He felt something strange along with the wind. It was as if he had been riding a long time, as if he had been afraid for a long time….
Crystal neared the road.
The truck was coming fast. Far too fast for a night when snow lay thick on the ground, when ice could too easily lie beneath it.
Crystal and he soared over the road. Over the broken fence.
Jillian, on her sled, was sliding toward him at what seemed to be the speed of light. She opened her mouth in warning and confusion.
He raced on, straight toward her. When he was almost on top of the sled, he veered Crystal and made a leap from the horse’s back, catching Jillian, tumbling violently with her from the sled and into the snow.
They rolled. Snow packed around him. Ice-cold flakes stuck to his nose, his lips, his forehead. Gasping, shaken, Jillian tried to push him away while dusting snow from her face, blowing it from her mouth.
“You idiot! What in God’s name—”
They heard the crash. The awful sound as her sled hit the road and the truck hit the sled.
The driver either didn’t see the splintered wood or didn’t care. He kept up his reckless speed, roaring on around the curve in the road.
The sled lay in pieces on the ground.
“Oh.” Jillian barely breathed the word.
Shaking, he stood and reached down to her. She took his hand and rose, looking into his eyes.
“Thanks,” she murmured huskily. “That’s why we have the fence…. I guess someone ran into it or something. I—I didn’t even realize it was down.”
“Neither did I. Earlier,” he added.
“Jillian!” Griff was rushing up to her, grabbing her, turning her around, checking her from head to toe. Daniel came behind him, followed by Connie, then Eileen, who had crashed into the fence laughing, apparently unaware of what had happened. Theo came down the hill, sliding, falling, rising to run again.
“My God, Jillian!” he cried. “You could have been killed!”
“Killed?” Eileen exclaimed. “But what—”
“The fence,” Gary said, reaching them more slowly. “Eileen, the fence is down.”
“Why didn’t we see it?” Connie fretted. “We’ve all come down dozens of times.”
“We were over to the side, Mrs. Murphy,” Gracie said, reaching them. “We never came down so close to here until the two Ms. Llewellyns decided to race.”
“Oh God, Jilly.” Daniel took Jillian from Griff, hugging her to him like the best of older brothers. He looked terrified.
He still held Jillian as his eyes shot to Robert’s. “Marston,” he said huskily, “I can tell you, I had my doubts, but you’re one hell of a company asset.”
“I was just in a good position.”
“A good position?” Connie exclaimed. “It was like Saint George slaying the dragon.”
“The truck was nowhere close when he crossed the road, Connie,” Griff told her. “You’re getting too dramatic.”
“I don’t know about that,” Jillian said, drawing away from Daniel. “I’m awfully grateful. But everyone, please. Not a word to Grandfather about this, all right? ‘All’s well that ends well,’ right? Please. Don’t say anything to him. Some idiot teenager with a new license probably ran down the fence.”
“Might just have been a woman driver,” Gary teased.
“Or a drunk,” Griff said.
“Anyway, we’ll get it fixed. Please, let’s not worry Douglas needlessly.” She spun around, staring at him again with her huge beautiful eyes. “I’m truly grateful—you saved my life—but I don’t want him upset. Please.”
“I don’t need a pat on the back from Douglas,” he said. “If you don’t want him to know, I won’t say anything.”
“We’re all agreed, right?” Jillian insisted, turning again to look at all of them.
“We’re all agreed,” Daniel said firmly. “It was an accident.”
“And thanks to Robert,” Theo agreed, “it’s over.”
They all nodded.
Robert turned, realizing he was missing the horse. Crystal was gone.
“Don’t worry,” Jillian said, touching his arm. “Crystal just headed back to the stables.” She smiled. “He likes it here. Comfy place for a horse. Jimmy will find him and take care of him.”
He shook his head. “I took him out. I’ll see that he’s back in his stall.”
He walked away from the group, wondering how something could be so wrong in a family that appeared to be so close.
* * *
That night Jillian managed several times to almost forget her harrowing experience. Dinner was delicious. Moods were light. They’d worked hard, then they’d played hard. The snow had been cold, but the house was warm as toast. Agatha and Henry had prepared dinner between them, and even shy Jimmy came in from his room off the stables to join them. The roast was cooked to perfection, deliciously seasoned. They were all starving. There was corn on the cob, mashed potatoes flavored with garlic, peas, green beans, asparagus, broccoli, salad and Yorkshire pudding. Dessert was strawberry shortcake.
