The Magic Knot (4 page)

Niall strode down the short corridor to the pub’s kitchen, pushed open the door, and paused on the threshold. Of all the irresponsible idiots…How could Michael have let himself get into so much debt that the bank would send a snoop to poke into the business and put Ana at risk of exposure?

Michael sat brooding at the pine table in the center of the room, cradling a mug of coffee between his hands. A woman unloading the dishwasher looked up and gave a tentative smile. There were always too many damn people about the place when he needed to speak to Michael privately. They’ have to take this little discussion outside.

“I believe you have something to tell me,” he said as he grabbed a fistful of Michael’s shirt, hauled him out of his seat, and shoved him toward the back door.

“Hey, watch the coffee, boyo,” Michael grumbled as Niall propelled him outside into the sharp, clear autumn morning. Michael fussed with his shirt and shot Niall an irritated glance. “You got out of an empty bed again, I’ll wager.”

Niall grabbed a breath of cold air to calm himself, walked to the corner of the building, and then stared at the glassy surface of the river. “Sex is not the answer to every question.”

Michael came up beside him and flashed a grin. “Naw. But get enough sex, and all those troublesome little questions float out of your mind entirely.”

When would his brother grow up? With a resigned
sigh, Niall let go of his anger. He eased back against the wall. “Why did you not tell me you’ defaulted on the loan? You surely knew I’d help.”

Michael shrugged, lit his cigarette, and blew a stream of blue smoke into the crisp morning air. “’Tis always the same with you, Mr. High-and-Mighty-Everything-I-Touch-Turns-to-Bloody-Gold. You’re always after being in control.”

“How do you intend to rid us of the lass poking around in the office? ’Tis a genuine miracle if you know where your last three years’ accounts are.”

“Don’t need them, boyo. Don’t need them. I’m going to work a little magic on the lass. After a few nights in me bed, she won’t give a jot for the accounts.”

Niall stared at Michael incredulously. Was his brother really as stupid as he sounded? “Rose Tremain is not some starry-eyed tourist you can bounce on your bed and pack off home with a sparkle in her eye. Don’t even think about using your glamour on her.”

Michael stared at his feet and kicked a tuft of grass. “Truth be told, I gave the lass a taste when she first stepped foot in the place.”

“Great Danu!” Niall pushed away from the wall and gripped Michael’s arm. “Please tell me you weren’t fool enough to take it too far?”

Michael looked at the glowing tip of his cigarette, then flicked it into the water. “I gave her the twinkle of me eye and nothing happened. That lass has a will of iron, to be sure.”

That wasn’t possible. Michael’s glamour was infamous in the Irish fairy court. He could enthrall all humans and even weak fairies. “If Rose Tremain wasn’t mesmerized, there has to be a reason. Either the lass knows you’re of the Good People and protected herself
with a charm, or she carries fairy blood. And I’ll wager that woman is no fairy. We’ have sensed it.” Niall tapped his fist against the wall. “Only one conclusion comes to mind: Ciar is behind this visit in some way. Aye, Rose Tremain is not to be trusted.”

Michael made a derisive noise. “Is it sure you are?” He rolled his eyes heavenward. “Sweet bejesus, Niall. You see the Queen of Nightmares around every corner. Rose Tremain’s nothing grander than a glorified bean counter in a boring blue suit with a boring, practical haircut.”

Niall thought of the stately lass he’d seen in the office that morning, with moss green eyes and short auburn hair—practical, yes, boring, no. She had plenty of spark in her. Although when he considered the questions she’d asked, it was obvious Michael was right: she gave no indication she was anything more than an accountant.

Rose Tremain’s visit might be innocent, but he couldn’t risk the chance that she would rout out financial details about Hedgehog Cottage that would lead to his sister. “What ever she is, I’m after getting rid of her as soon as possible. I don’t want her finding out about Ana. If Ciar ever discovered where she is—”

“Saints in heaven preserve us!” Michael tossed down another cigarette butt and stamped it into the grass. “’Tis always about Ana. You dragged me out of me beloved Ireland because of Ana.”

