The Witch's Stone (27 page)

“Wait.” She pressed her hand to his chest, the roughened skin of her scar resting on top of his hammering heart.

“What is it?”

“Condom.”

“Shite, of course. Dinnae move, I’ll be right back.”

Caid left the study, took the stairs two at a time and jogged down the hall to his room. He snatched one of the packets from his dresser and rushed back to the study. She was leaning against the desk, waiting for him. Her dark hair fell loose and tousled past her shoulders, her cheeks flushed as her hungry gaze moved over him. She moistened her lips and a jolt rocketed through his system, exploding in his chest.

He closed the distance between them, dropped the condom on the desktop and cupped her face in both hands. His mouth covered hers, his tongue tasting, exploring. Her fingers tangled in his hair, tiny needles stinging his scalp.

As he tugged down her jeans and underwear, she nipped at his jaw and chin, feeding the hunger swelling inside him like a gathering storm. Gripping her bottom, he lifted her onto the edge of the desk. With a low moan, she tilted her head back and parted her thighs, then wrapped her legs around him, drawing him against her.

“Sweet Christ,” he muttered, closing his eyes in a last ditch effort for control--if he couldn’t see those pale, slender thighs, perhaps he could keep from losing himself between them for just a moment more--he slid his hand between her legs, pressing a finger into her wet heat. She whimpered, her undulating hips rocking against his hand, the sound and feel of her nearly driving him mad.

He opened his eyes and looked down into hers, glazed and hungry. He couldn’t wait. He needed to be inside her now.

He fumbled his erection from his jeans, grabbed the condom and somehow managed to tear it free of the packet despite his shaking fingers. He pulled the rubber over his head, rolled the latex down his shaft.

“Yes,” she murmured, wrapping her fingers around his length and following the path his own hand had traveled. His balls pulled tight and he nearly came where he stood.

God help him, he couldn’t wait any longer. Gripping her hips, he thrust deep. She closed around him, tight and slick. When her legs locked around his waist, he was lost.

Mindless, he pumped harder, faster, his every thrust making him hungry for more.

“Please,” she gasped. “Oh, please.”

Her arms wrapped tight around his neck. Her body tensed. She cried out, contracting around him, pushing him past the edge of control until there was nothing.

Just them.

Just this moment. 

He drove deep inside her. A groan tore loose from his throat, and he came in his own shuddering climax.

Caid watched the bath water lap lazily against Hillary’s bare breasts, and trailed a finger over her pale nipple. The skin puckered beneath his touch, the sight fascinatingly erotic.

“Hmm,” she murmured dreamily. Her head rested on his shoulder, her back against his chest and stomach, and her bottom fit perfectly between his legs. “I don’t know why they ever stopped making bathtubs like this.”

Caid leaned back against the edge of the big claw foot tub, the cast-iron cold on the back of his neck compared to the steaming hot water. “The expense. It’s no’ as dear to make them from whatever the make bathtubs out of these days.”

“But this is so much better. It’s big enough for two.”

A definite perk, he agreed silently, closing his eyes. Absently, he turned and brushed his lips against the damp hair at her temple. He could spend the rest of his life like this.

The fingers teasing her taut nipple stilled. His eyes popped open.

The rest of his life? Had he lost his bloody mind? When had he started thinking in the long term? He hadn’t. He was just very relaxed, comfortable, that was all.

He liked Hillary. He cared for her, even. When they parted ways, he might even miss her, but he didn’t do forever. He just wasn’t made that way.

“What is it?” she asked, sitting up and turning to look at him. She must have felt his tension.

He reached for her and pulled her back down against him. He liked the way she fit.

His mind whirled while searching for an answer to her question, something as far removed from his actual thoughts as possible. “Where were you when I got home? You said you’d tell me, remember?”  

That’s right, she had, Hillary thought, nibbling on her lip. As if her evening hadn’t been turbulent enough. She tilted her chin so she could see his face. “You’re not going to like it.”

“No?” His mouth curved into a lazy smile. “And why not?”

“I went to see Willie.”

He tensed. “You did what?”

“I didn’t go alone, Sarah came with me.”

