A Highlander for Christmas

by Christina Skye

  Right, she thought. That’s just what she’d said before the backhoe came careening out of the night. Before she noticed her room had been searched. And if nothing was wrong, why didn’t Jared come back?

  When a hand closed over her leg, she almost screamed.

  Branches brushed her face as a figure crawled close and crouched down beside her.

  “J-Jared, is that you?”

  “You were expecting someone else?”

  Relief flared at the sound of that rough whisper. “What took you so long?”

  “I had to answer some questions. I told you to wait in the car.”

  “I was restless. Is it … him?”

  “Not unless he’s a better actor than I thought.”

  Maggie’s breath slid out in a hiss of relief.

  “You’re shivering.”

  “C-cold.” A lie, of course. She’d been terrified, busy painting bleak 3-D scenarios of what could have happened to him.

  “Come here.” He eased her against his chest and pulled the fallen tartan around her shoulders. Even then she couldn’t relax.

  “Talk to me, Maggie.” He ran his fingers along her cheek. “Where are all those inventive insults when I need them?”

  She drew a jerky breath. “I’m fine, okay? J-just fine. And I wasn’t Worried. Not a bit. Not even when you took forever and I saw an owl fly right over my head and you didn’t come back.” With a choked sound she turned, her gaze locked on his face. “I thought he’d found you. I thought you’d never come back.” Slowly her hands rose. “I thought…” Her hands slid against his chest, shaking hard.

  “I’m here. I came.” Jared felt her touch sizzle through him like live electricity. Through her open hands came the churning storm of her fear in cold, smoky waves.

  Strange how often emotions could be reduced to strong colors. And right now those colors were all over him, radiant as living things.

  But he refused to slip any deeper into her feelings. The intensity of touch always left him drained, and tonight for some reason it was far worse.

  Because this was Maggie, because she turned him inside out in spite of all his noble resolutions.

  He forced his mind back, focusing on the dark world around them. Restless trees. Damp earth. Wind from the east with a hint of coming rain.

  Don’t slip into her mind, fool. Don’t give in to temptation and ride down deep, no matter how much you want to find out how many other men there have been and how they hurt her.

  “Jared, what is it? What’s wrong?” She was very still, staring at him, one palm open against his chest. That simple touch was enough to hold him in torment while her thoughts blazed naked through his head.

  “Jared?”

  The touch was burning him, twisting him inside out. He had to force his jaw to move. “Wrong?”

  “You weren’t moving, almost not breathing. Are you sick?”

  Sick. How he wished it were so simple. Then a simple prescription could return his life to order. No more brushing against strangers in a crowded room and feeling the agonizing slam of their chaotic thoughts. No more sensing what people would say before they said it.

  Focus. Remember all the ways you’ve learned to control this thing you do.

  He took a hard breath and let it out slowly.

  “I’m not sick.” Not in a way she or any doctor would recognize.

  “Then what’s wrong? If it’s not the man from London, we’re safe, aren’t we?”

  He looked at the shadows dappling her smooth cheeks. Without even trying, he read the fear that climbed in her chest.

  Fear of losing him.

  With a silent curse he twisted away, breaking the contact. He had no right to jaunt through her mind and pick up secrets. Some things were still sacred.

  At least they should be.

  “Jared?”

  “I want to be sure it’s not someone else sent to harm you,” he said tightly. “A few calls should do exactly that.”

  He pulled at his back pocket and found his cell phone.

  “Are you calling the police?”

  “Someone better.”

  “Lord Draycott, you mean?”

  “No.”

  Static hummed, and then a groggy voice answered. “Do you have the faintest idea what time it is?”

  Jared muffled a chuckle. “All too well. Sorry to rouse you, Izzy, but I need some answers.”

  Instantly his friend’s sleepy tone vanished. “What kind of network am I entering?”

  “Institution. I need an auto plate verified.”

  “Give me a few seconds to get inside.”

  “No traces, remember?”