“Ciar could easily have taken it into her head to hurt you as well. When I rejected her, her curses could have stripped the fur off a cat.”

Michael stamped his foot like an angry child. “My queen would never hurt me. Anyway, Troy would not see me harmed.”

The bitter taste of rejection rose like bile in Niall’s throat. Troy might be their father, but from personal experience, Niall knew he would turn his back on them if it suited him.

“Ciar has probably long since forgotten you,” Michael said. “What makes you think you’re so fine a fellow she’ll bother with you now you’re gone?”

Niall didn’t think he was fine or important. But he was certain Ciar’s pride would prompt her to hunt him down and punish him for spurning her. No one turned down the fairy queen and survived unscathed. And if Niall wasn’t available, Ciar had left him in no doubt that she’d delight in hurting those he loved.

Niall straightened his cuffs to ensure that his knives were concealed. “Here’s what’s going to happen. I’ll transfer enough money to pay off your loan. Then I’ll take a ride to Lostwithiel and fetch accounting copies from Radcliffs. That should be enough to satisfy Rose Tremain, if the lass is genuine.”

Niall grasped his brother’s shoulder. “While I’m gone, be mindful of how you answer her questions. Don’t go telling her about me computer, nor that I gave you the Porsche. If she asks about the money I’ve paid into the business, tell the lass to speak to me when I get back.”

Michael frowned. “What money might that be?”

Niall resisted the urge to shake his brother; it wasn’t Michael’s fault he’d been mollycoddled. Sometimes Niall thought his father had done him a favor when he’d abandoned him. “No matter. Tell you what: don’t answer any questions. When I get back from me jaunt, I’ll speak with her.”

After striding into the kitchen, Niall made a quick phone call to transfer money, and then fetched his helmet
and jacket. He’d stop briefly at Hedgehog Cottage to check on Ana, then go to Lostwithiel. He glanced at the clock above the fridge. If he got the accounts to Rose Tremain by lunchtime, then gave her a hand in the afternoon, they should be rid of her by evening.

Rose froze beside her car in the parking lot, the packet of mints she’d come to fetch clutched against her chest. Her mind was buzzing with the snatches of Niall and Michael’s conversation that the breeze had carried from behind the pub. With his own words, Niall O’Connor had confirmed that he was hiding facts from her. Where did he get his money? Why was he hiding it? Maybe he was a criminal on the run. He did have an air of danger about him. She shivered with a mixture of fear and fascination.

Michael had told her the truth last night. Niall owned a computer, and he didn’t want her to check it. Part of her wanted to confront him, but direct confrontation might not be the most effective tactic, especially when she wasn’t sure of her facts. She rubbed at a spot of tension in her neck. If she checked his computer, she’d have a better idea what she was dealing with.

What if she discovered he was on the wrong side of the law? Rose glanced at the back corner of the pub. A chill trickled down her spine. She’d just have to contact the police.

After closing her car door quietly, she thumbed the remote lock on her key and returned to the office. Next, she had to find Niall’s computer. As if thinking of the man conjured him up, the roar of his motorcycle engine outside rattled the office window.

She checked her watch. The round trip to Lostwithiel
and a visit to the accountant shouldn’t take him longer than an hour. There was no time to waste.

With notebook in hand, she headed through the reception hall and climbed two flights of stairs to the swing door marked, PRIVATE. She knocked, hoping Michael was busy downstairs. After thirty seconds with no response, she pushed open the door and called his name. Her heart beat a dull thud in her ears as she listened to the silence.

Rose crept up the steps to the top floor, then gazed down the hallway. Four doors stood ajar, two on either side. The first two led into a small sitting room and a bathroom, respectively. A stifling cocktail of women’s perfumes and cigarettes emanated from the third room. She wrinkled her nose and risked a peek. Black satin sheets and a gold headboard made her think of a bordello—so probably Michael’s bedroom. She closed the door and headed for the fourth room.

Panic pulsed in her throat as she eased the door open. Although she knew Niall was out, her hand trembled on the knob. This wasn’t her usual modus operandi. But then, Niall O’Connor wasn’t the usual type of client.

