A Laird for Christmas

by Gerri Russell

  “What is wrong?” David asked.

  Jane brought her hand up to her mouth. “It is a little tough.”

  David cut a small bite and popped it into his mouth. His expression darkened. “The crust is like leather.” He glared at Colin. “Too much flour.”

  Colin picked up one of his oatcakes and tasted it. “God’s teeth,” he growled and tossed the uneaten portion back into the pan. “They taste like wood. Nay,” he clarified, “they taste worse than wood.” The depths of his disappointment shone in his eyes.

  “At least you both can cook when, perhaps, less flour is involved,” she offered with a note of cheer as she moved on to Jules.

  Jules’s earlier confidence was no longer present as he held out a plate of brown and black cookies toward Jane. “Your favorite?”

  “Almond cookies.” Her gaze moved to the cook hovering near the door. “I see Marthe has a clear favorite.” Jane accepted one of the less burned offerings and took a small bite. She chewed carefully, then flicked the remnants of charred almonds from her lips. “They are delicious, Jules. A little burned, but delicious nonetheless.”

  “Ye burned the cookies?” Marthe shook her head. “How could ye burn the cookies? I gave you precise directions of what to do.” She frowned at Jules.

  Jules bristled. “The oven was hotter than expected. They might look a bit burned, but they taste all right. Jane said so herself.” He popped one of the thin cookies into his mouth, then frowned. “No they do not.” His gaze caught and held Jane’s. “They taste terrible.” He snatched the cookie from her hand and returned it to the plate. “So much for my cooking skills. Only one more contestant to go.”

  All eyes turned to Nicholas.

  Nicholas’s heart sped up as he reached behind him for a shallow pan with a thin piece of linen over the top.

  “What is it?” Jane stepped closer, peering at the dish with raised brows.

  Nicholas pulled the linen back to reveal his snowy white creation. Not a hint of flour dusted the surface, only a thin layer of glistening sugar. “I call it snow.”

  “Snow?” Jane, Lady Margaret, and Marthe all repeated at the same time.

  Marthe hurried across the room to peek at his entry. She frowned. “It doesn’t appear to be cooked at all. ’Tis just cream.”

  “There you are wrong.” He handed Jane a spoon. “I frothed cream, rosewater, and sugar together, then dusted it with more sugar. If you look closely, the sugar on top has been crystalized with heat.”

  “It looks like snow.” Jane exclaimed as she punctured the delicate surface with her spoon. On her spoon, his creation sparkled like diamonds in the candlelight. She brought it to her lips and tasted it.

  Nicholas watched Jane work her tongue against the fluffy cream, and heat stirred in his veins. He had to win this competition. If only to keep the others away from her. “What do you think?”

  She closed her eyes and drew a slow, even breath. “It tastes like heaven,” she moaned. “Sweet, light, and unique. It looks like a snowy Christmas morning. Definitely a winner.”

  The words he had longed to hear.

  Groans of disappointment filled the room. Those groans turned to appreciative responses as Jane passed the “snow” about the room for the others to try.

  The last to judge his creation was Marthe. She scooped up a big spoonful and tasted. A heartbeat later her eyes widened and she smiled. “Wherever did you get this recipe?”

  “From you.” He moved to the back wall and reached on the top shelf of the cupboard for her one and only cookbook. Excellent and Approved Recipes and Experiments in Cooking. “Without your help, I never would have won this competition. Thank you.” He leaned close and pressed a kiss to the cook’s cheek.

  “You devil you.” Marthe turned red from her neck to her forehead. “You have won yourself time alone with Lady Jane, after you men clean up my kitchen.” She looked pointedly at each of them.

  “Not to worry, Marthe,” Jules said, picking up a broom from the corner. “We can clean better than we cook.”

  “What are your plans for Lady Jane?” Bryce asked with suspicion. “I hope you will do something to keep her safe.”

  “That was my intention,” Nicholas replied, catching Jane’s gaze. “For our time alone, I give you the gift of time alone.”

