The Lost

by J. D. Robb

  Once again they’d forsaken the banquet-sized table in favor of a small round one set in a corner of the room near a bank of windows overlooking the gardens. For the past hour they’d talked about books and music, discovering that each of them loved the same authors, and they even described the same scenes from several of their favorite operas.

  While Cullen seemed to revel in each new discovery, for Aidan it was an eerie feeling to have such an intimate connection to a stranger. Except that the more time she spent with Cullen Glin, the less a stranger he seemed to be.

  “Why don’t we take our coffee and dessert in the library?”

  She nodded. “But just coffee. I’m afraid I don’t have room for dessert after that wonderful meal.”

  He turned to Bridget with a smile. “Just coffee, Bridget. We’ll be in the library.”

  Once there, Cullen watched as Aidan studied the photographs arranged on a side table.

  “Your mother?” She pointed to the plump woman with her arm around a young Cullen.

  “Yes.” He walked over to stand beside her. “You’d have loved her.”

  Aidan heard the affection in his voice.

  “Is this Ross?” She lifted a framed photo for a better look.

  “Indeed. That was taken when he first came to live with me.”

  “So young?” She glanced up in surprise. “I mean . . . I thought he was merely your lawyer.”

  “He is. Considered one of the finest in the country now. After university here he studied at Oxford, and then in your country, at Harvard.”

  She peered at the photograph. “But here he’s . . .”

  “Sixteen.” Cullen chuckled. “You’d be hard-pressed to discern that rough-and-tumble youth as the same polished man who’s persuaded judges and juries across Ireland in his clients’ favor.”

  They both looked up as Bridget carried in a silver coffee service and filled two cups before taking her leave.

  Aidan and Cullen settled into chairs pulled in front of the fire.

  Cullen stirred sugar into his coffee. “What do you think of Ross?”

  Aidan shrugged, wishing she could evade the question. “He’s charming and smart and funny. And, without question, devoted to you.”

  Cullen nodded absently. “No more than I am to him.”

  “And yet you’re not related?”

  He glanced up. “Not in any legal sense. But without Ross Delaney, I doubt I’d be sitting here.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Many years ago, Ross saved my life. I was in Dublin on business, and met an old friend at a pub. We drank a bit too much, and when I left, I made a wrong turn and found myself in an unfamiliar neighborhood. I was a perfect target for punks, and a couple of them attacked me.” He shook his head. “I fancied myself a pretty good fighter, but I was no match for those street toughs. I was having my hide kicked when suddenly one punk fell, another let out a cry and the lot of them ran screeching like banshees into the night.”

  “Ross?”

  He nodded. “He came out of nowhere and fought them off like a man possessed. I was bloody from head to toe, and this wiry lad, who looked as though he couldn’t lift a sack of potatoes, carried me to my hotel, hauled me to my room and cleaned me up before putting me to bed and phoning for a house doctor.” He frowned, remembering. “In the morning I was alone. I walked that same street, giving his description to everyone I could find. Nobody claimed to know who the lad was. But finally a girl who plied her trade on the streets said it had to be Ross Delaney. She showed me where he stayed most nights, and sure enough, there he was, asleep in the doorway of an abandoned factory, my blood still on his clothes.”

  “He was sleeping on the streets?”

  “He was, yes.”

  She thought about what Ross had told her. His mother had left before he could talk. “Where was his family? Who raised him?”

  “From what I learned, he pretty much raised himself. He lived with his father until around the age of eight, when, after being beaten nearly senseless in a drunken rage, Ross left.”

  Aidan thought about the fact that she’d never seen Ross take a drink of alcohol. Now she understood why.

  “He just left? At eight? Where could a boy of that age possibly go? How could he survive?”

  “He hid out on the streets of Dublin. Learned from other lads where the best scraps of food could be found and where it was safe to sleep.”

  “What about school?”

