A Laird for Christmas (22 page)

Nicholas held out his hand to Jane as he had so many times in the past. “Are you ready?”

Did he know the true weight of his words at that moment? Was she ready to move forward into a new relationship with him?

His gaze connected with, held, and challenged hers. And something inside Jane softened. It could not be easy for Nicholas to be here at Bellhaven and forced to share her with five—four—other men.

Was she ready?

Jane reached out. Her fingers trembled. She touched the warmth of Nicholas’s flesh, smelled the scent that was his own, and her pride melted. As though no time had ever passed, his fingers curled around hers.

“I am ready if you are,” she said, then realized the double entendre of her words. A blush crept up her throat. “I mean, yes. Let us discover the truth.”

He gave her a direct look, his gaze probing, his smile edged with dangerous intent. His gaze dropped to her lips.

Jane shivered and tried to pull out of his grasp.

He did not let go. “Do not run from me, Jane. Not this time,” he asked, his voice a raw whisper.

She looked into his eyes and realized in that moment just how much she cared about him, how much she wanted him to care about her. Her heart fluttered. For the first time, she could not summon a single reason to tell him no. “Lead on.”

Nicholas held her gaze and nodded. “The first task ahead of us is to discover the ‘secret’ of the ghost of Lady Lennox.”

Clara paused around the corner. “This is where she vanished.” She shivered. “May I leave you now? I have no wish to see that ghost twice in one day.”

“You may leave.”

The girl nodded and hurried back the way they had come, leaving Nicholas and Jane alone.

“Do you believe in the supernatural?” he asked.

She pressed her lips together before replying, “If you mean, do I believe my mother is here as a ghost? No. She has been dead for so long…” Jane swallowed roughly, and this time when she tried to pull away, he let her go.

Emotion surged as a memory of the past filled her mind. She saw her mother and herself almost fifteen years ago, walking handinhand along this hallway to the tower where they could look out over the land and watch for her father to return. Jane closed her eyes, trying to will the memory away. The image in her mind only sharpened.

Jane opened her eyes. She missed her mother so much in that moment it hurt deep inside herself. Margaret had been a wonderful substitute, but nothing could ever replace her mother’s love. Jane took a deep breath and titled her chin up. “I am sorry, Nicholas. You will have to explore the hallway on your own.”

He startled. “Where are you going?”

She did not answer as her feet hurried away, heading to the one place in the castle that could help clear her thoughts.

C
olin Taylor might have no knowledge of who he was by birth, but he was not ignorant of human nature. And in his experience, men did not let go of their anger as easily as Bryce had let go of his.

Under the cover of darkness, Colin followed Bryce out of the castle, staying out of sight. Bryce had taken no horse, so he must not intend to go far. But why leave the castle, when everything he wanted was within its walls?

The wind blew softly across the moors; Colin was grateful, for it brushed away the footsteps he was not able to conceal. Bryce moved with assurance, as though he knew the lay of the land, and even in the darkness could find what it was he sought.

After walking for a time, they approached an outcropping of rocks. Bryce stopped in front of them as another man came out of the shadows to stand beneath a circle of silver-white moonlight. “Do you have information?” Bryce asked.

Colin shielded himself behind a nearby rock that was big enough to conceal his body, yet close enough to see and hear what the other two had to say.

“I have a copy of Lord Lennox’s will, along with a few other tidbits that I could gather about the others,” the stranger replied in a gravelly voice. The cool light illuminated only half of the man’s face, giving him a vaguely sinister appearance. He seemed, from what Colin could see, to be about the same age as Bryce, in his late twenties.

But where Bryce was neatly garbed with golden, with unblemished skin and a raw handsomeness that at times made him seem unreal, the stranger was blemished and rough, despite the elegance of his fashionable jacket, frothy white shirt, dark breeches, and black boots.

“What kind of tidbit?” Bryce asked. His voice held a note of anticipation as he accepted rolled sheaves of paper from the other man.

“Lord Galloway’s money is invested heavily in an Englishman, Thomas Savery, an inventor who a few years back patented a device called the steam pump. From the looks of things, the earl is poised to receive a fortune for his investment.”

“God’s teeth,” Bryce erupted. “News like that will not help me annihilate my competition.”

The man shrugged. “You paid me to find out about them. I never promised it would be bad news.”

“Go on,” Bryce said on a sigh.

“Jules MacIntyre’s release from prison did not come at his father’s hand, but through an unknown source that I traced back to Edinburgh.”

“Do you have any leads on who it was yet?”

“Nay,” the man said. “I have several inquiries out. Someone will talk soon. We must be patient.”

“Patience is not one of my virtues. What about the others?”

“Colin Taylor is the most interesting of the lot. He has no past. I could only trace him to a foundling home in Glasgow which he left at a young age to squire for Lord Pickering. It is quite remarkable he was able to do something so distinguished. Such privileges are reserved for titled sons.”

Bryce nodded.

“Sir David Buchanan has been known to wager a fair bit in the last several years. But he is still quite flush despite his losses.”

“And Nicholas Kincaid?” Bryce asked. “There must be something there. What about the reports of a dalliance he once had with my cousin? Did you find anything to substantiate those rumors?”

The stranger shook his head. “No one knows where those rumors started. And about the man himself, I talked to several of his retired staff. They were all very close-lipped when it came to talking about his past—almost as if it pained
them
to talk about it.”

Bryce frowned. “And you did not pursue it further? That is what I am paying you for,” he ground out. “I need more. Go back and fulfill your task.”

The stranger recoiled. “I have done my duty, just as you demanded. Do not blame me if there is nothing further to be dragged out of the people who know these men.”

