A groan vibrated in his chest as the kiss deepened. Her pulsating flesh, yielding by degree, screamed a muted cry, and she burst from her self-imposed constraints and demanded all due to her after years of abstinence.
He pressed his forehead against hers, his body trembling. “I don’t have protection.”
“I don’t care.” She looked beyond the lacy fringe of her lashes, panting out the words that represented failure and disappointment for most of her adult life but now stood at the gateway to freedom. If he said no, she’d crawl back into her barren womb and never attempt another foray into the sensual realm.
“It would be irresponsible.” His whispered words matched the conviction in his eyes.
“This is irresponsible.” Her impassioned voice echoed her body’s desperation. She slipped her fingers beneath the waistband of his briefs and pushed them down over his hips until he kicked them aside.
“I didn’t think you’d change your mind—”
“Shh.” She pressed her finger against his lips.
He lifted her gown, sliding the silk over her knees, her hips, her belly, and gathered the fabric in his hands. She held her arms still, fighting the tightening at the back of her throat. It’s dark in the room. He can’t see me. She raised her arms, and he tossed the gown to the floor.
He kissed her, and the tightening in her throat disappeared, replaced by hard tremors racing through her, growing stronger and more insistent. The entrance to her body stretched taut, and Elliott seated himself within her. A heartbeat or two later, he penetrated deeper still, sparking a storm of golden, erotic sensations.
His gaze traveled up her body, stopping for a moment at her breasts. “God, wee sweetheart, you’re beautiful. Just as I knew you’d be.”
They cleaved to each other with hot, steamy skin, and the taste of his fervor turned spicy and salty and tangy all at the same time. Making love with him might as well have been her first time. Never had a man filled her so completely. She moaned as she rocked against him, enjoying the play of his muscles against her skin. She closed her eyes, panting desperate, greedy breaths, until a tempest rose within her, building to a crescendo. Her nails dug into his back. He applied a modicum of pressure, and then her breathing unraveled and she disappeared within her climax. A perfect rapture.
She opened her eyes slowly, her nerve endings still humming. “That was delicious.”
He withdrew and plunged back in. “Sounded like you enjoyed it.”
She sighed, although slightly embarrassed that she’d been so vocal. He pressed hard against her with an answering groan, and his mouth roamed at will. No longer gentle, he devoured the soft curve of her neck and took her lips in an urgent demand. With every torrid thrust, she rose up to meet him, giving back with the same insatiable hunger, and demanding more in return.
“Thank God, you changed your mind,” he said.
The rough timbre of his voice aroused and electrified her. She met his brown eyes, smoldering with heat. And then the words stopped, too late now to say anything more. His movements grew more fervent, his breathing labored, his neck strained and pulsing, until his body shuddered against her, erupting and branding her with his spirit.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Louise’s B&B – December 26
MEREDITH POPPED AWAKE with the winter sun on her face. She rolled over onto the other side of the bed, burrowing deep into the blankets. The smell of sex perfumed the sheets. They’d made love twice. Working around his injured leg had been a challenge, and they had laughed through the awkwardness. Oh, the places his mouth and fingers touched. Places that still tingled.
She covered her face with her hands and patted her flaming cheeks.
The door to the adjoining room stood closed now. I wonder what time he left. She had slept soundly. Did I snore? Maybe he couldn’t sleep and left soon after we . . .
A strong breeze blew through the tree outside the window. Bare branches swiped against the side of the house, hurling old insecurities at her. Jonathan had slept with her only a handful of times after the mastectomy, and each time he’d left before the sun came up and always closed the door between them. She rolled over and caressed a pillow that still held Elliott’s musky scent, but her nose picked up something else. Something metallic. Another sniff and a sense of urgency rose in the pit of her stomach. She yanked back the comforter and gasped softly.
Blood. Elliott’s blood.
THIRTY MINUTES LATER, after a quick shower, Meredith ventured downstairs for breakfast, hoping Louise would have news of Elliott. Had he gone to the doctor? If his wound was bleeding, he needed medical care.
Meredith made a beeline to the dining room for a much-needed cup of caffeine. The serving trays on the sideboard were empty, but the coffee pot remained plugged in. By now, the brew was probably overcooked. What could she expect, she was forty-five minutes late. This was a B&B, not a restaurant.
The door into the kitchen swung open, and Louise came barreling out. The two women collided. Meredith rolled her ankle and fell against the sideboard. Louise wobbled yet remained upright.
“Shite,” Louise said. “Scared the bejesus out of me.” She patted her chest, panting. “Are ye’ hurt?”
Meredith’s heart thumped against the wall of her chest. The fear of injury scared the daylights of her. She held her leg still, bent at the knee. Please don’t let my foot be hurt. Seconds turned into a full minute, but she still couldn’t put her foot on the floor out of fear. There’d been no break, no crunch, no tear, but still her fear lingered.
“Are you hurt?” Louise asked again.
Meredith bit her lip as she put weight on her foot. A twinge of pain, but nothing significant. “I’m fine.”
“Thank God.” Louise waved her bracelet-clad arms. “I’ve had the contractor back twice to fix that blind corner. He can’t get it right.”