  “He’d had little schooling when I first met him. I offered him money for saving my life. He refused my money, even though I could see that he was in desperate need of it.” Cullen stared down into his coffee. “There was something so noble about the lad, I found myself drawn to him. By then I’d acquired a great deal of wealth, and nobody to share it with. My search for Moira was going badly, and I needed something or someone on whom to focus. Getting the lad out of that miserable existence became my mission.”

  “How did you persuade him to trust you?”

  Cullen smiled. “It took a while, but I can be very persuasive when I’ve a mind to be. I brought him here and hired tutors to see just what he could do. To their amazement, and mine, we discovered that he had a fine mind and an inquisitive nature, and because he’d been on his own for so long, was far superior to most lads his age. He was soon excelling at academics, and I realized that he could do anything he set his mind to.”

  “What about his family? Did he ever try to contact them?”

  Cullen gave a quick shake of his head. “They’d abused and abandoned him long before he abandoned them. Why should he ever look back?”

  Why, indeed? She mulled all she’d just been told about the fascinating Ross Delaney.

  “And so, by some strange twist of fate, a street fight brought me the son I’d never had. And like a true son, he now shares my life.”

  “That’s generous of you.”

  “Not at all. He actually saved a drowning man. I’d been drowning in self-pity. Even though I’d already amassed a fortune, I was drinking heavily, and my life had no direction. At first I thought I was doing this poor down-and-out lad a favor. But in the end it was Ross who was helping me, teaching me. After hearing about his father’s abuse, I stopped drinking. Now, on the few occasions that I indulge, I need only think about what some have gone through because of another’s drunkenness, and it sobers me instantly. It was Ross who pointed out the poverty of the town of Glinkilly, and how my fortune could be used to make a change. I was too self-centered to think beyond my own pain until Ross showed me the way. So you see, my dear, his love and loyalty have rewarded me many times over. And it was Ross who, because he refused to give up on my search, finally located your mother, and through her death, you.”

  “What an amazing turn of events . . .”

  They both looked up when Ross, accompanied by Meath and Mayo, stepped into the room. His hair was wind-tossed; his cheeks ruddy from the night air. He looked rough and dangerous, and his eyes, when he looked at Aidan, were stormy.

  “Bridget said I’d find you here.”

  “Ah, Ross.” Cullen indicated the chair beside Aidan. “Come warm yourself by the fire. Why don’t you take that chair next to Aidan.”

  Was it her imagination, or did the sly old man appear to be pushing the two of them together whenever he could?

  “The lass and I have been having a lovely chat. I’m sure you won’t be surprised by this, but we’ve discovered we have much in common.”

  Including strong feelings for a certain mysterious man.

  The thought startled Aidan and she found herself looking from the old man to the younger one.

  She was drawn to Ross Delaney. And, she believed, he was equally drawn to her, or as much as a man like him could be.

  But that didn’t mean they had to act on their feelings. Within forty-eight hours she would be winging back to America.

  Why did that fact suddenly leave her chilled?

  “. . . isn’t that so, my
dear?”

  She looked over. “Sorry. I seem to be dreaming.”

  She saw Ross watching her a little too carefully and felt her cheeks color.

  “Don’t apologize. This has been quite a day for both of us.” Cullen gave her a gentle smile. “We both need a good night of sleep.”

  She nodded. “You’re right. I’ll say good night now.”

  “Good night, my dear. I look forward to the morning. Ross, why don’t you see Aidan to her room?”

  “No.” She spoke quickly before turning to Ross. “Please stay and visit with Cullen. Good night.”

  She turned away, needing to flee the dark, dangerous invitation in his eyes, which spoke to a similar need in her heart.

  Her legs were actually trembling as she climbed the stairs and fled to the safety of her room.

  Aidan stood by the window and stared down at the gardens that looked as though they’d been drenched in liquid moonlight. The fragrance of roses was carried on the breeze, teasing all her senses.

  She should be tired. Instead, she felt strangely energized. She wanted to blame it on the stimulation she’d felt while working on the Farmers’ Cooperative ledgers, but that would be a lie. It was true that she missed her job. Missed the thrill of adding columns of figures and the satisfaction of making them all balance. But in this case, the cause of this restlessness wasn’t a job, but a man.