Drawing a deep breath, she willed herself to be calm. The room was plain and reasonably tidy. No clothes lay on the tan carpet, and the bed was neatly covered with a navy bedspread. “Bingo,” she whispered at the sight of the laptop computer on the pine desk beneath the window on the far side of the bed.

After a glance at her watch, she took a seat and twitched the mouse to bring the screen to life. A password request flashed up. Rose tapped her nails on the desk. She should have expected Niall to be security-conscious. Now she was stumped.

On impulse, she typed in
Elephant’s Nest
and hit enter. When that didn’t work, she tried
Niall O’Connor
backward, then a few name combinations without success.

Frustrated, she fluffed her hair and glanced around for inspiration. Wintry sun glittered off the top of a small wooden box on the windowsill.
Pick it up
, a voice said in her head. Trusting her intuition, she did so. The top was decorated with a silver shield bearing the heraldic symbols of an oak tree and two lions. Beneath the coat of arms an inscription read,
O Dhia gach an cabhair.

An instinct she’d learned to trust as a child made her type the phrase. A picture opened of a strange brown-skinned child by a thatched cottage. Rose squinted at the screen. The building appeared to be scaled down to fit the child, like an elaborate play house. After puzzling over the image for a few seconds, she dismissed it and checked the list of programs. There was no accounting software.

“Darn,” she whispered to herself. She checked Excel and found a spreadsheet that purported to show payments Niall had made to the Elephant’s Nest. Some were rent, but a number of large amounts were described as Hedgehog Cottage expenses. Could this be a money-laundering scam? Rose looked over her shoulder at the door, bit her lip, and hit print.

Her heart pounded in time with the click of the printer, until the machine spit out three sheets of paper and fell silent. She jammed the sheets into her notebook and pressed a hand to her heart. She was fast realizing she was not cut out for sleuthing.

A quick glance at the open windows minimized at the bottom of the screen revealed an online stockbroking
service. That must be how he made his money—at least, she hoped so. Although there was something scary about Niall O’Connor, he fascinated her. She’d be disappointed to discover he was a crook.

She hadn’t found much, but at least the printout gave her a starting point for her questions. After setting the computer to standby, she tucked the notebook beneath her arm, then picked up the wooden box to return it to the windowsill. Tingles ran across her skin. She blinked, trying to clear her mind as drowsiness tugged down her eyelids. A dreamy sensation fluttered through her mind, whispering of secrets and dark delights.

She must put the box down. And she would in a minute, when she could summon the strength to place it back on…A wave of heat shimmered up through her body.
Oh, God.
She dropped back onto the seat. What on earth did Niall keep in the box? With trembling fingers, she eased up the lid.

Rose’s breath caught. Three small linked circles of pale stone nestled in black velvet. The strange jewelry was similar to the piece her mother had given her when she was a child. She touched her chest and felt the earthy brown stones she always wore underneath her blouse. Her mother had told her never to take the stone pendant off. Obviously, nobody had given Niall the same advice.

“Niall.” Her voice quavered on his name. The urge to touch his stones filled her with sharp longing. “Get a grip, woman.” Rose tried to drag her gaze away.

She blinked and shook her head. How long had she been in the room? All she had to do was close the lid and place the box back on the windowsill. Her fingertip slipped into the box, grazed across the top stone.
Everything smoothed out inside her; worries drifted away. Between her breasts, the stone pendent she’d worn against her heart all her life resonated with the elemental beat of the stones beneath her fingers. Her eyelids lowered, and she toppled down, down into a place of dark, hazy pleasure.

Wind rustled the last dry leaves clinging to the oak trees around Hedgehog Cottage. Niall knelt on the damp earth before his tiny half sister and pushed her dark curls behind her ears. She shook her head and the wiry twists of hair bounced free around her nut-brown face.

“Are you sure there’s nothing you’re wanting?” he asked.

She studied him with large brown eyes and shook her head. “You and me, lad, we don’t need much.”

“Aye, that’s for sure. But I like to get you things, Ana. You must indulge me fancy to spoil you on occasion.”

