by Nora Roberts
Their gazes met and held.
“Jamie said that if we work together we may yet thwart our enemy.”
“Ah. So now it’s become your fight, too?”
Sir Charles sat in his wheelchair, sipping his drink and watching the interaction between his nephew and this young woman. Though he was certain they weren’t aware of it as yet, he could sense a depth of feeling that went far beyond that of employer and employee.
Despite the seriousness of the situation, he felt a sudden lightness around his heart. It had long been his wish that Rob would meet someone worthy of him. Someone who would cherish his way of life and help preserve it. Who better than this woman, who had made a career of studying the very things Rob most loved in this world?
Maybe, he thought with a smile, there was more going on here than met the eye.
He cleared his throat, and the two young people looked his way. “It has often been my experience that out of even the most wretched of circumstances, much good can come.” He gave them the benefit of his smile. “Who knows? Perhaps if we all work together, we may yet come up with a way to save Castle Clough.”
“Miss?”
Estelle looked up from her work to find Arley standing in the doorway. “Yes, Arley. Come in.”
“Sir Charles asked if you would deliver this to Lord Cameron.” He held out an envelope.
She accepted it, noting that though it was sealed, it bore no markings. “Deliver it? Where is Lord Cameron?”
“Out in the field, miss. Working with the herd.”
“Is it far?”
“No more than a kilometer.”
“Is Fergus too busy to go?”
The lad shrugged. “I don’t know, miss. I only know that Sir Charles asked that you deliver it.”
She sighed. In the past few days she’d been given half a dozen such assignments by his uncle. Take this to Rob in the library. Take that to him in the dining room. Now she was being sent out to the field. At this rate, she’d never get her work done.
“All right, Arley. Tell Sir Charles that I’ll see to it right away.” She turned away and picked up a tweed jacket. Though the sun was shining, the air had a bite to it.
As she started off across the field, her spirits lifted. For days now she hadn’t seen Jamie. In fact, she’d stopped looking for him. At first she’d missed his silly pranks. But now she was beginning to believe that he didn’t exist at all. It was simply the sort of hysteria brought on by the power of suggestion. She’d read of the curse of Castle Clough, and because she’d misunderstood it, she’d simply conjured an image of a young ghost because…well, because all castles ought to have one.
There now. She felt better already. She was back to her old sane, sensible self.
As she came up over a curving meadow, she caught sight of Rob walking toward her. Slung over his shoulders was a newborn calf.
At the sight of him, tall and rugged, his dark hair mussed, his big hands holding the animal gently, her heart did somersaults.
“Estelle.” He broke into a wide smile. “What brings you out here?”
“A message from your uncle.”
He accepted the envelope and stuck it in his pocket.
“Who is this?” She reached up to stroke the velvet nose of the sleepy-eyed animal.
“This little guy’s just a few hours old. The poor little thing will have to be hand-fed for a day while I treat an infection in his mother.” He motioned behind him, and Estelle caught sight of a field hand leading a cow.
“Does he have a name?”
He shook his head and started toward the barn in the distance. “Not yet. Maybe you’d like to give him one.”
Estelle kept pace beside him. “I’ve never named a calf. Tell me a little about him.”
“His father is Brawny of Clough. One of the finest bulls in all of Scotland.” Rob stepped out of the sunshine and into the darkness of the barn, strolling past several stalls before pausing before an open door. Inside, in a bed of straw, he gently settled the tiny animal and covered it with a blanket.
“And his mother?” Estelle knelt beside the calf and continued to soothe and stroke, while Rob filled a bottle with formula.
“A bonny heifer. This is her first birthing, and she came through it admirably.”
He handed her the bottle, and she laughed with delight when the calf fastened onto it and began to drink. But she felt suddenly light-headed when she looked up to see Rob toss aside his shirt and plunge his hands into a bucket of water.
At the sight of his hard, muscled back, her throat went dry. When he turned, she could hardly tear her gaze away from the hair-roughened chest, the flat, trim stomach. The muscles of his arms bunched and tightened as he reached for a towel and dried himself before pulling on a clean shirt.