“That’s hardly comforting. The man’s threatened you twice…” His voice trailed off and his features drew together in a deep frown.

“I think he was the one who locked me in the cellar. I suspect he was after the journals.”

“Bloody hell, all this for a book written by a dead man?”

“There’s more to it than that.” Hillary sat up and turned so she faced him. “Those people who died over the last year, the ones Joan told us about, I don’t think they were accidents. I think someone murdered them. I was reading Roderick’s journal last night, and one of the entries mentioned a family named Fraser who died in a fire.”

“Joan talked about the Fraser’s car accident right before her own fire,” he murmured.

“That’s why the name stood out. Anyway, I went back through my notes to see if there was anyone else who died strangely. I found mention of a man bludgeoned at the side of the road. Roderick said authorities suspected vagrants had robbed and beat the man to death. It made me think of Charlie Radcliffe, the man hit by a car.”

“Beaten by vagrants isnae quite the same as a hit and run.”

“No, but similar enough for me to wonder, whether there’s a clue in these journals that will somehow connect Willie to the accidents that have been happened in Culcraig over the past year.”

“Why Willie? What makes you so sure it was him?”

“I found his earring in the pantry.”

“Christ’s sakes.” Caid leaned forward quickly and some of the water slopped over the edge of the tub. “You think he’s a murderer, had bloody proof that he’d been in here, and still you went to see him alone?”

“I wasn’t alone. I told you, Sarah was with me. And there were other people in the pub.”

“Did you happen to notice how friendly Willie is with the crowd around the bar? Do you honestly think they’d come to yer rescue if he murdered the both of you and shoved you in a bloody freezer?”

“That’s your writer’s imagination speaking.”

“Aye, perhaps it is, and perhaps you could do with a wee bit of it, yerself.”

“You’re overreacting.”

“Am I? Two women alone, confronting a man you think may have killed how many people? Five, so far?”

“You keep harping on the two women alone.  We’re not exactly helpless.”

“Two women versus Willie and a half dozen of his mates. Call me sexist if you like, love, but I dinnae like those odds.”

“Look, I’m fine, but if I’m right about what’s going on here, you’re the one in danger.  I know from my research that Roderick’s first wife and child die before Anne. If Willie is mimicking the deaths that were eventually tied to Anne, as a descendant of Roderick’s, you could be a target.”

Caid snorted. “Aye well, that’s some cheerful news. Look, do me a favor, stay away from Willie, and I’ll do the same. Tomorrow we’ll speak to Bristol and show him the earring.”

“Sure, but I doubt he can do anything with it. Those earrings are not uncommon. I saw three different shops in Culcraig selling them. The earring isn’t enough to prove without a doubt that Willie was in the house.”

“No, but I still think we should go to Bristol. He can at least keep an eye on Willie.” Caid rested his hands on her upper arms, rubbing up and down over her smooth, wet skin.

How surreal to be sitting in a bathtub with a man she was in love with, discussing suspects in a possible murder. Funny where life could lead.

“Okay,” she agreed. “But for now, let’s get out of here. The water’s getting cold and my fingers are wrinkling.”

Together they climbed out of the tub and half dried off before tumbling onto Caid’s bed. He made love to her again, slowly, languorously, just as he had promised. He explored every inch of her, touching, tasting, until she thought she would lose her mind from wanting him.

And after they came together in a frantic explosion, she collapsed into his arms exhausted and sated.

A shrill, distant ringing dragged Hillary up through layers of sleep. She sat up in the darkness. A phone? Yes, from somewhere in the house. And the thud of hurried footfalls on the stairs.

She reached her hand out to the empty space on the bed next to her. Caid’s imprint on the sheets was still warm from his body heat. She reached for the lamp next to the bed and clicked it on, blinking against the pale light. Once her eyes adjusted, she lifted her watch from the bedside table. Three thirty in the morning.

The phone had stopped ringing, but a sick feeling settled over her. No good news ever came from a phone call so early in the morning.

She stood, slid on her pajama bottoms and sweatshirt before leaving the bedroom and heading downstairs. The cold from the drafty old house wrapped around her and she shivered. Once she reached the main hall, Caid’s hard voice drifted out from the study.