She clutched the sheepskin collar of his jacket, pulled him forward, and kissed his cheek. He breathed in the fragrance of newly baked bread that clung to her clothes and his sister’s earthy scent—familiar since she’d tended him as a babe. He gathered her chunky little body in his arms and closed his eyes. It was his turn to care for her now. Instead, he’d put her in danger by rebuffing Ciar and bringing her vengeance down on Ana. He should have let the fairy queen have her way with him. He’d suffered worse indignities.

Ana pulled away and patted his cheek with a small, warm hand. “Don’t you go worrying about me, darling boy. Take a leaf out of your brother’s book and go have yourself a good time.”

Niall’s guilty heart ached as she crouched, placed her palm on the damp soil, and whispered a leprechaun earth-magic blessing for him. A wrinkle of power shivered up through his knees.

She grinned. “Be off with you now, lad, and let me get back to me baking.”

He stood, reluctant to leave. “Look after yourself, Ana.”

She flapped her hand dismissively. “A worrywart you are, and no mistake. Begone.”

Niall mounted his bike, pulled on his helmet, and raised a hand in farewell when he left the clearing in front of Hedgehog Cottage. As he maneuvered along the narrow track hidden among the trees, he glanced toward the Elephant’s Nest just visible through the bare branches two hundred yards to his left.

A stunning jolt of pleasure swept through him. His heart pounded. Blood flashed. All strength left his body. The bike slewed over on the wet track, throwing him into the dirt. The roar of the engine sputtered, died. He lay on the soft leaf litter, panting with shock as he tried to clear the fuzziness from his mind.

After a few seconds, he flipped up the visor on his helmet, dragged in a shuddering breath, and stared at the gently swaying branches. What in the Furies had just happened?

He sat up and brushed the dead leaves and mud from his clothes. His whole body hummed with awareness. A subtle thread of connection pulled at his mind. He looked around, confused. Someone was messing with
him psychically. Fear pricked. Maybe one of Ciar’s people had found him or—

“Dagda!” Realization hit like a punch in the gut. Someone had touched his Magic Knot. If the person broke it, Niall’s mind, body, and spirit would be rent asunder, each to flounder alone in the shadowy in-between world. Such a punishment would appeal to Ciar.

Niall surged to his feet, ignoring the sick swell of nausea in his gut, and sprinted through the trees toward the Elephant’s Nest.

After racing through the front door, he mounted the stairs two at a time. The humming in his head befuddled him as though he’d drunk one tot of whiskey too many. He grabbed the handrail on the second-floor landing to steady himself before he yanked open the swinging door to the private flat and climbed the last stairs.

His bedroom door stood wide. As he approached, he flexed his fingers, ready to palm a knife. He hesitated for a heartbeat, then stepped into the open doorway.

Rose Tremain sat on the chair before his desk, his Magic Knot cradled in her palm. She swayed slightly, her eyes dazed and dreamy. His nerves sparked. Need for her struck like lightning. He managed to suck in air, to ruthlessly crush the feeling until his body calmed.

So, he had been right: Rose Tremain was more dangerous than she appeared. She’d been sent to enslave him by capturing his stones. If she thought he’d give in easily, she had another think coming.

Silently, he walked forward and closed his hand over hers. His vision blurred at the whip of sensation. Too late, he realized his mistake in touching her. Gritting his teeth, he fought the mental pull as she sucked his very
essence through their joined hands into a deep, hidden part of her that whispered of ancient magic and mystery.

Niall snatched up his Magic Knot and stumbled back. His breath came in short gasps as he stared at her in shock. Rose was the Cornish pisky Tristan wanted. How had she stopped them from sensing the truth about her? That deception alone proved she was up to no good.

Slowly, her green eyes focused on him. Confusion set tiny creases between her delicate brows; then surprise chased them away. She slapped a hand over her mouth.

“Aye, be afraid, little thief,” he whispered. “You’ll pay dearly for your deception before I’m done with you.”

“Oh, my God.” Rose stared at the flinty expression in Niall’s eyes, then down at her empty palm. She clenched her fist and pressed it against her pounding heart. How the hell had she let him catch her?