It seemed incongruous that all morning she had photographed priceless artifacts with a digital camera, sending the images over the Internet to prospective buyers, and now she was kneeling in a barn with a newborn calf, fighting the most primitive of all urges.
She looked down at the calf. “Oh, look, Rob. Look how bold he is.”
“Is that his name, then?”
She arched a brow, considering. Pleased, she nodded. “He is bold. It suits him.”
When the calf had emptied the bottle, Rob picked him up and gently draped him around his shoulders. “Come on, Bold. I’ll take you to your mother.”
With Estelle following, he carried the calf to another stall, where the mother stood waiting. As soon as he deposited the calf in the straw, its mother began nuzzling and coaxing, until the calf was standing beside her.
“Oh, Rob, aren’t they beautiful?”
“Aye. But here in Scotland we say ‘bonny.’ ”
“Bonny. Aye,” she said, imitating his burr. “Mother and son are indeed a bonny pair.”
He stood beside her, his foot resting on the crossed bar of the stall. For some reason he couldn’t quite fathom, his heart swelled with pleasure. There was nothing she could have said that would have pleased him more.
She glanced at her watch. “I’d better get back. I’m neglecting my work.”
“Wait.” He pulled her close and brushed his lips over hers. It was the merest touch of mouth to mouth, but it had her blood running hot.
She savored the moment, loving the press of his hard, muscled body against hers, and the feel of his big hands moving along her spine. She realized that she would like nothing more than the pleasure of staying just so, with his breath warm against her cheek, and his firm, clever lips nuzzling hers.
“Until tonight, Estelle.” He tucked her hair behind her ear, allowing his hand to linger a moment.
As she walked away, Rob tore open the envelope she’d given him. He read his uncle’s familiar scrawl, then threw back his head and roared with laughter.
The old codger was playing matchmaker. He’d admitted as much in his note. He’d sent her out here for no other reason than to throw them together. And he’d added as an afterthought that he hoped his nephew would be sufficiently grateful for the favor.
He was, Rob realized. While everything around him was falling apart, while his whole world as he’d known it was shattering beyond repair, he was foolishly, and completely, losing his heart.
Estelle entered the dining hall and glanced around in surprise. Rob wasn’t there. Sir Charles was sitting alone before the fire.
She felt a wave of bitter disappointment. She’d taken such pains with her dress. It was a soft white wool, with long, tapered sleeves and scooped neckline. She’d waged an argument with herself before deciding to pin up her hair in a neat knot. That way, she reasoned, she wouldn’t look too fussy. Or too overtly sexy.
“Rob is late tonight, I see.” She crossed the room and offered her hand to Sir Charles. Instead of squeezing it, he lifted it to his lips.
“He sent word that he’ll be spending the night in the barn.”
“Oh, no. Don’t tell me there’s something wrong with Bold.”
&
nbsp; “Bold?”
“Did he mention a calf, Sir Charles?”
“A calf?” The old man shrugged. “I believe he did. Something about keeping an eye on him…”
“Oh, Sir Charles. Would you mind terribly if I went to the barn to see for myself? I hate to abandon you, but this is the first calf I’ve ever named. He’s very special to me. And if there’s something wrong…”
“But of course you must go, my dear. I insist. Here.” He lifted the soft plaid blanket that covered his lap and handed it to her. “Drape this around your shoulders to ward off the night air.” Then he beckoned to Desmond. “Have you the basket of supper Alfred fixed for my nephew?”
“Aye.” The old man lifted a basket from the table. With a slight bow he handed it to Estelle.
“Thank you, Desmond. Sir Charles, I won’t be long.”
“Now you musn’t race back on my account. In fact, I’m feeling rather weary. I’ll probably go up to my room any minute now and take my supper in bed. So take your time, my dear. Stay with my nephew a while so he won’t be lonely out there in the night.”
