Jumping in Puddles (16 page)

She came fast, was so responsive, he couldn’t help but follow.
Christ, I’d follow her anywhere
. Ellie clung to his shoulders and gasped her release as he spurted into her, her muscles milking the cum from him. How many times had he emptied himself into her? He’d never had so much sex in one night. They rested forehead to forehead until their breathing eased, and then Ellie let her legs down and he slipped from inside her. Jago held her tight and pressed his lips to her temple.

“I don’t need to get a new alarm clock anymore,” he said. “I’ve found the perfect replacement.”

Ellie giggled.

They fooled around in the shower, fooled around some more in his bedroom, and when he next looked at the clock, it was nine.

“I really do need to get out of bed,” he said, but didn’t move.

“I have to check nothing else needs doing in the garden.” And she
did
move.

Jago moaned.

“One of us has to get up. And you said you’d show me the baron’s hall.”

He rolled out of bed and pulled on his pants and shirt. As Ellie bent to fasten her sandals, his cock stirred, and he swallowed his sigh. It might be a long time before he could look at her bare butt without getting an erection.

Jago moved her hair out of the way, kissed her neck, and zipped her up. “Go and get changed. You can’t pick strawberries dressed like that. Ask Henry if we’re okay to use the Land Rover, and when you come back, I’ll show you one of the best-preserved examples of fourteenth-century domestic architecture in the country. Hurry.”

“Yes, master.”

He smacked her on the butt and she squealed.

Jago went to the door with her and after a long kiss, finally let her go. As she walked down the drive, he saw Preston heading toward him.
Bugger.

LAST NIGHT SEEMED like a dream to Ellie, a very erotic dream. Even thinking about it made her cheeks heat, though guilt swirled with the pleasure. She was supposed to stay a virgin. She remembered the day her father and mother had sat her down and told her the facts of life, showed her the book, and explained her destiny. Her siblings could have sex with whomever they wanted, but not Ellie. Her father had stressed the importance of having her virginity to offer when she searched for a mate in what she’d been told was a promiscuous Faerieland. Her purity in exchange for the downside of a life this side. Not that she actually thought it was a downside, but then she’d never been to Faerieland. Maybe it was fantastic over there.

Well, her virginity was gone. She’d broken the rule, and she had no regrets.

Not exactly.

But her mother and father would be so disappointed. She straightened her shoulders. Tough. This had been her choice.

She pressed her palm against her pocket and felt the outline of the ring. Losing her virginity made finding the Kewen even more important. Pointless not to make the most of this opportunity while Jago was otherwise occupied. She made her way to the baron’s hall. The door was locked, and after checking she was unobserved, Ellie used magic to unlock it, slipped inside, and closed it behind her.

The sight that greeted her was stunning. The great hall had a vast arching roof supported by wooden beams and looked a little like a church. Light streamed through tall gothic windows that almost reached the floor. There were long trestle tables on each side of the room and a smaller table on a raised dais at the far end. At her back and above her was a minstrels’ gallery. Ellie stepped forward, hoping for some tingle of recognition, some sense that the Kewen might be here, but felt nothing but awe for the age and majesty of the room and a little attack of nerves in case she was discovered here.

When it was built, the hall would have been the focal point of the house, the place where those who served the manor ate, slept, gave birth, and eventually died. The solar, where Jago had set up home, was at the back of the minstrels’ gallery and would have been where the family of the house slept.

Ellie wandered around the edge looking for marks on the floor or wall that might indicate the stones had been interfered with and something hidden, though if it had been anything obvious, wouldn’t others have found it before her? After she’d done a circuit and discovered nothing, sensed nothing, she walked back and forth across the flagstones. The reaction when it came almost took her out at the knees.
Christ
. Her heart pounded hard enough to hurt as adrenaline flooded her body. She went hot and dizzy just as she had when she’d first seen the ring, but this reaction was far more powerful, shock so overwhelming, it paralyzed her. Invisible threads wrapped around her ankles and coiled up her legs, squeezing, climbing, holding her in place, choking the air from her lungs. Then as suddenly as the feeling had come, it vanished.