“I didn’t mean…I’m sorry.” There was no adequate way to apologize. Most of the time, she thought of her own stones as nothing more than peculiar jewelry, but she hated people touching them. “I saw the box and…I know it sounds daft, but it’s as if they called to me.”

Niall’s features hardened. “Don’t be thinking you’ll bind me to you, lass. I’m stronger than Ciar imagines.”

“Ciar?” Rose shook her head. “Who’s Ciar? I don’t know what you mean. I came up here for…” She glanced at his laptop, her memory fuzzy. She’d checked out his computer…then what? Had she found anything?

“Go on.” He crossed his arms. “Let’s hear your excuses.”

“You lied to me about there being no computer—”

“No, lass. You didn’t listen properly. I told you Michael didn’t have a computer.”

Rose felt her dander rise at his condescending tone. She had
not
misunderstood what she’d overheard him say in the parking lot. “Semantics. It doesn’t matter who owns the computer. If the machine’s used in the business, I need access.”

“And did you find anything useful with your prying?”

“In the course of undertaking a
legitimate investigation
, I checked for accounting software and looked at Excel.”

“Legitimate.” He laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. “So tell me, what incriminating evidence did you find?”

His eyes gleamed coldly fierce. Now was not the time to confront him about the spreadsheet. She stood, retrieved her notebook from his desk and twisted it between her hands. “We’ll discuss my findings when I’ve had longer to investigate the pub finances. Now I need to get on with it.”

Niall turned, dropped his stones into the box, and put it back on the windowsill. Rose took the opportunity to try to sidle between him and the bed to reach the door.

With a casual stride, he widened his stance to block her escape route. Rose jumped back, notebook clutched to her chest like a shield.

He fixed her with an implacable stare. “’Tis time to cut to the chase. Who sent you?”

“Who sent me?” She backed up another step. “Didn’t you read the card I gave you this morning?”

He became inhumanly still, his face an unreadable mask more unnerving than anger. “Cut the crap. Who really sent you? Queen Ciar?”

“Queen Ciar?” Rose repeated the name in an incredulous whisper. What was he involved in, an international crime ring? Did someone have a contract out on him? That would explain why he hid the fact that he had money. Fear slithered through her, and she edged farther back. “I don’t know what sort of trouble you’re in, but it’s nothing to do with me. I’m from Francis Marchant.”

“Lies.” He jerked a thumb toward the box containing his stones. “You know full well the Knot revealed who you are and why you’re here. Drop the innocent act, lass, and answer me questions. Otherwise I’ll have to make you talk.” His expression hardened, and he took a step closer.

Rose threw up a hand to stop him and backed into the nightstand. “I’m warning you: I know self-defense.”

He flexed his hands at his sides like a man about to draw a gun. Fear sent adrenaline spurting through her, setting every sense on high alert. She must get away. Niall O’Connor was dangerous. Her colleagues weren’t expecting her back in the office until the following week. If he hurt her, no one would miss her until it was too late.

Instinctive self-preservation cut in. She glanced across his bed and leaped onto the mattress heading for the door. The second she moved, he came after her. His fingers closed around her ankles. With a yank, he dragged her legs from under her and flipped her onto her back. She crashed down on the mattress, the air knocked from her lungs. The back of her head thumped
the pillow with a whack that sent stars spiraling across her vision.

Faster than seemed possible, his body landed on hers, pinning her to the bed. After a moment of shock, she dropped her notebook and slapped at his face and shoulders. He caught her wrists easily and cuffed them above her head in one hand. Bucking and twisting, she tried to knee him in the groin and dislodge him. He didn’t budge. Solid and unyielding, the hard length of his body pressed hers against the mattress.

Finally, lungs aching, Rose stilled with exhaustion. She squeezed her eyes closed and turned her face away. A mix of anger and fear burned inside her. What would he do? “Let…me…up,” she said in a gasp.

He didn’t speak, didn’t move. His hot breath brushed her cheek. The fragrance of the woods, earth, and fresh air filled her nose. Gradually, Rose became aware of every place his body touched hers, especially the hand-span of hard male flesh crushed against her pubic bone. Beneath her skin, tingling nerves awakened and thrummed to life. Her breath caught halfway in. She snapped open her eyes and stared at the wall. Her hormones had to be kidding.

