The Ruby Brooch (The Celtic Brooch Trilogy) (50 page)

A crystal chandelier hung above a family crest medallion set in the middle of the marble floor. The fixture showered the room with golden light. The restoration photographs she’d seen on the website didn’t reflect the true elegance of the eighteenth-century Georgian home, and she’d been leary about her reservation. Not anymore. Her discerning eye perused the oversized foyer’s woodwork, flocked wallpaper, and antique furniture. “Gorgeous. Just gorgeous.”

At least I’ll be comfortable while I pace and wait for the pathology report.

The chauffer entered behind her. “I’ll leave your bags next to the lift, Ms. Montgomery.” Then on his way out, he handed her a business card. “If you need a driver during your stay, here’s my number.”

She examined the card before slipping it into her pocket.

Voices pulled her toward a door standing open at the far end of a narrow hallway. She applied lip balm before crossing the threshold into a paneled room painted a dark brick red. Pools of light from votive candles and low-wattage table lamps created an inviting ambience.

“Excuse me. Do you know where I can find Louise?”

A younger version of
Golden Girl
Betty White welcomed her with endearing blue eyes and a dimpled smile. The woman’s toes pointed inward when she walked, giving a bounce to each step. A multi-colored sweater hung loose across her shoulders, and when she waved, inviting Meredith into the room, the empty sleeves danced like fluttering butterflies, and a half dozen rings in different colors and styles jingled on her fingers.

“I’m Louise. Are you Meredith Montgomery?”

Louise seemed too fun and flighty to live in a stately red room filled with leather-bound classics, antiques, and Scottish artifacts. In Meredith’s periphery, she watched a man push aside an ottoman and stand with the aid of crutches. “I’m sorry to arrive so late. I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Not a’tall. Come in, dearie.” Louise’s lyrical brogue blended with the quartet playing on the audio system. “Can I offer you a drink?”

“Hmm. I’d love a scotch with a dash of spring water.” Meredith stepped to the hearth where heat emanated from a deep fireplace. A pile of logs crackled and blazed.

“I’ll be the barman, Lou.” The man’s Scottish accent fluttered over her. A soft breeze of pure silk dipped in whiskey. While he poured her drink, Meredith inhaled with her eyes, studying the dark haired man with fine lines on his clean-shaven face and razor sharp creases in his khakis. There was an irresistible and handsome quality about him.

When he offered her a crystal glass, his fingertips brushed her palm. A brief touch, seemingly unintentional, but a whetting of interest shimmered in his rich-as-Belgian-chocolate eyes. She glanced away for only a moment to gather composure.

“Louise has forgotten her manners,” he said. “I’m Elliott Fraser.”

“You’re welcome to join us,” Louise said in an easygoing manner. “Or, maybe you’d prefer to take the cocktail to your room? Elliott arrived only an hour or so ago. We’ve been catching up.”

When Meredith had entered the B&B, she’d only wanted to find her bed, but the warmth enveloping her now changed her mind. “I’d like to unwind for a few minutes.” She lowered herself to the overstuffed sofa and sipped her drink. “How far did you travel, Mr. Fraser?’

“Mr. Fraser was my father. Call me Elliott. And, I just arrived from New York City.”

She leaned forward, tilting her head. “Those rolling R’s don’t sound like Manhattan or the Bronx or Queens or—”

“I’m originally from around Inverness.” He resettled into the chair. “I get back often enough to keep a touch o’ the brogue. What about you? Have you visited here before?”

“Every year since I was five, but I never picked up the accent.” She traced the deep etching of the monogram on the crystal tumbler with her fingertips, thinking of her silly childhood attempts to sound like a Scot.

“You don’t sound like New York either,” he said.

“San Francisco”

One of his eyebrows lifted into a curious arch.

A text message beep echoed through the room. Meredith reached for her purse but came up with a blank screen. Elliott flipped his phone out of the holster on his belt. “Excuse me. I need to answer this.”

Louise picked at the doily-covered sofa arm. The fire crackled and a log snapped as it gave way and turned to ash. Meredith sank into the deep cushions, curious about the man texting on his cell phone. He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.

Elliott finished his message and holstered his phone just as Louise nodded off, wine glass in hand. He reached over and snatched it. “Careful.”