Meredith rubbed her shoulder where she had hit it against the furniture. She’d probably have a bruise. She’d keep an eye on both her shoulder and foot during the day and ice later if there was any swelling.
“I was tidying up the room. I thought you’d gone out. It’s rather late,” Louise said.
“I overslept. Is Elliott working in the library?”
Louise grabbed dirty dishes and loaded them on a tray. “He’s been in there with the door closed since seven o’clock.” She seemed tied up tighter than the apron squeezing her waist.
“How was he feeling?” Meredith asked.
Louise picked up the tray, took a step toward the kitchen door, then stopped. “He tries to hide his pain, but this morning he wasn’t doing a very good job. If you ask me, he shouldn’t have gone out yesterday.”
“Have you ever tried to dissuade Elliott from doing something? I don’t think it’s possible,” Meredith said.
“Tell him it will cost a week’s wages. He’ll back right off.”
Meredith thoughtfully gnawed on her lower lip. As far as she could tell, he’d spared no expense entertaining her last night, but she didn’t intend to tell Louise that.
Louise jostled the tray, and the dishes clinked against each other. “It’s late. I’ve put all the breakfast food away, but if you’re hungry, a bowl of fruit with yogurt would be easy enough to throw together.”
“Don’t go to any trouble. I’ll just have a cup of coffee.” Meredith poured a cup before picking up the newspaper and glancing at the headlines. She quickly scanned the article about the upcoming Hogmanay events. “I’ll finish this, then head out.”
Louise set down the tray, then fisted her hands at her hips. “What have you done to Elliott? I’ve never seen him like this.”
The newspaper slipped from Meredith’s fingers. “Excuse me. You’re asking what I’ve done?”
Louise stared at Meredith’s left hand, which was holding the coffee cup. “He’s vulnerable right now, and I don’t want to see him hurt.”
Heat hotter than her coffee rose from the pit of Meredith’s stomach. “I don’t intend—” She
stopped, refusing to let Louise bully her into a discussion that was none of her business. “I’m going to work now.”
“If you’re planning to interrupt Elliott, I wouldn’t. He snaps at me when I do, but he might not snap at you.” Frost an inch thick coated Louise’s words. She picked up Meredith’s cup and placed it on the tray with the other dirty dishes.
Meredith fingered her wedding ring while taking several calming breaths. She had no idea what caused the flighty woman to turn into a snarky, over-protective bitch—a snarky bitch who took her cup of unfinished coffee.
Meredith stopped by the library on her way out. The door was closed, but she heard Elliott yelling about insurance to someone named Harrison. She tiptoed away from the door. Now, she could leave for the Archives knowing two things: Harrison was in big trouble, and Elliott wasn’t bleeding to death.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Louise’s B&B – December 26
ELLIOTT STOKED THE fire in the library’s fireplace. He knew the fluctuation in temperature didn’t come from the room’s thermostat but from his own. Cold chills caused the shakes, making holding a pen difficult, yet sizzling memories of Meredith beneath him made him hard and hungry. Intense waves of cold followed by heat broke his concentration at a time when the farm needed his full attention. Now, due to the conversation with Harrison about the insurance company, Elliott was shivering and chewing antacids.
Shots of Demerol dimmed the pain, but nothing pulled down the curtain on his erotic memories. He wanted an encore, even though physically, based on past experience, he doubted his ability to perform. Maybe tonight he and Meredith would order dinner in and have a bed picnic. Sustenance, he didn’t need. Meredith, he did, and he would hope for the best.
His phone rang, bringing an unwanted intrusion. “Fraser.”
“We’ve got a problem.”
A muscle twitched along his jaw. “Damn, Doc, what now?”
“The gross pathology of Galahad’s liver showed a characteristic pattern similar to that of a euthanasia solution.”
Elliott straightened in his chair. “Barbiturates?”
Doc cleared his throat. “Someone killed him.”
Elliott slammed his fist on top of the desk, then took a breath to cap the boiling rage. Except for the deaths of Sean and Mary MacKlenna, Galahad’s death represented the single most devastating event on the farm. Wrong. A murdered horse was catastrophically worse.
Elliott’s stomach, filled with breakfast and painkillers, roiled.
“I notified the Sheriff,” Doc said.
Elliott rubbed his forehead. “What’d he say?”
“There’s no law against putting your own horse down.”
“The insurance company won’t pay the claim if they believe we killed him. The Sheriff’s attitude won’t help.” Elliott glanced at his watch. “As soon as I can gather the flight crew, I’ll come home.”
Doc gave a weary sigh. “I think that’s wise. Sandy’s good at what she does, but she can’t handle the kind of press this will generate.”
“I’ll send her an email, but tell her and Allie that no one is to talk to a reporter, including Harrison. I’ll draft a statement. Sandy should have it within the hour.” Elliott hung up, shaking, and not from the chills. He’d get that murdering son of a bitch in his crosshairs, and when he did, there’d be no mercy.
He buzzed Kevin’s room and started talking before Kevin said hello. “Pack up. We’re going home.” Then he called his pilot, David, and Jim Manning. After leaving a message asking Jim to return his call, Elliott shuffled through the house with knifelike pains shooting up and down his leg. “Louise.” He found her sitting at the dining room table, head in her hands, reading the newspaper.