She started off, then thought better of it and returned to brush a kiss over his cheek. “Thank you, Sir Charles.”
As she dashed out of the room, the old man touched a finger to the spot, then glanced at Desmond with a devilish smile. “You had Alfred add a second supper to that basket as I requested?”
“Aye, Sir Charles.”
“Good. Good.” The old man rubbed his hands together gleefully. “Now, if my nephew can resist all that, he’s not the man I think he is.”
The two old men shared a chuckle. Then, as he did every night, Desmond poured Scotch into a tumbler, set it beside Sir Charles, and went out, leaving him to his fire, his drink, and his memories.
7
“ROB.”
At the sound of Estelle’s voice, Rob turned to see her standing in the doorway of the barn, trying to locate him in the darkness.
“In here.” He lifted a lantern from a hook and started toward her.
She raced forward, meeting him halfway. “Has something happened to Bold?”
“No. He’s fine. Why?”
“Your uncle said…”
“My uncle.” A flicker of a smile touched the corners of his lips. “I should have known. Bless his conniving old heart.” He caught her arm and led her toward the stall. “I just wanted to stay here a while so I could keep an eye on mother and son.” He held the lantern aloft so she could see for herself that the cow and calf were indeed fine.
“Oh, I’m so relieved.” She set aside the basket and leaned on the rail, watching as the cow nuzzled her calf. “When Sir Charles said you’d be spending the night out here, I was certain something had gone terribly wrong.”
“Spending the night, am I?” He hadn’t planned on it, but suddenly it seemed like a fine idea. As long as he didn’t have to spend it alone. “And you rushed out to keep me company.”
“Yes.” She glanced over and realized he was studying her with a strange, intense look on his face. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Wrong?” He touched a hand to her cheek. “Nothing is wrong, Estelle. In fact, everything is so right. Especially where you’re concerned. The way you look. So intriguing. One minute the prim professor. The next, a tempting little seductress.” He drew her close and pressed his face to her hair, breathing her in. “The way you smell. Fresh and clean, like a field of wildflowers.” He ran his hands down her back, sending little tremors along her spine. “The way you’re willing to fight for me.” He chuckled, and the sound sent a thrill racing through her. “I can almost see you marching headlong into battle, sword at the ready, determined to fight for what you believe in.”
She’d never known such amazing sensations. Icy tingles and shimmering heat. Fear and longing and a strange sense that everything in her life was about to change. And though it frightened her more than she cared to admit, there was a sense of anticipation, of wild exhilaration, as well. “I would fight for you, Rob, if only I knew how.”
“I know that. And I find it so…endearing.” He caught a tangle of her hair and watched as the strands sifted through his fingers.
She felt the breath hitch in her throat and knew with absolute certainty that he was going to kiss her. Knew also that she wanted him to. Desperately. Still, she was torn between desire and a need to run back to the castle, where she knew she could be safe from her own weakness.
“You’re so soft, Estelle. Everything about you is soft.” He seemed fascinated by her pale skin, peeking out from beneath the cover of a blanket she wore like a shawl. With his eyes on hers, he ran a fingertip along her exposed skin, from her neck to her shoulder.
She shivered and started to draw the blanket tighter around her. But her fingers fumbled, and it fell to the straw at their feet.
“You look like an angel. My angel. Come to save me.” He lowered his head, running wet, nibbling kisses along the sensitive hollow between her neck and shoulder until she moaned and pushed away a little.
Her eyes suddenly looked too big. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.
“What’s wrong, angel?” He smiled. But he seemed more dangerous than amused.
“I’m afraid.”
“Of me?”
“No.” She struggled to speak over the knot of fear that clogged her throat. “Of me. Of the things I’m feeling.”
“Ah.” There was a gleam in his eye as he lifted a hand to her cheek. “An honest woman. I’d expected as much.” He stared down into her eyes before saying softly, “I have to kiss you, Estelle.”