  At Jane’s quizzical expression he explained, “I want you to enjoy a bath in your chamber while the rest of us spend the evening tearing this castle apart. It is time for us to gain the upper hand before the villain strikes again.”

  “That is quite a sacrifice.” Lord Galloway took Lady Margaret’s hands and drew her to him, holding her close. “You would give up time alone with Lady Jane in order to protect her?”

  “I will do anything and everything to see Lady Jane safe.”

  “A true hero.” Lady Margaret nestled into Lord Galloway’s arms.

  Not a hero, Nicholas corrected. Simply a man desperate to win Jane’s love for a lifetime.

  Nicholas gathered with the men in the great hall after supper that evening. “We will work in teams of two. I want every room in this castle thoroughly inspected. Look at every wall, every surface. Use the candelabras to determine if there is airflow in a room where there should be none.”

  “The villain is getting around the castle without being seen. There must be an explanation for this,” David added.

  “Another explanation besides the supernatural.” Jules arched his brows in amused challenge.

  “Besides a ghost,” Lord Galloway echoed. “What need have they for secret passageways?”

  “I still cannot believe you gave up time alone with Lady Jane for this.” Bryce shook his head.

  “Perhaps that was my plan all along.” Nicholas smiled. “What better way to earn Lady Jane’s good graces than to sacrifice our time alone for her welfare?”

  David raised his brows. “Excellent foresight.”

  Jules frowned. “Let us stop wasting time. I want to find whoever is after the Lennoxes and their heirs. So tell me, Nicholas, what exactly are we looking for?”

  “You gave me the idea after you said you retrieved Jane’s doll, Meriwether. We now know there is at least one priest’s hole left over from the persecution. The Lennoxes would have been sympathetic to the plight of the Catholics. They could have built one or more secret passageways or hiding places.”

  “Are we to tear down the paneling and pull up floorboards?” Colin asked.

  “Nay,” Nicholas replied. “Priest holes were usually situated in places where there might have been empty space—as an offshoot of a chimney, in an attic, beneath a staircase.”

  “We should be able to hear the hollowness of the walls by tapping on them,” David offered. “I know at Hathaway Hall we have a priest hole that connects with the garderobe. My ancestor’s theory was that no one would ever want to look there, therefore those hiding in the empty space off the exit hole would be fairly safe.”

  “Brilliant,” Jules agreed.

  “Often the hiding places were subterranean in nature, with the passages evolving into a thousand windings to discourage the priest hunters,” Nicholas explained. “Do not discount the floorboards.”

  “Where do we start?” Lord Galloway asked, coming to his feet.

  “You and Bryce take the great hall, the buttery, and the servants’ hall,” Nicholas said, motioning toward the doorway. “David and Colin, you take the south and east wing and towers. Jules and I will explore the north and west wing and towers. Whoever finishes their exploration first, move down to the storage rooms.”

  The men departed to their assigned spaces, leaving Jules and Nicholas alone. “Where do you want to start?” he asked his friend.

  “I want to go back to the north tower. All the sightings of Lady Lennox’s ghost there have to mean something.” Jules straightened and a look of determination shone in his eyes.

  “Sounds as good a place as any other,” Nicholas agreed.

  They left the chamber and proceed
ed up the stairs to the hallway where he and Jane had previously explored. For the next hour, they tapped on every inch of the walls and floor, finding nothing.

  “If we continue at this pace, it will take us well past Christmas to complete our search.” Disappointment laced Jules’s voice. “I say we split up and cover twice the territory.”

  Nicholas frowned. “You may be right; however, what if you come into contact with—”

  “Do not be my nursemaid, Nicholas.” Jules’s hand went to the sword at his left hip. “I am stronger than I look.”

  Nicholas knew better than to argue with him. He simply nodded and asked, “Where do you want to look next?”

  “I will take the west tower. What about you?”

  Nicholas returned his gaze to the long hallway before him. “I will keep searching the bedchambers.”

  On a nod, Jules left him for the tower.