  The man on the other end sniffed. “As if I ever leave traces.” A keyboard clicked swiftly. “What’s the number?”

  Jared repeated the string he had memorized.

  At the other end of the line Jared’s friend made a swift set of entries, then gave a low whistle. “You neglected to mention that this is an official plate.”

  “How official?” Jared asked quietly.

  “Sussex Police Force. You know they have secure systems.”

  “That should slow you down for about three minutes.”

  With a soft laugh, Izzy Teague clicked out a new string of entries. “Code is only as good as its designers. And it happens that I know most of them. Late at night at a software trade show people talk. There’s an irresistible urge to brag about a recent bit of genius in a new code string. And with a little nudging…” His breath caught. A low chuckle drifted over the line. “Bingo, we’re in. Now let’s see what’s here. Two vehicles out for repair. Four registered for transfer. Here’s the active list. No. No. No. No.” More clicking. “Got it. Registered for official use.”

  “Any internal list to show the current driver?”

  Fingers tapped. “It’s registered to a Detective-Sergeant Wakeford.”

  “First name?”

  “Adam.”

  “Thanks, Izzy. That’s all I need for now, along with the main switchboard number.”

  “I won’t even think of asking why. Here it is.”

  Jared scrawled down the number. “Get some sleep, Izzy. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

  “It already is the morning,” his friend muttered before ringing off.

  “What was that all about?” Maggie whispered.

  “The vehicle on the road is officially registered to the Sussex Police Force. That much checks out. Now we determine if it’s where it should be. And with the right person.”

  “You think the officer might be some kind of imposter?”

  Jared could sense her shaping questions and inching away from the dark possibilities that came as answers. “It’s possible. Until I’ve ruled that out, we’re staying right here.”

  He waited for her to protest, but this time she was silent. She looked off to the north, where the dark towers of the abbey were visible against the sky. “You’re right. I only wish you weren’t.”

  He put his hand on her cheek. “I wish I weren’t too.”

  He pulled away and then dialed a new number. Static gave way to a precise male voice.

  “Sussex Police.”

  “I would like to report a suspicious automobile parked on my property.”

  “Name and location?” The question was clearly routine.

  “Lord Draycott. The driver and car are parked at the end of my drive here at Draycott Abbey.”

  There was a momentary hesitation. Papers shuffled. “Are you calling from the property right now, Lord Draycott?”

  “I am.”

  “Would you please identify the license plate of the vehicle in question?”

  Jared repeated the string he had given to Izzy.

  “I see.” The officer cleared his throat. “As it happens that is one of our cars, Lord Draycott. After your earlier request for a police presence, we sent a man over immediately.”

  Jared sat back slowly. “My … earlier request.” He took a short breath, thinking
hard. “That was most prompt of you. I confess, you’ve caught me off guard. I’m very sorry to have troubled you.”

  “Nothing to worry about. Anything else I can do for you?”

  “I have two guests coming in tonight. In fact they should be arriving any moment I’d appreciate it if you’d pass their names on to your officer: Jared MacNeill and Margaret Kincade. Do you have that?”

  “I’ll radio the information through right now. Wouldn’t want any false arrests.”

  “Absolutely not.” Once in a night was more than enough, Jared thought irritably. “By the way, I’d like the name of your man on duty. Just to thank him properly.”

  “Detective-Sergeant Adam Wakeford. Let us know if you have any more problems, my lord.”

  “Indeed, I shall. Good night to you.”

  Jared rang off, staring out into the rushing darkness. There was no possibility that Nicholas Draycott had called for police presence without notifying Jared first. He would phone Nicholas in London later to be sure, but Jared was certain this little scenario was a warning. It was their friend from London, once again proving he could stay a step ahead in the twisted game he had initiated.

  Jared shoved the cell phone back into his pocket. Suddenly the night’s silence had turned threatening.

  “He checked out?” Maggie wiggled closer. “Is it okay to go inside now?”