His arms came around her, drawing her close against his chest. His mouth hovered over hers for a moment, and she felt the jittery thrill of anticipation. Then his lips covered hers in a kiss that drained her even as it filled her.
As he took the kiss deeper, his tongue darted between her lips, dueling with hers, mating, while his hands moved seductively across her shoulders, down her arms. On a moan of pleasure he backed her up against the rough wood of an empty stall and continued raining kisses over her eyes, her nose, her cheek.
She was so hot she was melting. Each touch of his hands, each press of his lips, made her blood heat more.
At the whimpering, sighing sounds she made his blood pumped furiously. He could hardly see through the dark mist of desire that nearly blinded him. He couldn’t remember ever wanting anything or anyone so desperately.
“Stay with me, Estelle.” He spoke the words inside her mouth. “Stay the night.”
“No. Wait. I musn’t.” She put a hand to his chest, struggling to think. But all she could think of was him. The way his eyes, hot with desire, met hers. The way those big, work-worn hands moved over her. All she could taste was him. A dark, mysterious taste that was like no other. And the need for him. Pulling at her. Tugging at her. Making her weak with the wanting.
“I can’t wait. I don’t want to.” He dragged her close and kissed her again, until she was breathless. “You don’t want to. Admit it.”
At that she went deathly quiet.
He pressed his advantage. “If you tell me to stop, I will, though I swear it’ll kill me. Tell me, Estelle. Tell me to stop. Tell me you don’t want this, too.”
She could feel the pounding of his heart against her palm. It was as wild, as erratic, as her own. He wanted her. Wanted her. The knowledge bloomed inside her heart until it felt as though it would explode. And the truth was, she wanted him. Desperately.
In the silence of the night he waited for her answer. Everything depended on her next words.
She let out a long, deep sigh. “I can’t tell you I don’t want this. It would be a lie.”
He reminded himself to breathe. For the first time the tension left his voice, smoothed it out with a smile. “Thank heaven.” He lowered his mouth to hers, avid, hungry. And he feasted.
She’d never had a man taste her like this, as though she were a banquet. He lingered over her lips, drawing out eve
ry drop of flavor, before moving on to nibble her jaw, and then lower, running hot, wet kisses down the long column of her throat.
“Oh, Rob.” The words were more a sigh than a whisper.
His mouth found hers again, and he kissed her until they were both breathless.
With a moan of sheer pleasure she wrapped herself around him, returning his kisses with such fervor, she couldn’t quite believe what she was doing. She’d never before thought of herself as greedy. But she wanted to touch, to taste, to savor every kiss, every jolt, every sweet sensation.
The purely male flavor of him poured through her, leaving her giddy with delight. In her prim, practical world there had been so little time to indulge herself. Instead of dinners and dates there had been field trips and seminars. Instead of flowers and candy there had been theses and exams. But now—now, she could indulge her woman’s heart. With Rob, she could have what her heart desired. It was all here for the taking, in this man. This moment. And this, this taste, was only the beginning.
Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. She could hardly wait to feel that hard, muscled flesh she’d seen earlier today. She slid the shirt off his shoulders and allowed her hands to splay across his chest, loving the ripple of muscle beneath her palms.
She felt the coolness of the night air as his fingers lowered the zipper of her dress. It slid off her shoulders to pool at her feet.
“Why, Estelle.” His voice was warm with laughter as he realized that she was wearing nothing beneath it. “Who would have thought it of you?”
She found herself laughing with him, and marveling at the fact that they could laugh at a time like this. “I think I’ll have to lay the blame at your feet, Rob. You make me feel like a woman.”
“You are a woman. A beautiful…” He ran soft, nibbling kisses across her shoulder. “…desirable…” He brought his mouth lower, to her collarbone. “…absolutely fantastic woman.” With a growl in his throat that sounded more animal than human, he closed his mouth around one erect nipple.
The jolt shuddered through her, and she struggled against a tidal wave of feelings that threatened to swamp her. All she could do was hang on as wave after wave assaulted her, leaving her trembling with weakness.