  Nicholas drew a fortifying breath and moved to the bedchamber on his left. This chamber had been assigned to Lord Galloway. Nicholas entered. He inspected each wall, each nook, each divot in the floorboards, to no avail. He had similar results in Colin and David’s chambers. Bryce’s chamber had a layout similar to the others he had just inspected. However, when he studied the chamber, he could not help but think something in this room was different.

  The room faced northwest, receiving the light from the morning sun through the chamber’s only window. Nicholas frowned. That was odd. The other rooms he had searched had sported two windows that had once been shuttered and were now fixed with glass panes.

  Nicholas closed his eyes and tried to imagine what this wall of the castle looked like from outside. This aspect of the castle faced the open field where they had sparred. He put himself back there and turned toward the castle, counting the windows. They were situated in pairs of two. Ten windows he recalled.

  He opened his eyes and went back out into the hallway, counting the bedchambers. There were five rooms along the outside wall of the castle. Five rooms with two windows apiece.

  Except for Bryce’s chamber.

  Nicholas’s heart jumped, pounding at the discovery. He returned to Bryce’s chamber and bent close to the wall where the other window should have been. He felt along the cool stone, searching for any anomaly. The wall was clean of cuts or levers. Disappointment welled as he moved to the hearth. The small bedroom fireplace abutted the adjoining wall. Nicholas tapped and tapped the stone, expecting nothing, when all the sudden he heard a soft echo beneath his hand. He rapped again, not believing his ears. The sound came again. The fireplace. There had to be an opening near the fireplace.

  Nicholas dropped to his knees, inspecting the floor. He ran his fingers over the wooden floorboards. Rough texture brushed his fingertips, then suddenly something smooth. He grabbed the candle and inspected it more closely. Fine lines were etched into the floor. He followed the lines to an almost imperceptible crack in the wall. Slowly creeping his fingers up the wall, he came to a small pebble that stood out from the surface.

  He pressed.

  A door swung open easily, and noiselessly, on well-oiled hinges.

  Nicholas stood in the opening to reveal a black space that ran alongside the stone of the hearth.

  A secret passageway. Grasping the candle, he stepped inside.

  Jane eased herself into the steaming water of her bath and forced a stab of disappointment away. She was grateful to Nicholas for this time alone. She had had so little time to herself since her suitors had arrived at Bellhaven. Even so, the thought did not quell the sensation of loneliness that enveloped her.

  With a sigh, Jane settled back against the copper tub, hoping the scented steam would work its magic. Before her suitors had arrived at the castle, she had had no idea how alone she had been, or how isolated she had forced herself to become.

  She closed her eyes. In two days’ time, she would no longer be alone. She would be married.

  And despite his winning only one challenge so far, she knew which of her suitors her bridegroom would be.

  Her heart had decided long ago.

  A creak sounded, a whoosh of cool air shimmered across her skin, and she sensed a presence.

  Jane startled and reached for the linen sheet draped at the edge of the copper tub. “Who is there?” Where had she set her dagger?

  She pressed the sheet to her breasts, shielding herself, then twisted to look behind her.

  Nicholas. Her pulse danced and skittered at the sight of him.

  He stood by the hearth, frowning. Behind him was a gaping hole in the wall. “Good heavens.” Her eyes widened. “A secret chamber?”

  “Aye. It leads from Bryce’s chamber to yours.” His gaze warmed at the sight of her.

  “Turn around,” she commanded.

  He turned.

  She stood and wrapped the bath sheet around herself.

  “Who assigned the bedchambers to your guests?” he asked, his tone harsh.

  “I did, and believe me, when I did, I had no idea there was a direct route from Bryce to me.” She shivered at the thought of who might have entered her chamber unbeknownst to her. She shivered again as she stared at the lean backside of the man who had entered her chamber now.

  “Keep your back turned,” she insisted as she dropped the bath sheet, replacing it with a dressing gown. She picked up the towel and rubbed it against the ends of her hair that had dipped into the tub. She had just finished toweling her hair dry when he turned around, his eyes searching hers.