After she’d sucked in air, Ellie looked down. There was no disturbance on the floor, no sign of anything being wrong, but something was. She looked up and saw a relatively modern roof lantern immediately overhead. Had there once been a hole in the ceiling? She might be standing over an old fireplace. Or was there a cellar below?

* * * *

“What do you mean you don’t want to sell?” Preston glared at him across the entrance hall. “I made you a fair offer.”

“I—”

“Look, Lord Carlyle, this place needs more than a lick of paint from college students. It needs professionals. You and your brother can keep a wing. I won’t change the name of the place. This is going to be an exclusive development.” Preston started to cough. “I’ll give you…a little longer…to think about it.”

The coughing continued, and the man began to wheeze. As he staggered toward the door, Jago caught his arm and helped him outside.

“Do you have asthma, any allergies?” he asked.

Preston shook his head. His breathing seemed to have eased since he’d moved out of the hall. He straightened up. “Must have inhaled a fly. Think about what I’ve said. I’ll be in touch.”

“The answer’s no,” Jago said. “I’m not selling, not at the moment.”

Preston smiled. “We’ll see.”

Jago glowered as the guy pulled away, his tires spitting gravel. The guy had increased his offer, which had surprised him. He made his way back to the solar and sighed when he took in again how tidy it was. If only she’d asked him, there’d have been no problem.

He picked up the surfboard to move it back over the squint and froze. Ellie stood in the middle of the hall looking up at the ceiling. He always kept the baron’s hall locked. How the hell had Ellie gotten in there?
He’d
wanted to show her round. It was one of the most impressive parts of Sharwood.

She dropped to a crouch and ran her hands over the floor. A worm of doubt nibbled at his gut. In all the sex he’d forgotten his suspicions, forgotten what Henry had told him, partly because he wanted it not to be true. He had the proof now. She was looking for something. But what?

Chapter Twelve

With a flick of her fingers, Ellie locked up the baron’s hall and went outside into the garden. The jittery feeling had come back. Every part of her seemed to be trembling, not just her arms and legs but her internal organs. She was almost certain the Kewen was under the floor in the hall and so powerful, it had set every nerve jumping. Maybe the reason she was anxious now was because she’d walked away from it. If she
had
found it, how did she feel about that?

She should be happy. Her family had been exiled because of its loss, and now she’d found it.
Whoopee.

But Ellie didn’t feel happy. Suddenly, everything wasn’t so simple.

“Are you okay?”

She looked up to see Henry approaching.

“Fine,” she muttered.

“You’re shaking, and you’re white as a sheet.” His face was full of concern. “Has Jago upset you?”

“No.”

“Where is he? I thought you were going to pick strawberries.”

“He’s busy. I don’t know how long he’ll be.” Suddenly, getting away from Sharwood seemed like the best idea in the world. “Could you give me a lift to Birstwith? I could get started with the picking.”

“Sorry. I’m waiting for Diane to arrive with the chairs and tables.”

“Oh, okay.”

“You sure you’re all right, Ellie?”

She nodded.

“Once Diane gets here and I have things sorted, I’ll take you.”

Henry headed to where Gavin and James were trimming borders, and Ellie made her way to the gatehouse.

The laptop sat on the counter, and she opened it to search for a taxi company. She had to leave right now. She couldn’t think. She didn’t want to think. When the screen lit up, she recoiled in shock. Henry had Googled her. Plenty of pages of Ellie Norwoods, but he wouldn’t find the one he was looking for, and that was the problem. A business like hers and no Web site had to set alarm bells ringing.

She called a cab company that took credit cards, deleted her search from the history, and closed the laptop. Henry didn’t trust her. What had she done? Or not done? Had that little spell to make him forget reversed itself? She wasn’t an expert in using magic. Maybe her question about the ring alarmed him. She pushed her credit card into the pocket holding the ring, locked up the house, and walked round the corner to the road.

Diane drove past and waved, her car followed by a truck carrying stacks of chairs. Ellie hoped everything went smoothly tomorrow. Maybe Jago ought to speak to the farmer who owned the field across the road and ask if people could park there if they ran out of space down by the gatehouse. Did they need someone in charge of parking? Probably. Ellie sighed. Someone who knew what they were doing would have thought of all this. She was a fraud. No wonder Henry was suspicious.

