A Laird for Christmas (30 page)

Nicholas dropped to his knees, inspecting the floor. He ran his fingers over the wooden floorboards. Rough texture brushed his fingertips, then suddenly something smooth. He grabbed the candle and inspected it more closely. Fine lines were etched into the floor. He followed the lines to an almost imperceptible crack in the wall. Slowly creeping his fingers up the wall, he came to a small pebble that stood out from the surface.

He pressed.

A door swung open easily, and noiselessly, on well-oiled hinges.

Nicholas stood in the opening to reveal a black space that ran alongside the stone of the hearth.

A secret passageway. Grasping the candle, he stepped inside.

Jane eased herself into the steaming water of her bath and forced a stab of disappointment away. She was grateful to Nicholas for this time alone. She had had so little time to herself since her suitors had arrived at Bellhaven. Even so, the thought did not quell the sensation of loneliness that enveloped her.

With a sigh, Jane settled back against the copper tub, hoping the scented steam would work its magic. Before her suitors had arrived at the castle, she had had no idea how alone she had been, or how isolated she had forced herself to become.

She closed her eyes. In two days’ time, she would no longer be alone. She would be married.

And despite his winning only one challenge so far, she knew which of her suitors her bridegroom would be.

Her heart had decided long ago.

A creak sounded, a whoosh of cool air shimmered across her skin, and she sensed a presence.

Jane startled and reached for the linen sheet draped at the edge of the copper tub. “Who is there?” Where had she set her dagger?

She pressed the sheet to her breasts, shielding herself, then twisted to look behind her.

Nicholas
. Her pulse danced and skittered at the sight of him.

He stood by the hearth, frowning. Behind him was a gaping hole in the wall. “Good heavens.” Her eyes widened. “A secret chamber?”

“Aye. It leads from Bryce’s chamber to yours.” His gaze warmed at the sight of her.

“Turn around,” she commanded.

He turned.

She stood and wrapped the bath sheet around herself.

“Who assigned the bedchambers to your guests?” he asked, his tone harsh.

“I did, and believe me, when I did, I had no idea there was a direct route from Bryce to me.” She shivered at the thought of who might have entered her chamber unbeknownst to her. She shivered again as she stared at the lean backside of the man who had entered her chamber now.

“Keep your back turned,” she insisted as she dropped the bath sheet, replacing it with a dressing gown. She picked up the towel and rubbed it against the ends of her hair that had dipped into the tub. She had just finished toweling her hair dry when he turned around, his eyes searching hers.

He came forward and took the linen from her hand and tossed it aside. He lifted his hand and ran his finger along her jawline. His calloused finger was rough against her flesh, sending chills through her. She knew he wanted to kiss her, and she was amazed by how much she wanted to kiss him.

But he did not kiss her. He simply waited, staring at her with those dark, hungry eyes.

Then he ran the pad of his thumb over her lips and she barely bit back a moan at how good it felt, at how good he smelled, at the tension that rippled between them. The force of it took her breath away.

Just when she thought he would kiss her, he pulled away and shut the false wall. “I need to block this opening so that it can never be opened again from the inside.”

Her heart pounding, she nodded. “Let me help you.”

Together, they found a thin piece of wood in the holder near the hearth. Reaching for her dagger that she had left on the floor near the pile of her clothes, he whittled the wood down. Before he slipped the wood under the door, he took her hand and guided it toward a lever alongside the fireplace. “In case you ever need this tunnel,” he explained, “push the small mechanism and the door should spring free.”

She nodded as he slipped the wedge of wood under the edge of the door, effectively blocking it from opening.

“There,” he said, standing back to admire his work. “That should keep whoever is using the tunnel out.”

“You are certain someone is using the tunnel?”

He nodded. “There were no cobwebs over the pathway and footsteps showed in the dust on the floor. Though the chamber most likely originated during the last century, it has been used much more recently.”

Calmly she met Nicholas’s gaze. “I am glad it was you who came through the passageway and not someone else.”

He gave her a smile, but it slipped away. “I have a feeling there are more tunnels like this one throughout the castle.”