“No, I’ll no’ wake her for you. In fact, you’ll stay the hell away from her. Am I clear?”

Hillary entered the room and met Caid’s angry expression. “Who is it?” she mouthed.

For moment he said nothing, then held the receiver out to her. “It’s for you.”

She frowned and accepted the phone, lifting it to her ear. “Hello.”

“Have you told yer bodyguard it was me in the house?” Willie’s harsh voice scraped against her muddled mind like steel wool.

“You’re admitting it, now?”

“Just answer the blasted question!”

“Don’t yell at me. Yes, I told him, and Bristol.”

“Ye’re a lousy liar.” He chuckled. “I was in Glendon House. I’m the one who carried you into the cellar.”

“I know that, and I even know why, but I don’t understand why you started the fire at Joan’s.”

“You think you know everything? You havenae a bloody clue. Now, if you want the truth, I suggest you get down to the pub now and bring the earring.”

“Oh yeah, sign me up for that. So I can wind up dead and shoved in a meat locker?”

Caid, who’d been watching her intently, smirked a little.

“Listen to me, you might think you know what’s happening, but I can promise you, ye’re wrong. I wasnae alone when I broke into Glendon House, or when I put you in the cellar.”

Her heart beat hard against her chest. Was he lying? She couldn’t be sure. “Who was with you?”

“I’ll tell you when you get here.”

“Why are you suddenly willing to tell me anything?”

“I’m no’ getting sent down for this. I wanted no part in killing anyone. You bring me the earring and leave my name out of it from here on in, and I’ll tell you what you wantae know.”

“If you think I’m going to meet you alone in the middle of the night, you’re out of your mind.”

“Bring yer bodyguard if it makes you feel better, but tell anyone else and I’ll deny everything.”

Hillary didn’t speak for a moment.

“You need to know,” Willie said. “Otherwise, both you and yer writer will end up dead.”

“This is a mistake,” Caid said as he pulled the car into the pub’s gravel lot. “I dinnae know how I let you talk me into coming here.”

Hillary stopped nibbling her lip long enough to answer him. “I didn’t have to talk you into anything. You’re as curious as I am.”

“Aye, maybe I was, but this is all a bit too dodgey for me. I think we should just go to Bristol in the morning, like we planned.”

“If we involve Bristol now, we might never find out if Willie’s telling the truth or not.” She didn’t look at Caid when she spoke.  Instead she kept her eyes fixed on the still pub before them. “Besides, we’re here now.  We might as well go in.”

She reached for the door handle, but Caid’s hand closed over hers and stopped her. “I’ll go in first. You wait here. There’s no sense in both of us putting ourselves in a dangerous situation.”

“I’m not about to let you go in there alone while I wait in the car. Anyway, there’s safety in numbers.”

Before he could argue further, she yanked on the handle and popped open the door. The cool, damp air sent a wave of goose bumps over her skin and a shiver up her spine.

“I think this is a mistake,” Caid said again, linking his fingers with hers.

“I know.”

Together they left the empty parking lot and followed the path to the door, their footfalls crunching on the tiny stones and the wind whispering through the trees the only sounds in the dark pre-dawn.

What if Caid was right? What if Willie had set some kind of trap for them? Who would hear them if they needed help?

As they drew nearer the entrance, Hillary’s heart rate accelerated. The windows were dark and there was no sign of life inside.

This
was
a mistake. She stopped and started to tell Caid to forget the whole thing, but he cut her off.

“The door’s open,” he said quietly.  Sure enough, the door gaped a good half foot. “Stay behind me.”

Reluctantly, she released his hand and hung back as Caid moved inside. From the doorway, everything was still and silent. In the dim light, she could make out the shadowy outlines of tables and chairs.

“Willie,” Caid called.

The sudden noise made her wince. No one answered.

“We’ll no’ play games, Willie,” Caid shouted. “Come out now, or we’re leaving.”

Again, no answer.

“What do you think?” he asked.

Something tickled her nostrils. Something sweet and metallic and hauntingly familiar.

“He could be in his office. It’s in the back. If his door’s closed, he might not be able to hear us.”