Her eyes shot open, and she straightened in her chair. “What? Why’d you take my drink?”

“You were about to spill it.”

“Oh.” She yawned her way to her feet. “It’s time to find my bed then. Come along, Meredith. I’ll show you to your room. Elliott, will you bank the fire?”

He stood, chuckling. “Good night, Lou.”

Meredith set her empty glass on the mantel. “Thank you for playing barman.”

“My pleasure.”

Several minutes later when she closed her guestroom door, Meredith thought of Elliott Fraser. His gaze had been a slow onceover filled with male appreciation. She shook her head. He was a player if she’d ever met one—handsome, sexy, and emotionally unavailable. Not that she wanted a man in her life right now, and she certainly didn’t want or need any drama.

Stay away. There’s probably a trail of broken hearts from here to New York.

FROM THE MOMENT Meredith had entered the library, Elliott’s eyes stayed fixed on her. Skinny black jeans stretched over slim and toned legs and ass.
I bet she’s a runner.
Beneath a fitted white cashmere sweater were the sexy outlines of sculpted arms and shoulders.
Effective cross training
. Small breasts were a turn off for him, but her other assets, particularly her full lips with a dash of glossy pink, held his interest. Silky black hair fell in waves to just below her collarbone. When he handed over the drink, the pupils of her summer-sky eyes dilated. She was a classical beauty with a ring on her left hand that said married.

Elliott leaned on his crutches, swallowed the last of his drink, then set the crystal on the mantel next to Meredith’s glass. He casually rubbed his finger around the rim where her glossy mouth had touched. Lip balm—a staple with every runner’s gear, guaranteed to keep lips soft and moist—kissable lips. The taste of honey was his favorite.

For the first time in hours, his heart resumed its normal rhythm. Doc’s text message said if Galahad’s blood work came back negative, he’d be released from quarantine and allowed to go home. Elliott wouldn’t relax until the horse stood in his stall on the farm.

He grabbed the shovel from the fireside tools and buried the flame under a heavy layer of ashes. A shovelful of the fire’s residue dampened the flames, but not the spark of desire he felt for a tall, California beauty. It might be worth delaying his departure from Edinburgh a day or two and squeeze in a bit of romance. He’d check on Galahad in the morning, then decide.

ELLIOTT’S CELL PHONE rang, sending the god-awful
Brady Bunch
ringtone through the darkened guest room. He shook the phone as if that would restore its normal programming, but the nauseating sound couldn’t be blamed on the device. The fault fell solely on his goddaughter’s dry sense of humor.

The illuminated hands on his wristwatch pointed to 7:00. When he rolled over, he put pressure on his wound, and a rush of air hissed through his front teeth. “Damn.”
He jabbed the answer button and growled his name. “Fraser.”

His severe tone elicited a gasp on the other end, and then a tentative voice said, “This is Alice.”

Why was the woman who managed his house in the Highlands calling now? Certainly not to ask him to pick up a gallon of milk.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but your email didn’t tell me what time you planned to leave Edinburgh.”

“This afternoon. Why?”

“I have…well, bad news.”

Elliott sat straight up in the king-sized bed, sending another hot stream of pain through his leg.

“The kitchen water pipe we recently fixed sprung another leak. The plumber and carpenter will be here this morning to start making repairs. I wanted you to know before you arrived.”

“What kind of damage are we talking about?”

“You might need a new floor. That’s all I can tell you until the workmen get here.”

“What about the wine cellar?”

“We found the leak before it damaged anything below.”

Was a conspiracy in the works to ruin his holiday? The question crept along the edges of his foul mood. First Galahad. Now the estate. “Do what has to be done. I’ll drive up later.” Hell, he might as well stay in Edinburgh and spend Christmas with Louise and Evelyn, the only family he had left. He called Kevin, knowing his body man wouldn’t be disappointed. “We’re staying.”

“What happened?” Kevin’s voice sounded groggy with sleep.

“I’m spending the holiday with the girls. Bring my bags to the B&B. I’ll tell Lou you need a room.”

Elliott heard a muffled female voice in the background ask, “You don’t have to leave?”

At least Kevin had something more pleasant whispering in his ear than an obnoxious ring tone. Elliott leaned back against the headboard and thought of his horse. Then he envisioned a long-legged ray of California sunshine wrapping well-formed legs around him.

