Blood of His Fathers (Sinners and Saints)

by Michelle Chambers

  The library door opened and then closed loudly behind her. She froze. Her heart jumped painfully in her chest and blood rushed loudly in her ears. Someone had entered and moved with heavy, measured steps toward her.

  Jess spun about. She angled her head and tuned her senses for some clue, some hint of recognition. There was none. She backed away as her panic surged, her breath escaping on a tight whisper.

  “Who’s there? Mr. Henry?”

  The footsteps drew closer. Eyes wide, she watched the figure of a man draw near without breaking stride. He was too tall to be the elderly caretaker.

  She scrambled backward and gasped. “Who are you? What do you want?”

  She glimpsed his face in the half light and knew him at once. Her breath locked in her chest as he backed her toward the full-length marble statue.

  “Tell Tom I won’t give Jake up,” she blurted with a defiance she didn’t feel.

  He stilled. Jess lowered her gaze to his mouth, her memory filling in what she couldn’t clearly see. She shook off the incredible desire to touch him, to have his lips on hers and know his taste. She drew in a shaky breath. The air was cold and dry in her throat and her voice rasped.

  “I won’t give Jake up.”

  The bright white of his eyes narrowed. “I haven’t come to take your son away from you, Jessica. Tom didn’t send me. I’m here because of Sean.”

  She reached a steadying hand behind her and grasped the cold stone there. Her other hand went to her breast as she tried to quell the erratic beat of her racing heart. Her questions, her confusion, were lost under the loud roar of Sean’s name exploding through her brain.

  “Sean.” She whispered her disbelief.

  She berated herself for the weakness in her voice. She didn’t want to give this man any impression other than that of someone in complete and utter control, but…Sean? She hadn’t seen or spoken to her brother in almost fourteen years. Sean’s name belonged to the past along with everything else she wanted, needed, to forget. Yet in a matter of moments its very utterance had brought the past back in one powerful, painful surge.

  Sean had always been uncontrollable and unpredictable, but it was only after their father died that he truly changed. He’d joined a local street gang, rising through its ranks within months to become their leader. Yet every week he would send money. Money Jess had refused to touch, although her mother had no such qualms. Their mother had chosen her own path and Sean’s side—closing her eyes to his violence, his aggression and his criminal dealings.

  Jess raised her gaze to the lambent eyes steadily watching her. She had nothing to do with her brother’s life, but would this man hold her accountable for it anyway? She could try racing for the door. He stepped closer, placing his body squarely in front of hers as if she’d spoken the thought aloud.

  “I haven’t seen Sean in fourteen years,” she said. “I-If he’s done something…if he owes you money…please, a-allow me time—” She closed her eyes, hating her stutter. “I have a son.”

  The air warmed upon her face and she frowned at the slightest touch of his hand against her cheek. She opened her eyes into his. She found it hard to breathe when he looked at her with such intensity. His gaze dropped to the soft rise of her breasts and she touched her tongue to her glossed lips. She pressed her back against the cold stone, welcoming the diversion of its sobering effect against her bare skin. His eyes flitted upward to hers.

  “If I was going to hurt you, Jessica, I would’ve done so already,” he murmured.

  “Then, what do you want?”

  “I want you to come with me,” he said.

  He was too composed, his voice too calm. Jess swallowed nervously. He wasn’t giving her a choice.

  “Why?”

  “The why is for later,” he parried.

  Goosebumps rose on the back of her neck and crept down her arms. Sean had been at his most dangerous, too, when his voice was most quiet.

  “And if I choose not to come?”

  He stepped forward. “I don’t want to think of what might happen to your son if you don’t.”

  Jess gasped. Her eyes widened, searching his in the darkness and pleading for him to understand. She dug her fingers into the cold stone behind her certain it was the only thing keeping her upright.

  “Jake has nothing to do with Sean. And I can’t pay Sean’s debt.”