She glanced up. “God, you look horrible. What’s wrong?”
He leaned on the crutches. An intense uncontrolled fire burned in his stomach. Once he reported what happened to his horse, the news would knock down the first domino in a long line of carefully placed tiles. There would be no stopping the rest from falling. When the police eventually solved the mystery, and he knew they would, Elliott would be the last domino to tumble.
“Galahad was murdered, and we’re in for a fight with the insurance company. I’m going home, and I need Meredith’s phone number.”
Louise crossed her arms and gave him a pointed stare. “A travel agency made her reservation. I don’t have it. You’re sleeping with her. Why ask me?”
He scowled at her. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”
She gave a little harrumph and a shrug. “I don’t want you hurt, Elliott.”
“I’ve got a dead twenty-five million dollar horse, and you’re giving me crap because I slept with a woman.” The muscles in his jaw balled up.
The front door opened, and David entered the hallway. “Where’s Kevin?”
“He’s packing,” Elliott said.
David headed toward the steps. “Give us a couple of minutes.”
Louise dabbed at her eyes with a napkin. “I’m sorry. I hate change, and it’s coming whether I want it or not.”
He ran his hand through his hair. Something he rarely did.
Louise walked over to him. “You have a strand of hair sticking straight up.” She finger combed his hair. “There now, back in place.”
His phone beeped with a text message. He answered it, sent a text to Harrison, and another one to Doc.
Louise reached for his arm. “Come on. I’ll walk you to the front door.”
David and Kevin came downstairs, carrying the bags. “Your laptop wasn’t in your room. Is it in the library?” Kevin asked.
Elliott nodded. “So is my jacket.”
Louise grabbed his tweed cap off the hook by the door and placed it on his head. “You feel like you’re running a fever.”
“Nothing’s wrong with me.” He punched the door open with his crutch. “Tell Meredith to call me.”
“Go to the doctor when you get home,” Louise pleaded. “You could still lose your leg.”
“They won’t cut it off because of a wee fever.”
“No, but they’ll take it to save yer life,” she said with a bite to her words.
Elliott stormed out of the house, letting the door slam behind him.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The National Archives of Scotland – December 26
WHEN MEREDITH ARRIVED at the Archives, she discovered the search rooms were closed for the day. If it hadn’t been for a sweet woman in Records who was working extra to get caught up, Meredith would have been locked out. The woman took pity on her when Meredith plopped down on the icy steps and buried her face in her hands, crying.
Now, a few hours later, she sat in the restroom at the Registry House with a cold pack icing her ankle. The ankle didn’t swell, but paranoia did. She didn’t intend to rush off to the doctor, but if swelling developed, she’d get the name of a specialist from Elliott and have her foot x-rayed. A stress fracture years earlier had gone unnoticed until a secondary injury sidelined her for several weeks. She refused to let that happen again, especially with the qualifying race looming in a couple of months. Looking ahead at the race was a way of denying her probable cancer. Right now, she needed that.
She leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes. Every time she sighed, a spot on her body tingled—a place where Elliott had touched or licked or nibbled. The ice helped cool her body temperature. Her memories heated her up again.
If she had a conversation with Cate, her intuitive assistant would pick up on a pause or delayed response and accuse Meredith of finding a handsome Scotsman. She knew Meredith well. So she had sent Cate a text explaining that use of cellular devices in the Archives was prohibited and that she’d be unavailable for most of the day. And if Meredith remained unavailable, she wouldn’t have to talk to her doctor either. It wasn’t that she didn’t want the results of the biopsy; it was that she didn’t want to know today. She wanted time with Elliott before the world came crashing down.
>
Just one more day. That’s all I want.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Louise’s B&B – December 26
BY MID-AFTERNOON, Meredith had traced Cullen Montgomery’s line back to Major John Montgomery born in 1670. And she’d even had time to make copies of the Session Record Elliott needed for his research. Several times, she’d thought of calling him but didn’t have his phone number, and she didn’t want to ask Louise. If he hadn’t made plans for dinner, she’d suggest a light supper by the fire in the library, or in her room. A warm smile tickled her.
As soon as she walked through the door at the B&B, she sensed in the quiet stillness that the house was in a somber mood. She sniffed, picking up the aromas of meat roasting in the oven and Christmas candles burning in the dining room, but the scent of outdoors that Elliott brought indoors had vanished. Her gloved hands clenched at her side.
“Meredith, is that you?” Louise called.
Meredith peeked around the corner, slipping off her gloves and scarf. “Yes. Have you seen Elliott?”
Louise stepped out into the hallway, wringing her hands. “He’s gone.”
Meredith’s heart hit the brakes to avoid a messy collision. “To the store?” She knew Louise wasn’t implying that he’d taken a quick trip down to the market, but she held out hope nonetheless.
“He went home.” Louise’s emphatic tone didn’t match the hand-wringing.
“To Fraser House, you mean?”
“No. MacKlenna Farm. He went home to Kentucky.”
The Last MacKlenna Page 14