  He came forward and took the linen from her hand and tossed it aside. He lifted his hand and ran his finger along her jawline. His calloused finger was rough against her flesh, sending chills through her. She knew he wanted to kiss her, and she was amazed by how much she wanted to kiss him.

  But he did not kiss her. He simply waited, staring at her with those dark, hungry eyes.

  Then he ran the pad of his thumb over her lips and she barely bit back a moan at how good it felt, at how good he smelled, at the tension that rippled between them. The force of it took her breath away.

  Just when she thought he would kiss her, he pulled away and shut the false wall. “I need to block this opening so that it can never be opened again from the inside.”

  Her heart pounding, she nodded. “Let me help you.”

  Together, they found a thin piece of wood in the holder near the hearth. Reaching for her dagger that she had left on the floor near the pile of her clothes, he whittled the wood down. Before he slipped the wood under the door, he took her hand and guided it toward a lever alongside the fireplace. “In case you ever need this tunnel,” he explained, “push the small mechanism and the door should spring free.”

  She nodded as he slipped the wedge of wood under the edge of the door, effectively blocking it from opening.

  “There,” he said, standing back to admire his work. “That should keep whoever is using the tunnel out.”

  “You are certain someone is using the tunnel?”

  He nodded. “There were no cobwebs over the pathway and footsteps showed in the dust on the floor. Though the chamber most likely originated during the last century, it has been used much more recently.”

  Calmly she met Nicholas’s gaze. “I am glad it was you who came through the passageway and not someone else.”

  He gave her a smile, but it slipped away. “I have a feeling there are more tunnels like this one throughout the castle.”

  She frowned. “Then we will find them and block each of them as we do.” She hesitated a moment, thinking of the implication of the secret tunnels. “If there are a series of them, then that certainly explains how someone can appear then disappear all of a sudden.”

  “But that person would need to have a history of this place to accomplish that task.” Nicholas’s brows knit together. “If you did not know about the tunnels, then who else did? Your father, your brother, Bryce?” He shook his head at that. “Bryce seemed genuinely baffled by the idea of secret tunnels earlier.”

  J
ane pressed her lips tight. She refused to accept that any of them would use the tunnels to cause harm. “I believe in Bryce’s innocence. I think he is just as in the dark about the true nature of this castle as I am.”

  A scowl darkened Nicholas’s features. “I do not understand the man. I have no idea if he is good or bad.”

  Jane shrugged. “I imagine it is somewhere in between, as we all are. I do not think life has been entirely kind to him. That fact has made him cynical and angry.”

  Nicholas ran a hand through his hair. “The anger I can understand.” He paused, then after a long moment continued, “I do not know whether to trust him or not.”

  “I do,” Jane said quietly.

  “He will have to prove it to me.”

  “He will, in time.”

  With a weary sigh, Nicholas moved to tend the fire that had died down during her bath. “You always did have a soft heart, especially for the downtrodden.”

  Her thoughts shifted from Bryce to the Nicholas of her past. He had been handsome and charming and breathtaking upon his arrival. Yet in the days that had followed, she had also seen another side of him; one that was much more fragile than he would ever admit. She could sense deep suffering in him.

  She flinched. Was that the reason he had taken her brother’s dismissal from Bellhaven so hard? Did his pain go so deep that he could not tolerate even one more rejection?

  Jane stepped closer to the flames, closer to Nicholas, and ran her fingers through her wet hair, watching him stoke the fire. She became acutely conscious of the strength of his hands as he spread the coals, then added more wood. Flames leapt and writhed on the long-dry wood. But it was not the flames that drew her attention.

  She watched the muscles of his thighs peek out from beneath his plaid, the bunching of his shoulders beneath his soft linen shirt as he settled the screen back into place. Suddenly, she wanted to reach out and touch him, freely, as she had in the past when it was just the two of them. As she had just last night.

  “Nicholas,” she asked, stepping closer to him. “Will you answer a question for me?”

  He stood and turned toward her. “What kind of question?”