A taxi slowed and she waved.

“Birstwith?” asked the elderly guy.

“Yes, please.” Ellie sat in the front. “The pick-your-own farm.”

* * * *

When she told the farm’s owners how many baskets of strawberries she needed to pick, they laughed and told her she’d never manage it. Ellie smiled politely, negotiated a discount on a bulk purchase, and arranged to store the fruit in the corner of their barn until she finished.

The best strawberries were in the rows farthest away, so she had quite a walk to get there. Fortunately not many people were around, so Ellie used a touch of magic to speed up her picking. And while she picked, she pondered.

If her father were here, he’d tell her to find a way to get under the stone floor and confirm what she suspected. Once she had the Kewen, she should return home and then take it to Faerieland, where they’d welcome her with open arms and the rest of them would be welcomed too.

Actually, Ellie wondered about that. Would they be welcomed? If those in charge in Faerieland saw the return of the Kewen as nothing more than putting right a wrong done by her family, why would they be pleased to see the Norwoods again?

On the plus side, she’d no longer be forced to go back and find a husband prepared to live on this side with little power and no family while she continued the search.

Her mother and father would be ecstatic at the news. Pixie would probably hate it on principle because she lived to annoy. Ellie had no idea what Asher and Micah would think. Would any of them be allowed to stay on this side if they wanted to? What if some were allowed to stay and not others? It would create a rift in the family. Though Ellie had a horrible suspicion there’d be no choice. They’d all have to return.

The alternative? She could keep quiet. She’d not actually seen the Kewen. Furthermore, it might not be there. It could be something else making her feel strange. She’d had a similar reaction when she’d confronted the zombie who wanted to date Pixie, and if she was in the vicinity of vampires, every hair on her body prickled. But if she lied to her father and said the Kewen wasn’t at Sharwood, would he believe her or come see for himself?

Question after question flooded her mind. What if there was some protection over it designed to destroy whoever disturbed it? What if she took the Kewen out and gave it Jago? He could sell it and do everything he wanted to Sharwood Hall. He could be a doctor again.

But once the jewels showed up in the market, which they would when Jago sold them, the elders would discover she’d lied, and they’d punish her and her family. Maybe she could change the setting of the jewels, disguise them in some way? But she couldn’t change the fact that they had their own energy, and in any case, they weren’t hers to meddle with.

Who did they belong to? The fae? But they were on Jago’s property, and theoretically, didn’t that make them his? The fae couldn’t take him to court to claim they were stolen. How could they prove it? Was there any way of finding out what role Jago’s family played in the taking of the Kewen.

She wished she could stop her mind racing.

Ellie inadvertently squashed a strawberry in her fingers and popped it in her mouth. Maybe she ought to try to find out
why
the Kewen was in Sharwood Hall. That might help her decide what to do.

You have no choice. There is no decision to be made.

She thought about her parents, her grandparents, their parents, her potential child all looking for the Kewen, and here she was trying to think of a way
not
to find it. When it occurred to her that maybe they’d failed for the same reason, she squashed another strawberry. Could be they hadn’t
wanted
to find it. Her father did. She could lie, tell him the ring had been bought overseas by Henry’s mother at some auction. No details known. And then the search would continue, and she’d have to pretend until it was time for her to find a husband and—Ellie bit her lip as tears threatened.

Oh hell. What shall I do? What the fuck shall I do?
She worked faster and faster dropping the strawberries into the basket. First thing was to check that it
was
the Kewen, because if it wasn’t, she’d won a reprieve.

* * * *

By the time Jago went down to the baron’s hall, Ellie had gone. Had he really seen her? He turned in a circle in the center of the room wondering what she was looking for. Portraits of his ancestors hung on the walls. None were worth much. The oldest painting was of Sir Robert Westerham. He’d been given Sharwood by Edward VI, heir of Henry VIII, and it had been passed to Robert’s son Sidney, who was nowhere near as good-looking as the horse he sat on, though he was apparently popular in the court of Elizabeth I. The next portrait was of Sidney’s son, James, who, as the history books told it, was the personification of virtue, chivalry, and nobility. James died shortly after his father, and the estate passed to his brother Edward.