Heart of Gold

by J. R. Ward

  Turning the dial to the right, twice to the left, and then back again, he heard the tumblers release and then pushed down on the brass handle. Lights came on inside, something he’d always thought of as a nice touch, like the thing was just a really sturdy little refrigerator.

  He was looking for the cross, knowing that holding it in his hand would give him solace. It was something he had done over the years when feeling conflicted.

  But before taking it out, he was distracted by the familiar stacks of leather boxes containing some of his grandmother’s jewelry collection. On impulse, Nick reached in and picked up a small one that was covered in Cartier’s brilliant red. He unlatched the lid.

  A diamond ring glistened in the dim light. The stone had been given to his grandmother upon her engagement to Rufus Lachlan Farrell. The ring had outlived both the giver and receiver, and Nick thought it was a shame that such a magnificent piece was locked up in a safe.

  Nick remembered his mother coveting the diamond, not because of its size and quality, although it was stunning on both accounts, but because it had been worn by a woman she couldn’t compete with. Nick’s grandmother, known as Ma Farrell, had been a consummate hostess, a prize-winning gardener and, in an era when women like her were supposed to lead the inactive lives of “ladies,” she was also a horsewoman, a poker player, and a swimmer. She was charismatic, charming, and loved by anyone who’d ever met her.

  Nick’s mother, Sarah, had been the opposite. She was willowy, not strong, and socially insecure and aggressive, not gracious and likable. She’d also suffered from a bottomless appetite for approval and had always been resentful because she never seemed to get enough. Making things worse, she’d had to endure the Oedipal hardship of knowing her husband, Ashland, infinitely preferred spending time with his own mother over her.

  This burden might have been easier to bear if Ashland had had some bizarre attachment to Ma Farrell. Sarah might have been able to leverage an embarrassing pathology into guilt-induced fits of spending at Tiffany’s. The truth, however, was both more prosaic and difficult. The man just liked his mother’s company, and his wife had never forgiven him for the split of affections.

  This had been the reason for Nick’s birth, or so he’d heard. Sarah had figured that by becoming a mother, she could get her husband to stop fixating on his own. It proved to be an ill-conceived strategy. Ashland had made room for his son, right next to the mother he adored, and his wife, instead of finding herself in higher regard, was squeezed out even further.

  Which was why Nick had always had the sense his mother despised him.

  It was capricious cruelty, or perhaps mercy, that Sarah’s life ended before the woman she had hated passed on. Ma Farrell survived her by almost a decade, and the diamond ring had gone on plying the dirt in the gardens at the edge of the lake. After his mother’s death, Ashland had had the ring appraised and then put it in the wall safe. It hadn’t been worn since.

  Nick’s favorite story about the diamond was one Gertie had told him. Ma Farrell’s active lifestyle had meant the platinum setting had taken a beating over the years. When Ashland took it back to Cartier to get it evaluated, the jewelers had offered to put it in a brand-new setting.

  “You don’t reset a life, gentlemen,” Ashland had said. “That ring earned those nicks and someday, if it gets passed down, the woman who wears it is going to know exactly who put them there. It’s a legacy to live up to, not something to be replaced.”

  Nick looked at the band, seeing the scratches in the surface of the metal, and was shaken as he imagined the diamond on Carter’s finger. Returning it to its box, he was struck by the fact that he’d been in and out of the safe for years and had never bothered to look at the ring before.

  Refocusing on a lower shelf, he rifled through stacks of money and shoved aside about $100,000 in gold Krugerrands that he’d pushed into the safe two weeks ago. Behind the largesse was the felt bundle he’d taken that day to Carter’s.

  Going over to his desk, he unveiled the cross. The aged wood, cracked in veins, seemed to glow.

  A familiar feeling in his stomach returned, caused by the colliding of his family’s private history with the history of his country. He thought once again of the men who had died on what was now his land. He was, as always, moved.

  And then he froze.

  That strange shift in gravity was how he felt when he was around Carter. How he felt when he thought about her.

  This was what had always been missing. He’d never felt truly moved by a woman before. He could stand next to them and forget they were in the room at all, could leave the country without missing them, could walk away without second thoughts.

  But Carter, she consumed him. Challenged him with her quick wit and her intelligence. And when they were making love, he felt whole.

  Nick sucked his breath in as he struggled with that familiar fear of his.

  Rolling up the artifact carefully, he realized something was changing inside of him.

  And he was never going to be the same again.

  12

  TWO WEEKS later, Carter and the team were on their hands and knees, laboring under a bright sun, when they hit the halfway point. In spite of the heat and their progress, there was no celebration over the accomplishment. They continued to work, steady and determined.

  Carter noticed only because she paused to take a drink and saw how much distance they’d covered. The ground inside the circle of boulders was now split down the middle into a higher and a lower level. It was the result of countless hours of trowels slicing into the earth and dirt rushing into plastic buckets.