  “That’s not what I’m asking, Jessica. But I need you to trust me.”

  “To come with you?”

  “Yes.”

  She shook her head and frowned. “Why can’t we talk here?”

  He placed a hand beside her head on the plinth and leaned forward. He watched her, his expression unreadable even across the part of his face illuminated by moonlight.

  “This isn’t open to negotiation, Jessica.”

  Fear and uncertainty roller coastered through her veins, and yet she couldn’t deny the vortex of desire churning inside her too. It was absurd. It was crazy. And in her predicament, it made absolutely no sense at all. But he felt their attraction too. She was sure of it.

  She heard it in the way he said her full name and had felt it as a shiver passed through him to her when their fingers first touched. She saw it in his eyes every time he looked at her, and it was there now in the way his breath exhaled hotly against her lips. She raised her hands to his chest to draw him closer…to push him away. She didn’t know. His mouth lowered to hers and then stopped.

  Frustration, disappointment and relief warred in her heart as she sensed him pull back. She shivered from the rush of cool air hitting her skin, hardly knowing what to make of the onslaught of wanton feelings coursing through her.

  Chapter Two

  He’d offered her his coat when they stepped from the library into the snow-covered quadrangle. She’d refused it. But when her elegantly, if not foolishly, sandaled feet lost their footing he’d caught her easily to him, swinging her into the warmth of his arms. Despite her objections, he’d refused to put her down until they’d reached his sleek black car. She’d been startled, mortified, charmed…and confused.

  She shifted her gaze from the weaving traffic and rolled her head against the soft leather headrest to his strong profile. He sat next to her relaxed behind the wheel, navigating the nocturnal streets. Strips of neon streetlight scanned him from head to waist, sporadically highlighting bits of his clothing, his face and his hair. His brow was slightly furrowed and his eyes focused studiously on the road ahead.

  “I’m sorry I made you lie to your friend,” he said.

  Jess raised her eyes and met the intense light of his. She folded her arms tighter across her chest in a futile attempt to shield herself from the effect of his gaze on her body. Their eyes held a moment longer before he returned his attention to the road, shifting gear and pulling onto the highway. They’d left the confines of the town behind, and the only person who would’ve found her sudden disappearance strange. Claire.

  But he’d asked her to call Claire. To tell Claire that she was fine. That she was with her ex-husband. Tell Claire, he’d said, Tom needed to talk. He’d regretted their divorce and he wanted her back.

  Claire had sounded aghast, concerned, worried, but Jess had remained calm and convincing.

  “I can’t say when I’ll be back,” she’d said, “but I’ll call you.”

  Claire had no more questions after that.

  Jess turned her face to the car window and watched her breath condense against the glass. She should’ve left clues—said something, but then what would’ve happened to Jake?

  She didn’t know his name, but there really was no point in knowing it anyway. She wasn’t sure what the outcome of this night would be, and she was too afraid to ask. He’d promised not to hurt her, hadn’t he? No, not promised. He’d asked her to risk her life. To make a decision that could have hidden consequences for her son.

  The gentle purr of the car’s engine soon obscured the sound of her thoughts and her eyes drifted closed. Resistance
was futile, so she closed them completely.

  It seemed like mere moments had passed when her name rang through her head. She smiled. She liked the way he said it. Consciousness alerted her to the material draped about her body. It was heavy and soft and smelled familiar. Just five more minutes. She burrowed deeper into the cozy warmth. He called her name again. He?

  Her eyes opened slowly and began to take in her surroundings. It wasn’t a dream.

  “You’re awake. And just in time.”

  And he was real.

  Her gaze shifted to the blue digits lighting up the dashboard. Ten minutes to three.

  She slowly straightened in her seat. Don’t panic, Jess. Breathe.

  They’d been traveling for nearly six hours and she’d slept for the greater part. She pulled the coat tighter about her shoulders. She hadn’t wanted him to show her any kindness or consideration, but she was grateful for it anyway. Although she couldn’t bring herself to say thank you. Not yet.