“And the will?” Bryce nodded to the papers in his hands. “Is there any news there?”

The stranger frowned. “His Lordship sealed up his daughter’s inheritance right and tight if, after he is declared dead, she marries before Christmas Day. But if she doesn’t marry by the stroke of midnight on Christmas Eve, for any reason, the title and the estate pass to you.”

Even at a distance, Colin could tell Bryce’s expression was one of pleasure. “All right, Barker, you did well with the will. However, I’ll not be paying you a farthing more until you dig up something useful on these men. I need to know exactly who they are and how they can be blackmailed into ceasing their pursuit of Lady Jane.”

Colin kept silent as the minutes ticked by while Bryce and his investigator arranged their next meeting two nights hence then said their good-byes. Deep in thought, Bryce stalked back to the castle.

Colin waited only until Bryce had passed before heading after the investigator. He intended not only to foil Bryce’s plans to dig up dirt on his competitors, but also to know more of what the man had found out about his own
life. If the investigator had discovered even the smallest of clues, it would be more than Colin had ever had.

And if he was determined not to talk, a few nights of isolation in Bellhaven’s dungeon might loosen the man’s tongue.

Jane lit the last of many candles and stood back to observe the labyrinth in the chapel. It took up the entire surface of the floor at over forty feet in width and length. There were no sides to this maze. The pre-Christian design had been adopted by her ancestors, no doubt in imitation of the Chartres cruciform labyrinth. Just like the meditation maze in France, this one was open, and one or more persons could walk the path at the same time.

She had no idea which of her ancestors had carved the meditative path into the stone floor during his lifetime, but the creation dated somewhere in the twelfth century, around the time when Richard Lennox had ruled over Bellhaven. She had always assumed it had been his creation. Why he had built the concentric circles on the floor of the chapel, she knew not either. But she had always been grateful for the time she and her mother had spent here in contemplation and prayer.

Jane removed her shoes, then stepped up to the path that would take her inside the labyrinth. She took her first chilly step onto the path and tried to clear her mind. A tiny gulping sound of grief escaped her and a single tear rolled down her cheek as she allowed the memories of her mother to wash over her.

No matter how much she wanted the stories of her mother’s ghost to be true, she knew they were not. If her mother were still in this world, she would know. It would be the same sensation she felt now, the same conviction that told her her father and brother were not yet gone from this life. She still felt them deep within her soul.

The cool stone chilled the bottom of her feet through her stockings as Jane took slow, even steps through the winding path. She allowed her progress to calm her as the yellow-gold light of the candles illuminated her way. She quieted her mind, only aware of her breath as it filled her body then forced its way out.

Silence surrounded her. The muscles in her neck and shoulders began to relax, and her thoughts shifted from her mother to Nicholas. They had both driven her here tonight, but it was Nicholas who remained with her. Was she ready to confront what she and Nicholas had been? What they still could be if only she let him back into her heart?

Was it the competition that had him pursuing her—the threat of someone else vying for her affections? Would he make her want him again, body and soul, only to deny her in the end?

Or was it something more—something she dared hope for?

“Jane?” A soft voice broke through her thoughts.

Nicholas
. Had she conjured him with her thoughts?

“Jane.” The voice came again.

Jane stopped walking and turned slowly toward the chapel door. Nicholas stood there, his features softened, and for a heartbeat she saw not only sadness, but fear, before the look vanished.

“Why did you follow me?” she asked, forcing back a twinge of annoyance at his invasion of her sacred space.

“You should not be alone. You should never be alone until we find who is after you.”

“I am not alone. I am with God.”

“God cannot stop a flying dagger,” he growled beneath his breath. He strode toward her, onto the labyrinth.

“Stop.”

He halted. His brows drew together.

“If you want to talk to me here, you have to walk the path. But first you must remove your boots.”

He frowned down at the floor, then took several steps back toward the opening in the concentric circles. “Surely you jest?”

“No. I am quite serious.” She saw the uncertainty in his gaze, felt his hesitation. “The labyrinth can be very inspiring if you give it a chance.”

Silence settled heavy between them.

With a sigh, he bent down and removed his boots, set them aside and took a step. He hurried along the path.

“Slow down,” she said in a calm, serene tone. “Use the path for reflection or inspiration.”

He was silent for another long moment before he said, “Can we talk as we both walk?”

“No.” She gave him a quick, teasing smile. “Not one word until we both reach the center.”

“The center?” he groaned.

“Let the path give you whatever it is you need.” The conversation flowed between them as it used to with no tension or reserve.

“I need you to listen to me,” he said.

“Only after you have quieted your mind and listened to your soul.” She drew a steadying breath and started back on her journey toward the center, weaving back and forth along the circuitous path.

“Another challenge for me alone?”

She stopped and gave him a measured look. “We could bring the others here if you would prefer.”

“No,” he replied quickly, and started walking, more slowly this time. “I want you all to myself.”

Jane hid a smile. She and Nicholas walked in silence. As they traveled toward the center, they passed each other once, twice, three times. Their hands brushed. Their gazes met. Her heart fluttered, and she could feel the tension thrumming between them. The sound of her own heartbeat echoed in her ears, matching her steps. She increased her pace.

Nicholas’s stride lengthened and his gaze shifted from warm to molten gold as she reached the center and waited for him there. Each step he took seemed to take a lifetime, until finally he entered the center and stood across from her.

He drew her to him, lifted her hand, and brought it to his lips. His eyes locked with hers. He kissed her fingertips, then turned her hand and pressed his lips to her palm. He let them linger just long enough for her to remember what his kisses had been like, to feel his heat.