  The site had proven to be a rich one, and many artifacts had been found, some more significant than others. Back at camp, collapsible containers had been expanded to accommodate all manner of arrowheads, pottery shards, and musket balls, and more kept coming. The day before, Cort and Ellie had found the remnants of a Brown Bess, the gun used by redcoats during the Revolutionary period. Luckily, the metallurgic appointments on the weapon were in good shape, and some of the wood had survived as well. It was quite a find, and everyone was thrilled that it might have been used by one of the men whose remains had been unearthed.

  As for the skeletons, they had been removed from the ground, and the bones were now carefully housed in boxes stashed out of the sun’s heat. As they were the most precious of the finds, Carter found herself increasingly anxious to get them over to the university where she knew they would be safe. She didn’t want anything to happen before she had a chance to study them.

  She glanced over at Cort and Ellie. The two were joking and laughing together, their eyes flirtatious as they jostled over a trowel. She thought back to Cort’s early infatuation with her and was glad he had come around so well.

  Her next thought was of Nick.

  The night before they’d stolen off together for a midnight boat ride. The moon had glimmered over soft waves as they’d slowly cruised the shoreline, the sound of the Hacker’s throaty engine and the call of loons accompanying their trip down the lake. She’d leaned against his chest, snuggling into his warmth, and felt a terrible temptation to believe that the warm summer evening was going to go on forever.

  Although the physical pleasure Nick gave her was intense and satisfying, she did her best to keep her heart to herself. There were moments, particularly after they had a deep conversation about his past or her plans for the future, when she could feel him struggling. He would get a faraway look in his eyes, as if he were searching for an escape, and tension would run through his body. Even though he hadn’t shown any inclination to follow through on the impulse, she remained wary.

  There was another reason she wanted to keep a level head. She’d remembered where she’d heard of CommTrans, the company mentioned in the papers on his desk. The man who owned it had accused Nick of falsifying financial documents. It had been all over the news, to such an extent that even she, far away from the financial hubs of the world, had read about the soured dea
l and the ongoing investigation. Even though the drama had nothing to do with their relationship directly, the idea that he’d misled someone deliberately stuck with her.

  And there was one other thing bothering her. Always in the back of her mind were Conrad Lyst and the missing logs. The other morning Buddy had shown her a series of footsteps in the soft earth. Tracing the path, they’d weaved their way through the trees until they’d reached the back trail. There, like the wake of a small army, were so many more of the prints that they blended together in places, flattening the hard soil.

  Ivan came up the back way on occasion but he’d never leave those kinds of footprints. She and Buddy and the kids used only the front trail. And considering the homogeneity of the tracks, it was doubtful the markings had been made by curious tourists. It just had to be Lyst.

  As soon as they’d returned to camp, they’d both agreed the skeletons needed to be removed from the mountain in the next few days. Although the gold was what Lyst really cared about, there was no telling what he might do.

  Neither she nor Buddy was going to take any chances with the man.

  Carter pitched a shovelful of dirt into her bucket and noticed it was full. She was getting to her feet to empty it outside of the ring of stones when Nick stepped into the clearing.

  A flush came over her body and she watched as the corners of his lips rose ever so slightly. It was a special smile, meant only for her.

  “If this isn’t a tribute to industry, I don’t know what is.” He casually walked across the site, but his eyes were on her. The others greeted him with various hellos.

  “I didn’t realize you’d made it this far,” he commented when he was standing in front of her.

  “Come and look at this,” she said quickly, feeling awkward and excited by his presence. She went over to a box that housed a few shards of pottery. “We found these this morning.”

  As she put one of the pieces into his hands, her fingers touched the skin of his palm. His smile deepened.

  “How old is it?” he asked as he examined the wedge of dull, baked clay.

  “Over a thousand years, perhaps.”

  “Amazing.”

  “This has been a popular spot for people over the centuries. That fire pit has seen a lot of things.”

  Nick gave the artifact back to her, stroking her wrist as he did. “Have you found anything else from the Winship party?”

  Distracted by his touch, Carter stumbled over her words. “Er—no, but we’ve still got a lot of digging to do.”

  “And there’s no gold.”

  “No gold.”

  He walked over to where the fire pit had been before they’d dug it out. “How much longer until you’re finished?”

  “Three weeks or so.”

  “Then what happens?”

  “I get to see my wife again,” Buddy muttered.

  Carter caught the approval on Nick’s face as her friend mentioned Jo-Jo. To her relief, the two men had been getting along much better.

  “As soon as we’re done, we hit the lab,” she replied. “There is going to be a lot of analysis to do. Then we write up the whole dig along with any conclusions we come to.”

  Buddy put his shovel down and got to his feet. “After that it’s the rubber chicken dinner circuit.”

  “Making presentations at various universities,” Carter amended, shooting him a mock glare. “Depending on what we find, that can last a short time or upward of a month or two.”

  “Is it a drag?” Nick asked.

  “Hell no,” Buddy said enthusiastically. “It’s the closest thing we archaeologists get to being rock stars.”

  They talked a little more about the dig and then Buddy and the kids took a break and wandered back to camp for a cool drink. As soon as they were alone, Nick wrapped his arms around Carter. She breathed in his scent, catching his tangy aftershave.

  “Hi,” he said against her lips. “I’ve missed you.”