  She looked out onto the undulating scenery outlined against the early morning sky. Despite the lack of streetlamps or moon or stars, the darkened sky shimmered under the gossamer hue of blue-white snow blanketing the rugged landscape. She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue and fixed her gaze on the jagged ridges of faraway hills. He could kill her at any time and no one would know to find her body out here in the icy wilderness. She shivered at her own macabre thought.

  They continued their journey through thick woodland along what must once have been an old coaching path.

  She dared to ask. “I’m just in time for what?”

  “Not what you think,” he said.

  Jess swept her eyes upward to his profile. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Don’t you? You have nothing to fear from me, Jessica. You’ll see your son again. I give you my word on that.”

  She squeezed her hands tightly together and tried to restrain the spark of hope springing in her heart.

  “Your word? Can I trust your word?”

  He glanced at her. “I’m not Sean. You know you can, Jessica.”

  She leaned back against the plush seat, grateful for the shadows hiding her face, and watched the patches of darkness retreat under the glare of the car’s powerful headlights. Yet she could discern nothing through the dense expanse of brittle snow-covered trees. Not a house or landmark or sign.

  “Where are we?”

  “The Scottish Highlands.”

  “The Scottish Highlands? Why?”

  Her voice faltered as she glimpsed a bright spot of light shimmering in the distance. She sat up and took notice. The closer they got the larger it became.

  The trees started to peel away, revealing a stretch of snowy ground and a patch of dark sky.

  “Where are we going?”

  “We’re almost there,” he said.

  The car meandered a few moments more and then she saw it. The seventeenth century Jacobean manor standing alone and impressive amid the secluded, snow-swept landscape.

  “Madeley. My home,” he said.

  She heard the pride in his voice and couldn’t keep the awe out of her own. “It’s beautiful.”

  They drove closer to the remote dwelling and Jess glanced in stunned silence from the house to its owner and back again.

  Floodlights illuminated the manor’s front façade, casting light onto the snow-covered forecourt. Silhouetted towers rose up against the blue-black sky and an orange glow flickered through a large downstairs window.

  The car stopped.

  She intended to walk to the front door herself, but he was already at her side sweeping her off her feet. She expected him to set her down on one of the stone steps leading up to the ornate entrance, but he kept her in his arms as he put the key in the lock and carried her like a bride over the threshold. Jess couldn’t repress that thought or the soft gasp that escaped her lips as they entered the exquisite seventeenth century hall. The lighting was muted, but there was no mistaking the rich and luxurious Jacobean architecture, ornate swags and plaster ceiling with its intricate knitted design.

  Her arms tightened of their own accord about his neck and her gaze fluttered down to his. For a moment she was aware of nothing except the sound of his breath mingling with her own and the strong feel of his hands through the layer of her clothes. She couldn’t help but wonder how they would feel against her bare skin, stroking her thighs and cupping her breasts—spanning her waist. To have him next to her, naked and so completely male.

  She caught herself staring and lowered her gaze, pushing her hand gently against his chest. He cleared his throat and set her down. This time, she uttered a murmured thank you before she could even think about censoring it and wrapped her arms about her waist, grateful he couldn’t see her blush.

  “This way,” he said moving forward.

  The hallway opened out onto a wide, central staircase with an elaborately carved balustrade. At the top of the stairs, where the stairway rose left and right was a large square mullion window. He waited patiently for her to draw level before opening the door behind him.

  She entered a large room that wasn’t unlike the hallway except the polished wood paneling covered the entire wall and was subdivided by pilasters carved with sprays of flowers in low relief. All in all the complex plasterwork ceiling and paneled frieze contrasted inexplicably well with the modern Japanese style sofas. Lots of earthy colors too—she liked that—complementing canvases and sculptures of clearly Chinese and Asian influence. The sound of rhythmically falling water at the far end of the room completed the satiating impact on her senses.

