***
Much to her surprise, the Guardians hadn’t been nearly as confrontational as she’d expected when they had returned to the Gathering Room. By then, the joint effort from both the Castle staff and Guardians to organize the children into manageable groups had begun to pay off. Instead of repeating their demands that Heather bring their grievances to the Council, the Guardians were almost sheepish about their reaction to the disappearances. Rescues, after all, were what they did. Almost apologetically, some offered the explanation to her that it was different when the rescuing involved one of their own. Heather understood this reasoning and she grudgingly allowed that, while the Council had left her holding the bag, so to speak, they may have been right to absence themselves until the initial panic had subsided.
And, just like that, now that everyone was back to being so…reasonable, Heather had to consider she’d overreacted herself. What was wrong with her? Was the heart of her distress over the locket collection as simple as a personal – and, she grimaced, childish gut reaction to its loss? She suspected Eric must think so, although he hadn’t come right out and said so, not even last night when he’d caught her crying. She couldn’t blame him for the assumption when she hadn’t confided her secret and she’d cried harder when he’d tried to comfort her with the promise she’d feel better once everything went back to normal.
But perhaps Eric knew her better than she knew herself, because, oh, how she missed her locket! Even while she immersed herself in her role as unofficial headmistress – wondering briefly why they didn’t actually have one – and mingled with the Guardians, she constantly found herself searching it out.
By early afternoon, most of the Guardian parents felt comfortable enough to trickle back to work or home. Marigold also returned to her assignment, but not before finding her and triumphantly handing her a scroll. Curious, Heather unfurled the parchment and found what could only be described as a treasure…a treasure map that is, of the Castle! Stunned at the find, she’d looked askance at Marigold who had simply pointed out Mr. Fitzsimmons from the crowd. He stood with his hand on the shoulder of his young son, Roderick, who would be in her class. She’d caught his eye and lifted the scroll, smiling her thanks. Mr. Fitzsimmons saluted in acknowledgement and turned back to the young woman standing next to him. A little surprised, she’d recognized the woman as Halley Gray, a recently widowed Guardian and an old friend. Heather wasn’t sure what had surprised her more; the high color in Halley’s cheeks as she spoke with the architect, or that her daughter, Alison, whose little hand she clutched, was now old enough to attend the school.
“Our little Alison was one of the last to disappear,” Marigold had informed her, watching the little girl wave an enormous feather at Roderick. In her spotless white dress and with her hair falling in perfect blond ringlets she didn’t look like she’d cause a minute of trouble. “Oh, she’s a crafty one. See that ostrich feather? It’s her souvenir. Can you believe they found the scamp in a saloon of all things? Four years old and she was dancing the can-can with the girls on stage!”
“Sounds like she’s a girl after your own heart,” Heather had said, and Marigold hadn’t disagreed. “Wrong century,” was all she’d said with a wink before she disappeared.
A short time later, still shaking her head at Marigold’s admiration for Alison’s antics, Heather left the Gathering Room armed with her map and a neglected to-do list. By tomorrow she wanted to have temporary nameplates attached to each doorway. First though, she would visit the Tower Lab and leave further exploration for a little later. She was anxious to check on her Subjects and curious to test the rumor that the Castle’s new labs rivaled the Guardians’ vast monitoring facilities back home.
She found out the Tower Lab didn’t rival the original at all – it mirrored it. If she didn’t know better, she’d think she were back at Dragon’s Keep. With a sense of déjà vu, she took in the familiar walls of monitors and file cabinets and walked over to what would be her own work station on the ‘other side.’ Here there was nothing personal on display. Of course there wasn’t. Here the desks would stay anonymous for the temporary use of students. Still, the identical layout was…disconcerting.
“Why fix what isn’t broken?” she murmured out loud into the empty space. The quiet was another difference. Unlike the hub of activity at Dragon’s Keep, the Tower Lab felt a bit like being at the helm of a ghost ship.
She stifled the temptation to make the quick ‘commute’ to Dragon’s Keep to access her cases and flipped some switches to bring the wall of monitors to life. From a work station – but not from the one that made her feel like she stepped into her doppelganger’s shoes – she quickly keyed in her codes to bring up her assigned Subjects. They filled the wall with scenes of familiar faces from various time periods, a ‘big picture’ that had a tendency to blend together into a colorful collage. It took practice to focus on the individual and not to become complacent when long periods passed without trouble, which was why she called looking at everyone at once “lifeguard duty.” Thankfully, a Guardian didn’t have to constantly remain on watch to be alerted to problems. But the visual method was ideal for giving students hands-on training to hone their skills of observation. And, she thought as she accessed her case notes at her borrowed desk, having the monitors flicker in the background kept her company.
An hour later, Heather had nearly finished updating her log entries, including one new incident requiring a short absence to intercede in – of all things – a near drowning. She twisted the long strands of her still damp hair into a braid. These days quick rescues were her specialty while other Guardians, like Marigold, preferred longer assignments.
Thinking about Marigold brought to mind their conversation this morning. Marigold was right. She needed to tell Eric about the baby as soon as possible. Part of the reason she had not done so already was because she’d been so angry with him about the locket collection. She bit her lip. But maybe she needed to set that anger aside.
“Working hard?”
She jumped and spun around, not believing her ears had correctly identified that deep voice.
“Eric!”