  Ross.

  She’d missed him at dinner. Much more than she cared to admit. Missed him like an ache around her heart that wouldn’t be soothed. And afterward, when he’d walked into the library, she’d fled like a coward rather than stay and face him.

  She’d wanted to stay. To listen to that deep, rich voice and bask in the glow of that sultry blue stare. Instead she’d run.

  And all because she wanted him. Wanted to feel his mouth on hers, his hands on her. Had wanted it since the first time she’d seen him. And when he’d dared to touch her, to kiss her, a storm had been unleashed inside her that was threatening to drown her.

  She shivered. There had been men in her life. Friends, coworkers, lovers. Not one had ever aroused her as this man did, with nothing more than a look. Not one of them had ever touched something deep inside her as he seemed to, even though they’d shared but one brief kiss.

  She paced the length of the room, then back, feeling oddly disjointed. Again she had the feeling that she was losing control. As though something outside of her was manipulating her as if she were a puppet, and she was helpless to do anything but go along.

  Without a thought to the consequences, she slipped out of her nightclothes and into the aqua silk dress. For warmth she picked up one of the cashmere throws from a footstool and tossed it about her shoulders before descending the stairs.

  Once in the garden she made her way along the moon-lit path and breathed in a jolt of cold, fresh air, hoping to clear her head. Instead, it only reinforced her need to hurry. Hurry.

  Her footsteps were quick, her heart racing. She refused to think about what she was about to do. It may be too bold, but there was so little time. And she wanted, needed desperately, to get to Ross.

  As she drew near his cottage, the two dogs rose up out of the darkness and gave a welcoming bark. Just as quickly, they dropped down and fell silent.

  Aidan looked around. Though she hadn’t heard Ross’s voice, she knew that he’d been the one to give the command to Meath and Mayo.

  And then she saw him. Standing in the shadows, still dressed as he’d been in the library, his hair wind-tossed, his eyes fierce.

  Her voice sounded breathless. “I was afraid you’d be asleep.”

  “I couldn’t sleep. I’ve been waiting for you.” He stepped closer and took her hand, drawing her to him.

  “You knew I’d come?”

  “I sensed it. I prayed you would.”

  “And if I hadn’t?”

  “I’d’ve come to you.” He smoothed a hand over her hair, all the while staring into her eyes. “I’ve been struggling to deny this since I first saw you. Fighting the need for you.”

  “We don’t even know each other.”

  “True. But there’s no denying what we feel.”

  “We don’t have to act on it.”

  He merely smiled, that dangerous smile that had her heart pounding in her temples.

  “Ross, I . . .”

  “Shh.” He touched a finger to her lips and drew her inside the cottage.

  In one smooth gesture he turned her in his arms, pressing her firmly against the closed door.

  And then his hands were in her hair, his mouth fused to hers, his kiss so hot, so hungry, he was nearly devouring her. His body was pressed so tightly to hers, she could feel him in every part of her being. His chest rising and falling with each labored breath. His frantic heart keeping time with her own. His mouth, that clever, incredible mouth, moving over hers, taking her higher than she’d ever been with a single kiss.

  Her shawl fell to the floor at their feet, forgotten in their haste. When his hands moved to the zipper at the back of her dress, she gasped and stepped away.

  “I can’t stay. This is madness.”

  “Don’t leave me, Aidan.” His mouth burned a trail of hot, wet kisses down her throat to her collarbone.

  She was staggered by the flood of sensations that shot through her.

  Heat. She was so hot, she couldn’t seem to catch her breath.

  Light. Behind her closed lids a kaleidoscope of lights battered her senses.

  Need. A desperate, driving need gripped her, and she knew that she had to run. Now. This minute. Or it would be too late.

  “I can’t do this. I don’t know what’s come over me, but you have to believe that I feel as if I’ve lost my way.”