She frowned. “Then we will find them and block each of them as we do.” She hesitated a moment, thinking of the implication of the secret tunnels. “If there are a series of them, then that certainly explains how someone can appear then disappear all of a sudden.”

“But that person would need to have a history of this place to accomplish that task.” Nicholas’s brows knit together. “If you did not know about the tunnels, then who else did? Your father, your brother, Bryce?” He shook his head at that. “Bryce seemed genuinely baffled by the idea of secret tunnels earlier.”

Jane pressed her lips tight. She refused to accept that any of them would use the tunnels to cause harm. “I believe in Bryce’s innocence. I think he is just as in the dark about the true nature of this castle as I am.”

A scowl darkened Nicholas’s features. “I do not understand the man. I have no idea if he is good or bad.”

Jane shrugged. “I imagine it is somewhere in between, as we all are. I do not think life has been entirely kind to him. That fact has made him cynical and angry.”

Nicholas ran a hand through his hair. “The anger I can understand.” He paused, then after a long moment continued, “I do not know whether to trust him or not.”

“I do,” Jane said quietly.

“He will have to prove it to me.”

“He will, in time.”

With a weary sigh, Nicholas moved to tend the fire that had died down during her bath. “You always did have a soft heart, especially for the downtrodden.”

Her thoughts shifted from Bryce to the Nicholas of her past. He had been handsome and charming and breathtaking upon his arrival. Yet in the days that had followed, she had also seen another side of him; one that was much more fragile than he would ever admit. She could sense deep suffering in him.

She flinched. Was that the reason he had taken her brother’s dismissal from Bellhaven so hard? Did his pain go so deep that he could not tolerate even one more rejection?

Jane stepped closer to the flames, closer to Nicholas, and ran her fingers through her wet hair, watching him stoke the fire. She became acutely conscious of the strength of his hands as he spread the coals, then added more
wood. Flames leapt and writhed on the long-dry wood. But it was not the flames that drew her attention.

She watched the muscles of his thighs peek out from beneath his plaid, the bunching of his shoulders beneath his soft linen shirt as he settled the screen back into place. Suddenly, she wanted to reach out and touch him, freely, as she had in the past when it was just the two of them. As she had just last night.

“Nicholas,” she asked, stepping closer to him. “Will you answer a question for me?”

He stood and turned toward her. “What kind of question?”

“About your past. Your darkness.” Their gazes met, locked. She could not breathe. She could not look away.

“What about it?” His voice was low, filled with sudden tension.

She reached up and cupped his stubbled chin with her palm. His eyes held a thousand emotions, making her ache all the way to her toes.

“Why did you come to Bellhaven in the first place?”

“Because I had to get away.”

“Away from what?”

“It matters not.” He pressed his hand to her cheek, then let it travel down her neck, to her collarbone, her shoulder, her arm. His lips followed the same path. “This is all that matters,” he whispered against her neck.

A soft burr sounded in his voice as it did when he was aroused; she had learned that last night. A primal shudder ran through her at the thought. Her nipples hardened, pushing against the soft linen of her dressing gown.

He pulled back and looked in her eyes. He was waiting, watching her, allowing her to make the decision if they moved forward or back. His eyes said it all; desire dwelled there, with no barriers, no walls, simply stark and hopeful.

He reached for her hand but did not draw her to him. Again he waited for her to respond. His eyes locked on hers as he brought her fingertips to his mouth and kissed each one. He let his lips linger just long enough for her to feel their heat.

Jane closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation. Without her vision, her senses sharpened. The scent of cinnamon, bay leaves, and maleness wrapped around her. The sound of the fire crackling and popping in the hearth came to her ears. Warmth from the flames bathed her flesh.

Jane knew she should not fall into his arms again tonight. It was getting harder and harder to pull herself away and act like she did not care. She tried to focus on anything other than the sensation of his lips as they moved from the back of her hand to her wrist. Her pulse leapt wildly at his soft caress. His lips moved over her skin, not with expectancy, but with a gentle promise of more to come.