The woodsy scent of him slithered through her like a drug. A sparking ball of lust tangled with the fear in her belly. Slowly she turned her head on the pillow to face him. Derision shimmered in his vivid blue eyes, his beautiful face etched in uncompromising lines by the wintry sun filtering through the window.

“Get off me,” she ground out, and tried to yank her hands free. Their eyes locked for one scorching beat. Rose blinked and snatched a breath. “If you’ damned well cooperated, I wouldn’t have needed to come up here.”

He arched a brow and stared at her challengingly. She stared right back, something inside her feeding on the confrontation.

“If you’ had the patience to wait an hour, I’d have fetched the accounts,” he said in a tight voice. “But that’s not your true business with us, is it? Who sent you, Rose Tremain?”

Rose glanced away and cursed under her breath, then met his gaze again. “Don’t you understand English? Watch my lips. Francis Marchant.”

At her command, his gaze shifted to her mouth. His eyes narrowed to burning blue slits. Suddenly Rose couldn’t get enough air. Time paused between heartbeats. Niall flexed his hips against her, lowered his face, and parted his lips, then sighed and shook his head. “You’ve not the faintest idea what I’m speaking of, lass, have you?”

Angry with him for thinking about kissing her and, inexplicably, even angrier because he hadn’t followed through, she jerked on her wrists. “Let go. And stop poking me with your hard-on.”

His eyes widened; then he released her and leaped back off the bed. Stunned at the speed and impossibility of his move, she lay staring up at him like a fool for a few seconds before she got her brain in gear. After grabbing her notebook, she scrambled off the bed. Breathless, hot, and shaky, she staggered toward the door and caught hold of the doorframe.

Hesitating, she glanced back, her heart skittering as she scanned the hard male body that had so recently been pressed against her. She covered her face with her notebook to hide a slightly hysterical grin. It appeared the old wives’ tale was true. Niall’s long, sexy fingers did indeed indicate how another part measured up.

He shifted uncomfortably beneath her scrutiny. “Me reaction means nothing. Friction is all it was, right enough. Aye, friction.”

The heat in her belly cooled and she averted her gaze. He probably didn’t think she was pretty enough for him because he was so damn perfect.

As she turned to leave, the glint of silver decorating the top of Niall’s box caught her eye. A shimmer of remembered pleasure swept across her skin and hummed through the stone pendant nestled between her breasts. Whether Niall liked it or not, something very strange had just happened between them.

Niall stared at the photo of Ana on his computer screen and closed his eyes against a dark rush of guilt. Rose must have seen the picture. He hoped her knowledge wouldn’t put his little leprechaun sister at risk of discovery.

Although Rose must be the Cornish pisky Tristan wanted, she obviously thought she was human. The fairy part of her was buried so deeply, Niall would never have sensed it if she hadn’t touched his Magic Knot.

He glanced at the rumpled bed and remembered the soft heat of her body. Now that she’d touched his stones, the two of them were linked by a spirit bond normally shared only by lovers. Intimate parts of him throbbed in memory, craving physical connection to complete the union. Thank Danu he had fought the desire to kiss her. The last thing he needed was to get involved with Rose and make her a target for Ciar’s revenge. He had his hands full protecting Ana.

Niall touched the picture of his sister’s beautiful, wrinkled brown face. To keep her safe, Tristan must
recast the spell of protection over Ana in the next few days. That meant Niall had no choice but to take Rose to the druid to ensure his cooperation.

He ground his teeth. He’d rather avoid involving Rose in his problems. She wasn’t looking for fairies. Left alone, she’d return to London none the wiser and live out the rest of her life as a human.

Maybe if he explained the situation to Tristan…He reached for the phone, but paused as he remembered the crafty gleam in the druid’s eyes when he’d heard about the pisky woman. Had the Cornish piskies really emigrated to America? Desperate for the druid’s help, he’d accepted that explanation without question. Now he wasn’t so sure.