AFTER CHECKING EMAIL and showering, Elliott went in search of Louise. He entered the dining room calling her name. “Louise, where are you?
Louise.
”

Meredith poked her head up over the end of a long table dominating the room. “I think she’s in the kitchen.”

He stretched his neck, glancing beyond the tabletop. “Do you need help?”

“I dropped my notebook and the clips came undone.” Her voice held a steely thread of tension. “I’m trying to pick up the pages so they stay in order.”

Dozens of documents in plastic covers spread across the Oriental rug like fully extended bellows on an accordion. “Looks like a marketing campaign.”

“Shoot.”
She swept the loose pages into the notebook and slammed it shut. “
He’s
changed all of the slicks anyway.” Her cell phone rang. She stood and yanked the phone off the table. Then with the notebook in one hand and the phone in the other, she hurried into the front sitting room. Her voice trailed behind her. “I want to review them now, Gregory. Not in a half hour. If they’re not the final slicks, I don’t care. I need to see the artistic direction. Email them to me now.”

Elliott eavesdropped while pouring a cup of coffee from the silver service on the buffet. While Meredith’s call continued, he glanced at the front page of
The Edinburgh Evening News
spread open on the table. Hogmanay tickets? Attending the Concert in the Gardens would be a nice diversion, and maybe even The Keilidh events. He’d see what plans Louise had made.

Meredith returned to the dining room wearing a lovely shade of pink on her cheeks. “I’m sorry. That was rude.” She glanced at her phone as if considering whether she needed to make another apology. “I’m usually onsite when we’re developing a big project.”

“I hope the problem’s resolved.”

“Not yet.” She returned to her seat. “What do you do, Elliott?”

He placed his cup of coffee on the table and sat across from her. “I manage a Thoroughbred operation in Lexington, Kentucky.”

“I thought you were from New York.”

e eased“I flew in
from New York.”

She lined up her phone, pen, ChapStick, and highlighter in height order on top of the binder.

Elliott pinched his lips together, intrigued by her idiosyncrasies.

“Lexington claims to be the horse capital of the world. It must have more horses than people,” she said.

“The claim’s based on economic impact of the industry, not on horse population.”

She regarded him while she fiddled with her spoon. Something glimmered behind her carefully veiled eyes. “Do you race your horses?”

“Yes.”

“Do you win?”

He threw her a crooked grin. “I always intend to. Occasionally I don’t, but that doesn’t happen often. What about you?” He nodded toward her binder. “Do you usually win?”

“Like you, I always intend to.”

Charlie’s Welcome
blared from his phone
.
He yanked the device from its holster. “My goddaughter and I accidentally switched phones a few months ago. She downloaded ringtones for several of my contacts. The music always surprises me.”

“Teenagers love those, don’t they?”

“Teenagers I can understand, but Kit’s twenty-five. Excuse me. I need to take this call.” He pushed the answer button and said, “Fraser.” He grabbed his crutches, entered the front sitting room, then closed the door, hoping for a short conversation with his father’s solicitor.

Thirty minutes later, sitting in front of the narrow window overlooking Great Kings Street, he stared off into the distance and circled his finger in the air. The lawyer couldn’t see him give the wrap-up signal, and he continued to drone on about probate in Scotland. Elliott knew all he needed to know. At its end, a man’s life should amount to more than a catalog of assets. Finally, he interrupted. “I’ll be there at 2:00 to review the documents.” He quickly disconnected before the long-winded solicitor had a chance to take a breath. With that stomach-churning business disposed of, Elliott returned to the dining room to find Meredith gone. “Damn.”

Louise’s familiar clogs clomped across the hallway’s marble floor. “I heard that.” She kissed his cheek. “So what’s put you in such a dreadful mood?”

“Dad’s solicitor.”

“Egads. If that’s how your morning started you better go back to bed. The day won’t get any better.”

“It had a God-awful start, then a delightful reprieve.”

“You need breakfast. An empty stomach makes you grumpy.”

“If anything can improve my day, your breakfast has the best odds.”

“Sit. I’ll get your plate.” She hurried into the kitchen. “Did you talk to Meredith earlier?”