  There was a leaf dangling from her hair, and her eyes were huge. Jared felt a wave of anger tear through him. He had underestimated their enemy back in London, but he would not make the same mistake again. “He checked out perfectly.”

  “But why is the police car here?”

  “It seems Nicholas called them.”

  Maggie frowned. “And he didn’t tell you? That doesn’t sound like something he would do.”

  She was too sharp, Jared thought. “He probably tried to call me, but the cell phone was out of range. It happens quite often, I’m afraid.”

  She looked down at her locked hands. “I … see.”

  She didn’t believe him. Jared could feel the tension emanating from her, half buried beneath her exhaustion.

  He turned away, careful not to touch her again.

  He didn’t want to feel her thoughts. Right now he didn’t even want to feel his own.

  ~ ~ ~

  Detective-Sergeant Adam Wakeford was young and tired. He lurched from his car as Jared crossed the drive toward the bridge. One hand locked anxiously on his belt as Jared rolled down his window.

  “Officer Wakeford, I believe?”

  “That’s correct. And you would be whom?”

  “Jared MacNeill. This is Ms. Kincade. Lord Draycott phoned for you to expect us.”

  Some of the stiffness left the officer’s shoulders. He peered briefly inside the car, then nodded. “Go right on up, Mr. MacNeill. It’s all quiet out here. No sign of any trouble tonight.” He stifled a yawn, clearly irritated at a useless assignment.

  Jared wished he felt half so confident. He maneuvered the long, twisting drive, remembering other nights and other visits to the old abbey.

  Quiet dawns. Lazy afternoons of silence spent trying to recuperate after Thailand.

  He looked at Maggie, who was bravely struggling to keep her eyes open. “Right now all you have to do is fall into bed and sleep until you feel like waking. I’ll bring up your bags.”

  “Sounds like heaven to me,” she mumbled, hiding a yawn.

  They stopped before the weathered granite walls of the gatehouse. Moonlight dusted the windows and lay like snow across the quiet courtyard.

  Maggie looked behind her. “Fortunately, there don’t appear to be any madmen in backhoes jolting up the drive.” She opened her door and started toward the house, one bag under her arm.

  “I’ll take that,” Jared muttered, shifting Max to his other arm.

  “Thank you, Jared. Right now I’m too tired to fight.” She frowned. “But maybe in the morning you’ll tell me the real reason that police car was waiting down by the bridge.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Damask roses in cut crystal vases.

  What appeared to be genuine Constable landscapes on the wall by the French doors.

  Maggie took a long, slow breath. “So you’re not in Kansas anymore,” she whispered to an empty room. She was feeling edgy and she could have told herself it was from the emotional backlash of the last two nights, but Maggie knew the source lay in this ancient home, in the aura that clung to every corner. Even a person with no imagination could feel the weight of history in rooms where kings had plotted and wars had been launched. Here long generations of Draycotts must have dabbled in court intrigues from rooms with secret tunnels for swift escapes.

  History? But why did it feel so familiar?

  Maggie sank slowly back into the antique poster bed. Draycott Abbey was compelling, but so far there had been no more strange lapses of awareness.

  Wind brushed her neck, and she turned to see a sleek form pacing over the floor. The gray cat moved regally, his amber eyes keen and unblinking.

  “I hope I’m not taking your room.” Somehow it seemed perfectly normal to speak to the cat. “Where did you come from?” As if in answer, the French door creaked open, pale curtains floating in a ripple of cold air from the balcony.

  The cat stopped beside the bed and stared up at Maggie, as if waiting for an invitation.

  “Be my guest.”

  The bright eyes blinked. Ears back, the creature jumped onto the silk coverlet, circled once, then sank into a ball.

  As a rule, Maggie wasn’t a cat lover, but there was something different about this one. Like the rest of the great house, he seemed keen. Still. Waiting…

  Which made no sense. She had simply gone too long without a decent rest, and her nerves were in a state of meltdown. That was the only explanation for this odd fantasy she was weaving about a simple cat.