  He pressed his forehead to hers, struggling for breath. “I do believe you, Aidan. It’s the same for me. I’m walking a very thin line, and just now I very nearly crossed it.”

  He opened the door. “Go now. And whatever you do, don’t look back.”

  She ran along the path leading to the mansion. In her haste, she never even noticed that she’d left the cashmere throw behind.

  Ross picked it up and buried his face in it, breathing in the fragrance of her cologne, the smell of her skin, and wanting, more than anything, to run after her.

  It took all of his willpower to remain where he was.

  Seven

  Aidan stepped into the sunny dining room and watched as Cullen and Bridget, heads bent, quickly looked over at her and stepped apart.

  “Good morning, my dear.” Cullen walked over to press a kiss to her cheek. “How did you sleep?”

  “Fine.” She wondered if, up close, he could see the lack of sleep in her eyes. She’d paced the room until, in the small hours of morning, she’d finally fallen into an exhausted sleep. An hour later she’d wakened feeling as though she’d been running for miles across an alien landscape. But she’d wondered, had she been running from something, or to something? “And how did you sleep?”

  “Like a baby.” He looked up to see Ross in the doorway. “Ah, Ross. Good morning.”

  “’Morning.”

  Aidan knew she was staring, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. He was wearing faded denims and a black turtleneck. His dark hair sparkled with droplets from his morning shower. He looked like a sleek, restless panther about to pounce on an unsuspecting prey.

  She wanted to be that prey.

  Cullen cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

  Aidan and Ross broke eye contact and glanced over.

  “The Farmers’ Cooperative is having its annual meeting. With all the excitement here, I nearly forgot. I can’t miss it.”

  Ross was the first to recover. “Of course you can’t. Why is that a problem?”

  Cullen shrugged. “I was hoping to give Aidan a tour of the property. But now there’s no telling how long I’ll be tied up.” He paused before adding, “Would you mind filling in for me, Ross?”

 
“Not at all.”

  Cullen caught Aidan’s hands. “I hope you don’t mind, my dear. I assure you Ross will be every bit as thorough a guide as I would be.”

  “Of course he will. We’ll be fine, Cullen. But I’m sorry you can’t be with us.”

  “Can’t be helped. Well, then.” He turned away. “I’ve asked Sean to bring the car around. I’ll probably be gone most of the day.”

  He winked at Bridget before calling over his shoulder, “I hope you two can make the best of it.”

  “We’ll do what we can to salvage the day.” Ross watched him walk to the door.

  When Cullen was gone, Bridget wiped her hands down her apron, looking flustered as always. “I hope you don’t mind, but Kathleen decided to make omelets and toast with country ham, in order to give you both time to tour the property. She said she’d be happy to make you anything more, if you’d like.”

  Aidan was busy pouring coffee into two cups. “The breakfast Kathleen already made sounds perfect, Bridget. It’s as though she read my mind.”

  The old woman coughed.

  Aidan took a seat at the table, and Ross sat beside her. They were careful to avoid touching, sitting stiffly and looking extremely uncomfortable.

  “And you, Ross?” The old woman paused beside him. “Would you be wanting anything else?”

  “Not a thing. Thank you, Bridget.”

  Aidan looked over. “Where’s Charity this morning?”

  “Himself gave her the weekend off.” Humming a little tune, the housekeeper walked from the room, returning with their breakfast. That done, she didn’t reappear until Aidan and Ross had finished eating.

  As she cleared the table, Bridget glanced out the window. “If you’re hoping to give the lass a tour of the property, you might think about doing it as soon as possible, before the rain rolls in.”

  “Rain?” Ross looked up. “There’s not a cloud in the sky.”

  “Not yet. But trust me. ’Twill rain.”

  Ross stood and held Aidan’s chair. “I’d planned on riding this morning. How do you feel about seeing the countryside on horseback?”

  “Oh, could we?” Aidan couldn’t keep the excitement from her voice. “I haven’t been on a horse since I was a kid.”