  Closing her eyes, she soaked in the feel of his body against hers. “You saw me last night. Or do I have to remind you what we did under all that moonlight out on the lake?”

  He moved against her. “You want to show me again?”

  His tongue slid between her lips and she arched toward him. Sliding her hands under his shirt, she stroked his skin until he groaned. The heat that flared between them made her think of the stream’s rushing water, of having him naked with her in one of the pools.

  She was about to suggest going over to it when they heard Cort and Ellie’s laughter.

  Reluctantly, they pulled apart.

  “Too bad we’re not alone up here,” Nick said in a rough voice.

  “I was going to suggest hitting the stream.”

  “We’ll have to remember that for later.”

  The kids came through the circle of boulders and looked much cooler as they ambled back over to where they’d been digging. To Carter, the idea of settling back down to work wasn’t as attractive as it usually was. She was distracted by Nick and what she wished they were doing together.

  It sure as hell didn’t have anything to do with shovels.

  “So what’s the technique here?” Nick asked, going over and picking hers up.

  “You ever plant anything?”

  “Once. It was some vicious gossip about a competitor to the WSJ. But the guy started it.” He shot her a wink.

  She couldn’t help but smile up at him. “I was thinking more like lily bulbs.”

  “Then I’d have to say no.”

  “Ever play in a sandbox?”

  “Nope.”

  “Okay, how about make a divot when you hit a golf ball?” She knew he was teasing her.

  “That’d also be a no.”

  “You don’t golf?”

  “I don’t divot.”

  Carter laughed.

  “God, I love to see you smile,” he said softly as he leaned over to her. “Among other things.”

  Carter snatched back her shovel and blushed. “Do you really want to learn how to do this?”

  “If it means I can be with you, absolutely.”

  “All right, then, get on your knees.”

  “I thought you’d never ask,” he drawled in a husky voice.

  When Buddy returned, she and Nick had their heads in the dirt, examining a set of bones that appeared to be those of a deer.

  “You find the missing link?” Buddy said cheerfully as he came over.

  “More like what he had for dinner,” Carter murmured.

  “You having fun?” the man asked Nick.

  “Absolutely. I find it…absorbing.”

  With a glow, Carter realized he was looking at her. She avoided his eyes, trying not to blow her cover around her team.

  When they went back to work, Nick whispered in her ear, “So when do I get to see you again? Alone.”

  She glanced up, feeling a rush.

  “Well, I’m going over to Burlington a couple of days from now,” she said quietly. “You could come with me—”

  “I don’t know if I can wait that long.”

  “Forty-eight hours?”

  “That’s two days.” He let out a groan.

  “I see corporeal delights haven’t compromised your math skills.”

  He laughed. “I’ll go with you to Vermont, but only if you promise to not keep your hands to yourself.”

  “I think that can be arranged.”

  Nick reached out and stroked her cheek. The movement was lightning fast but poignant.

  “I have to go. Business is waiting.” He got up and stretched.

  Carter smiled at him, sorry that he was leaving. “I’d hate to have dirt get in the way of progress.”

  “So would my shareholders.”

  With a last lingering look at her, he disappeared into the woods.

  On the way down the mountain, Nick thought about how Carter could catch and hold him with just her eyes. It wasn’t simply because they were beautiful, though their cobalt blue color was arre
sting. It was more the combination of strength and vulnerability that got to him. And that, when unguarded, she looked at him with an expression that made him feel like he could leap tall buildings in a single bound.

  He was looking forward to the trip to Burlington like it was Christmas.

  When he entered the kitchen, he saw Gertie was up to her elbows in dough. She was kneading the prenatal bread in a deep wooden bowl, and flour was pouching up in puffs of white smoke as she punched and folded, punched and folded.

  As he used to do when he was a child, he leaned on a doorjamb, crossed his legs at the ankles, and wiggled the tip of his boot.

  “What are you nervous about?” she asked.

  “Who said I’m nervous?”

  “You’re waving that foot like it’s a flag.”

  He stilled himself.

  “I’ve been spending a lot of time with Carter. I’m growing rather…fond of her.” He couldn’t believe he was actually saying the words.

  “Yes, I’ve noticed.” Gertie pushed the bowl away, draped a dish towel over the top, and washed her hands. “She’s a good woman. What are you all beside yourself for?”

  Nick took a deep breath. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, I hope you keep on seeing her.” Gertie took her apron off, a gingham affair that had been washed so many times, it was a pale pink. “By the way, her father called today.”

  Nick stopped breathing. “What?”

  “William Wessex called.”

  “How did you know he was her father?”

  “I asked him because their last names are the same. He called to say he was coming up this weekend and bringing someone with him. Said you were going to want to see them. He seemed surprised to find out Carter was here.” Gertie frowned.

  “Did he say anything else?”

  “Just that he wants to talk with you and he’d wait by the phone for your call.” She looked at him strangely. “Are you okay?”

  He nodded and left for his study in a hurry. He was not going to have Wessex up to the house. No way in hell. He wasn’t going to jeopardize his relationship with Carter.