He stood two steps away, his long black cape pushed back from his broad shoulders. Water droplets glimmered on his raven black hair and trim beard. She wondered where he had teleported from when she’d thought him sequestered in a meeting. Now that he was here, she was suddenly nervous and didn’t know what to say.
“Has the Council chambers sprung a leak?”
Eric scowled. “No. I’ve been out on the moors. I needed some air and I called for a break.”
“Oh? Why?”
He stepped forward, bringing closer his fresh, clean scent of the outdoors. “Why, you ask? Because, dear wife, I’ve had the feeling of someone’s green eyes staring daggers in my back all day.”
How perceptive. Heather recalled her searching stare across the valley. There was hope for him yet. “Not all of the day, just parts.”
Eric arched a dark brow. “Which parts would that be?”
“This morning, for one, when Marigold and I got lost.”
“Ahh. I’m not sure how that was my fault, but I will take the blame. When else?”
“You know when. After the locket collection.”
He shook his head. “After? I think not, my sweet Heather. I think you mean during, if not before.”
Heather shrugged. “Yes to both. Then too.”
With one more stride he closed the gap between them. “You led the collection because you thought I expected you to and for that you blame me.”
She couldn’t deny it.
“But in this I will not take the blame.”
“I may have been unfair,” she conceded, turning away to briskly close out of her files. “The children and the Guardians are coping better than I had given them credit.”
“Does that good will include the Council? And me?”
>
She tilted her head back to look up at him. “Give the man an inch and he takes a mile.”
“Always,” he agreed, his smile unrepentant. “But there was another reason I came today than to wring confessions from you.”
A laugh escaped her. “But you enjoy it so much! What other reason could there be?”
“This.” He lifted his hands and slipped a fine-linked chain of gold over her head. She hardly breathed as the smooth metal of its centerpiece came to rest against her heart.
Her locket.
Heather sighed. The unsettled feeling she’d had since it left her possession disappeared. Her eyes flew upward to meet his dark, inscrutable eyes. He must have stolen her locket from the collection. She blinked, a sudden onset of tears blurring his image. All she seemed to do was cry of late.
“Why?” she asked, unable to find more than the one word.
Eric brushed his fingers against the corner of her eye. His firm mouth tilted upward in a self-deprecating hint of a smile. “A small abuse of power is acceptable if it will stop your tears.”
Her inertia suddenly ended and Heather gave a squeal of delight. She jumped out of her chair and threw her arms around him, hugging him tight. “Oh, Eric!”
Eric accepted her effusive gratitude with forgivable exasperation. “Keep it hidden,” he said gruffly. “I don’t need everyone to know how easily you can sway me.”
She leaned back in the circle of his arm. “Can I?”
“You know the answer.” He cupped a hand against the side of her cheek, the answer in his eyes.
She’d had her doubts, of which she was now deeply ashamed. Heather turned her cheek into his palm. “Thank you.”
He nodded. His hand lingered against her face for a moment before he started to draw back. “I have to go back.”
“Already?” She gripped his wrist to keep him from leaving.
Eric chuckled. “I’m not supposed to be here now.”
But he was. And in more ways than one, he’d set her world to rights. As she’d told Marigold, one grand gesture was all it took.
She didn’t want to wait another minute to tell him her news. The Council be damned. What was time to the Council? They would have him much longer than she or their child. “Please don’t go yet, Eric. I need to tell you something very important.”
His eyes darkened. “Nothing more about the locket ceremony, Heather.”
“That’s not it - -”
Her words were cut off when he bent his dark head and captured her mouth with his. While he kissed her, he drew hands down, holding her immobile. Only their mouths and hands touched as he worked his magic.
Heather gasped. After five years he still made her breath catch. Her knees grew weak, her only thought the desperate need to be able to lift her hands around his neck. When he released her mouth to graze along her jaw line to her ear she tugged at her hands. “Let go.”
“Can’t do that.” His voice rumbled low in her ear, causing a familiar and delicious shiver. “If I let your hands roam where they will, I will never get out of here.”
“Is that so bad?” she asked, her voice breathy. Her neck arched and his lips followed the line of her throat.
“Deliciously bad,” he murmured. His wandering mouth reached the top button of her blouse, impeding his progress. Was that a growl of annoyance she heard? She smiled at his dilemma, anticipation running like fire through her veins. Would he release her hands or, as the tugging at the button with his teeth seemed to indicate, would he continue the way he was? Either way seemed a win-win for her.
But, disappointingly, he lifted his head. “You are a temptress.”
Her heartbeat refused to slow. “Not enough of one apparently.”
Eric shook his head. “If we were anywhere more private, I assure you there would be buttons scattered across the floor.”
“Oh!” Heavens! She had totally forgotten where they were, with the doors of the Lab wide open. The emptiness of this part of the Castle, and mostly the intoxication of Eric himself, had lulled her senses into thinking they had the place to themselves. But she flushed at the thought of what anyone passing by might soon have seen.
Eric lifted her hands and kissed the pulse at each of her wrists. “I have to go. But in no more than two hours I fully intend to pick up exactly where we left off here.”
“But…”
He stepped back, releasing her hands. “And then we‘ll talk.”
Before she could blink, he was gone.
Heather sat down at her work station chair, not trusting her wobbly legs. Another opportunity to tell Eric squandered. But there would be another. She smiled, her hand drifting to her stomach.
“You wanted it back too, didn‘t you little one?” Maybe this was why she needed the locket so badly. It wouldn’t be hers much longer.
The Castle: Prequel to the Guardian Angel Series Page 3