a look at the smuggler's tunnel, she insisted that it had to be renovated before the owner arrived: electric lighting installed, the walls freshly painted and the tile floor restored. She would even have the blueprints for the house redrawn to show the new discovery.

Danny had been left to find work for himself, staying out from underfoot as much as he could. The furniture was being delivered that morning and though he'd offered to help, Jordan had suggested that he help Bartie finish up the plantings in the garden.

In truth, Danny was glad to be banished from the house. Since the movers had arrived at eight that morning, Jordan had been edgy and curt, overwhelmed with the details of examining each piece before it was placed in the proper room. Jordan had also hired five women from the village to give the manor house a final polish. They were to wash the new linens, make the beds, unpack china and silver in the butler's pantry and carefully arrange all the bits and pieces of decor that she had chosen over the past seventeen months. When she
wasn't dragging furniture from one spot to the other, Jordan was directing traffic and barking out orders.

Danny wandered back outside and headed to the walled garden. After the confrontation with Bartie two nights before, the old man had focused all his energy on finishing the planting. Danny felt a bit sorry for him. After years of searching for his treasure, he'd finally decided to give up looking.

Bartie had brought a crew from the village to help yesterday and they'd worked all day to get nearly a hundred rose bushes planted. Now he was spreading mulch between the plants and the crushed-stone paths.

Danny grabbed a shovel that was leaning against the wall and stepped inside the garden, ready to give the old man a hand. But as he shoved the spade into the mulch, an image flashed in his mind. There was one place that Bartie might not have searched.

“Bartie,” he called, motioning the man over. “Grab your shovel and come with me.”

“I have to finish. Miss Jordan wants this done by the end of the day.”

“We can take a break. I'll cover for you with Jordan.”

Bartie joined him and Danny headed toward the cliff. “Have you ever been down to the cove?”

“When I was a kid. Gettin' down the cliff is tricky at my age.”

“And you know about the cave?” Danny asked.

Bartie shook his head. “I don't know of any cave.”

“Well, I'm sure your great-grandfather knew about it. I suspect they used it to store smuggled goods until they could move them through the tunnel. I'm thinking
that maybe your great-grandfather buried his treasure in that cave.”

“It makes sense,” Bartie said. “What if we find it?”

“We'll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Danny said.

He helped Bartie navigate the narrow path down the cliffs, then showed him how to get inside the cave. The flashlight he'd used for the last trip to the cave was still in his pocket and he turned it on. “He'd have to bury anything past the reach of the water,” Danny said. “You can see on the wall how far up it comes.”

They started at the back wall of the cave, working in the wavering light. Almost immediately, they struck something metallic buried in the sand. Bartie looked up at him, wide-eyed, then bent down and began to brush the sand away with his hands.