He drew her closer still, not seducing, but luring her closer to what her head might protest, but her body desired above anything else. When she made no attempt to step away, his lips came down.

Soft kisses rained upon her forehead, her cheeks, her nose, her chin, before he captured her lips. Heat flashed through her, a welcome heat, a heat that had become a part of her existence.

“Tonight, let us throw logic to the wind and let our passion be enough.”

She opened her eyes and studied him. “Will that be enough?”

He kissed her again, a light, sweet, tantalizing touch that made her senses soar.

He did not answer her.

She let the question go unanswered as she slipped her hand inside his shirt and splayed her fingers across his chest, each finger as hot as a brand on his chest.

She deepened the kiss and let the passion she always tried to rein in when he held her spill unbidden into her every response. Lovingly, he pulled her against him, deepening their kiss degree by degree, until a tide of longing swept them both away, swept away all restraint, all thought, until there was only sensation to cling to.

He was hers for tonight, for forever, if she only said the words. No matter how much she tried, she could not hold herself apart from him. She wanted to
bury herself deep inside him, so deep that she could not tell where he began and she ended.

Slowly he lowered himself to his knees on the rug near the fire, and she followed him, her fingers still exploring the hard surfaces of his chest, his shoulders, his back that lay hidden from her beneath his soft linen shirt. Then, suddenly, she grew restless as the fabric became a barrier to her desire. She unpinned the brooch that held his plaid on his shoulder. Released from the binding fabric, she easily worked his shirt up over his head.

He found her lips and kissed her again, slowly, hungrily as he lowered his hands to her dressing gown and released the tie. He slid the garment over her shoulders, down her arms, down her body until it slithered over her hips and down her legs to pool at her knees, leaving her naked.

His kisses grew hungrier, more demanding, as he held her close enough for the peaks of her breasts to brush against the soft hair of his chest. She shivered at the sensation and tried to pull herself against him, but he held her back, staring down at her as he never had before.

“You are so beautiful,” he said, his voice a throaty whisper. In the glimmer of firelight, he bent down and kissed the soft swell of one breast, then the other.

She shivered and released a tiny moan, then arched slightly toward him. He took a nipple in his mouth and rolled the sensitive bud with his tongue. He claimed first one, then the other, until her senses reeled on the outer edges of a vortex of pleasure where only he could take her.

He lowered her from her knees to recline on the rug, then stretched out beside her. His lips returned to her lips, her neck, ignited a trail of sensation from her chin, across her neck, and over her shoulders. His hands slowly traced her waist, her hips. He claimed every inch of her skin, slowly, sculpting her with languid thoroughness, as though he were taking his time to learn every nuance of her body, every intimate detail. His fingers traced the outline of her buttocks and her back.

Her hands were on his shoulders as he stoked the heat rising within her to a fevered pitch until sensation after sensation rocked her.

She gazed into his eyes, watched their color grow darker, stormier as he shifted above her. Jane moaned at the feel of his hard, lean body on top of hers. Heat from the fire encircled them, warming them as she wrapped her legs around his hips.

He was all sinewy power, and it rippled from his body into hers. She ached to feel him inside of her, ached to claim him as her champion. She could do no such thing just yet. If she showed her heart, revealed her intentions, Nicholas would be at risk. And she could bear almost anything except losing him again. Perhaps this time to death.

Slowly, carefully, he worked his way down her body again as he held her gaze, looking at her with a raw possessiveness that stole her breath. His hands burned her as he ran them beneath her buttocks. He slid his tongue down her hipbone to her thigh. He spread her legs wider and slowly kissed his way up her inner thigh. She held her breath, writhing in anticipation of his touch as his hands slid beneath her, gripped her bottom, shifted her up and he set his mouth to her most secret core.

On a half gasp, half moan, she let her head loll back. He tasted her there, everywhere. Jane cried out as a wave of heat rose, then broke over her, and ecstasy rolled through her. She lay there consumed by the heat of passion. When she could take no more without giving in return, she reached for him. He rose upward, his hungry gaze feasting on hers. “Look at me, Jane. I need to see you when I take you as mine.”