  A highly crafted wooden mantelpiece enclosed the fireplace from floor to ceiling. She moved across the room toward the fire blazing in the carved stone opening and gazed at the heraldic relief on the central panel.

  “King James Coat Of Arms,” he said coming to stand behind her.

  She nodded, unable to hide her interest. “I’ve always had a fascination for history.”

  “Me too.”

  He indicated one of the elegant sofas close to the fire. She perched on its edge, resisting the urge to kick off her shoes and surrender to the sumptuous array of colorful cushions strewn about the open hearth. They fairly teased her with promises of comfort and sanctuary beneath the soft glow of the firelight. She accepted the proffered glass of wine and raised her eyes to his. Apprehension slammed into her once more.

  “Is there no one else here?”

  He shook his head. “I’m hardly here myself. But on the rare occasion I do come home I have my housekeeper warm the place up.”

  Jess lowered her gaze to her lap. She felt painfully naked under his scrutiny, even with his coat on. She laced her fingers about the tall stem glass to stop them trembling.

  * * * *

  Jason McCormack leaned against the fireside wall and studied the woman sitting with bowed head. Her slim, squared shoulders, the slender curve of her neck. The nervous rise and fall of her breasts, the reddish-brown hue of dark hair and glowing copper-tinted skin. She still had his coat on, but he’d memorized the snug gown she wore. Narrow in the waistline and hugging her curves like a dream. He’d taken it all in.

  He’d been drawn to her the moment he first saw her on the train, her reserve and aloofness deterring the lesser of men. He almost smiled as he remembered how the two brave souls who’d attempted to engage her in conversation were left smarting from the experience. Yet she’d been attracted to him. He knew it, sensed it. He felt their sexual pull, although he’d be willing to bet she would be damned before she admitted to the attraction scorching the air between them right now.

  They’d come close, under the anonymity of darkness, to sharing one incredible kiss. He wanted to kiss her right now and have her naked beneath him in the firelight. To hear her sound of pleasure when she came undone in his arms. But after tonight there wouldn’t be a snowball’s chance in hell of Jessica letting him get that close to her. He should’ve kissed her when the opportunity presented its
elf.

  As the words crossed his mind, her eyes lifted to his. He stared into the autumn pools, bright with innocence and wide with incomprehension. In a matter of moments he was going to shatter that innocence and hurt her, but she needed to hear the truth. She needed to know the truth if she was going to survive this. If they were going to survive this. He slowly reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and retrieved the white envelope there.

  He pulled out the letter and stepped toward her. “Read this.”

  “Is it from Sean? You must understand,” she said, not taking the letter. “Sean and I have been estranged for more than fourteen years. I don’t know if I can help him, or what it is you expect from me.”

  He stepped closer, his eyes widening slightly. He hadn’t noticed the delicate dusting of tiny freckles across the bridge of her nose before, their faint sun-kissed tint now bright in the fire’s light. He looked into her eyes. What he was about to do gave him no pleasure at all.

  “Read the letter, Jessica.”

  Her gaze averted nervously from his, but she took the letter and read it. He followed her eyes with his own as she read the words that would ultimately change her life after tonight. He watched her expression and knew the moment she’d fully absorbed the impact of their meaning.

  Curiosity and disbelief, shock then anger rippled across her features. The letter and her drink spilled from her hands onto the dark oak floor. She sprang to her feet all indignation and elegance wrapped up in his long, black coat.

  “Where did you get this? Who gave you these lies?” she demanded.

  Her lips clamped together and her eyes fluttered closed. She clasped her hands tightly against her stomach and struggled to calm her breathing.

  “It’s the truth,” he countered softly.

  “No, it’s not!” she parried. Her eyes flashed her anger. “Letters can be forged.”

  “Look at the date on the letter, Jessica. It was addressed to your mother twenty years ago.”