  Except that looking into those unblinking amber eyes, Maggie had the definite impression this was far more than a normal cat.

  She turned as Jared appeared at the door, barefoot and minus his jacket. To Maggie’s disgust he looked good enough to eat.

  “I see you’ve met the abbey’s real lord and master.”

  “The cat? He certainly does make himself at home. I hope this wasn’t his room.”

  “Every room at the abbey is his, according to Nicholas and Kacey. Good thing that I left Max asleep back in my room. I’ve had enough excitement for one night.” He bent to the bed. “Yes, my big friend, you’re special and you know it, don’t you?”

  Gray ears perked forward. A long, liquid meow rippled through the room as Jared worked a hand over the intelligent head.

  “I didn’t even hear him come in.” Maggie studied the French doors, still rocking in the wind. “I suppose one of the latches came loose.”

  “I’ll check it.” Jared just kept petting. He looked mesmerized.

  Maggie crossed her arms. “So?”

  No answer.

  “Was there something you needed to see me about?”

  “Nothing in particular Just to check if you needed anything.”

  “I’ll be fine.” She studied the gleaming silk walls. “But there’s a sort of feeling here. Something I can’t put my finger on.”

  “Welcome to the club.” Jared pushed to his feet with silent grace. “The more you see of the abbey, the tighter it will hold you. No one ever understands all its secrets, not even Nicholas.”

  Maggie’s brow rose. “You don’t have to do the haunted manor routine with me.”

  “I’m not.” His voice was dead sober.

  “Whispers in the corridors? I didn’t like it here before, but that had nothing to do with ghosts or strange lights in deserted wings.”

  His eyes narrowed. “What did it have to do with?”

  Maggie locked her arms across her chest. “Too much beauty. Too much mood and history, I suppose.” She gave a crooked grin. “I’m an artist. Things like that are supposed to set me off.”
>
  “Still no memories?”

  She shook her head. Some part of her hoped that the lost memories stayed lost.

  “After a while, you might change your mind about this house.” Jared moved to the balcony and peered out into the darkness. Then closed the doors and latched them securely. “Most people come to love it here.” He turned, studying the cat on Maggie’s bed. “So are you staying or going, my friend?”

  The cat’s tail flicked once. He looked from Jared to Maggie, and she could have sworn those keen unblinking eyes were searching for the answer to questions she couldn’t even imagine.

  When Jared went out, the cat was close behind him. Maggie heard faint bells echo over the dark hills. For some reason the sound made her uneasy.

  It took longer than it should have to quiet her mind and slip free of the house’s spell. As she drifted down into sleep, Maggie swore to control her restless imagination. There would be no more dreams of flying horses against a wild sky.

  No more dreams about death and betrayal.

  ~ ~ ~

  Muttering softly, Jared bent forward and tapped a command on his keyboard. In disbelief he watched the screen flicker. This query, like all his others, brought no answers.

  All official records declared Daniel Kincade dead of an air mishap over Sumatra. Nothing had changed to call that statement into question. There were no secret financial transactions, no pending legal actions, and no covert attempts to tap into the savings account that Kincade had left for his now-deceased wife.

  All was as it should be, at least on the surface.

  But Jared had never settled for surface appearances or easy answers. More than once his persistence had nearly gotten him killed.

  Beside him the gray cat purred companionably and rubbed his head against the edge of the flickering screen.

  “No luck. The bloody man is either dead or he’s a genius at burying himself deep. And his daughter can be almost as irritating.” But far more intriguing, especially when her eyes flashed and her laughter filled a room like sunlight.

  The cat gave a low purr, his tail flicking from side to side. Jared slid his hand over the sleek fur.

  “I know. She twists me up in knots every time I touch her.” He remembered Maggie’s face when he’d kissed her in the car and the hot, sweet storm of her desire. His body responded instantly to the memories.