They talked about the shoot and argued which charities were the most deserving, especially at Christmas. She saw that Robert was sitting by Jimmy. The two seemed to have a lot to talk about. She felt both a chill and a warmth, watching him, wondering why she could possibly feel such fear, such determination to take a step back, when she saw him. Tonight he was in a plaid flannel shirt. The red pattern enhanced the darkness of his hair. He was very good-looking, and the flash of his smile seemed sincere. He was down-to-earth, despite his appearance.
He had probably saved her life tonight, she reminded herself. And yet…
After dinner, they all gathered to put up more Christmas decorations. Aggie prepared mountains of popcorn to be strung, then made hot chocolate for them all. She gave directions for stringing various garlands, for winding the lights around pillars and banisters, for placing each Christmas novelty and knickknack.
Eileen came upon a box of ornaments. “We can’t possibly use these yet.”
“We can decorate the pillars,” Jillian said, smoothing back her hair. “And we could do popcorn chains if Griff weren’t eating it all.”
“Hey! There’s a fire going, an old flick on the television, and I’m drinking hot chocolate. Of course I’m eating the popcorn. What good will a string of popcorn do? By Christmas, it will be moldy,” Griff protested.
“We’re not going to eat the strings we make now,” she told him.
He shrugged, smiling, throwing up a piece and catching it deftly in his mouth.
“You’re hopeless,” she told him.
“I can teach you how to catch every last bite,” he told her.
She shook her head, turning back to the ornament box and catching Robert’s eye. He was watching her gravely from a stance by the mantel. His eyes were far too somber. He was thinking that she was in danger again, she thought.
From her own family.
She turned quickly away, hoping he would keep his word and not say anything to Douglas.
He was quite a rider. Tomorrow, she thought, she would ask him to go for a ride with her. And when they were alone, she would point out how it had surely been an accident. No one could have planned a truck going by at such a precise time. And the fence…
Obviously an accident.
A little while later, when she was reaching up to hang an angel ornament on one of the garlands, she found that he was beside her, ready to help her. She felt dizzy. It would be great to lay her head against his chest. Breathe him in. His aftershave was great. Everything about him was great….
“You liked Crystal?” she queried, annoyed that her voice was so breathless.
“He’s a great horse. He’s Daniel’s, right?”
She shook her head, smiling. “No. Mine.”
“Oh. Sorry, I didn’t realize—”
“We’re not up here enough to lay personal claim to any of the horses anymore,” she told him. “
And you took my horse to save my life. A pretty good trade, I think. Crystal has the nicest manners. Except for Blossom, who just moves like molasses. She’s Eileen’s.”
“Eileen has a slow horse?” he asked skeptically.
“She hates to ride. But the day we went and bought the horses, she followed Eileen around like a puppy dog. She’s very sweet. We don’t ride her anymore. But she’ll still follow you around. She loves to be stroked, given a lot of attention.”
“Ah,” he murmured.
“And what does that mean?” she enquired.
“I like to be stroked, too. Given a lot of attention,” he told her, grinning.
Warmth. Enwrapping her, encapsulating her. How could she doubt him?
But she did.
“I thought you might like to go riding again tomorrow. You couldn’t have gone very far tonight. I know Daniel will be working with Eileen and Brad, but I don’t have to approve anything until they get further along. I know you want to—”
“They won’t mind one less chef tomorrow,” he said. “Riding will be great.”
“I’ll ask Jimmy to see that Crystal and Igloo are ready for us. Is eleven all right? I’m taking Grandfather to the nine o’clock church service in town.”
“Fine,” he told her.
He was close, leaning against the pillar, dark blue eyes intent on her. She smiled awkwardly. “Well, I’m going on up, then. Full day. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“You will.”
She turned around. Agatha, Amelia, her grandfather and Henry were playing a round of pitch. Jimmy and Brad were deep into a game of chess. She wasn’t sure where the others were.
“Good night, all,” she called.
“Good night,” she received in return.
“Thanks again,” she said softly to Robert.
He was still leaning against the pillar, arms crossed over his chest, dark hair falling over his forehead, gaze fathomless as he watched her. “Shucks, ma’am, it was nothing,” he told her.
She turned and started up the stairs, she felt him watching her all the while.
As she reached the second floor landing, she hesitated, wondering if she should see if Daniel was in his room and just make sure that she wouldn’t be needed during the day and that Robert would be clear to go riding. She walked down the hall to his room, thinking that since she hadn’t seen him, he was probably there.
Just as she lifted her hand to knock she heard a woman’s voice, hushed. “I can’t, I can’t. The way we’re doing it is so…so…I shouldn’t. Oh God, I’ve got to stop….”
There was a whispered return, much deeper.
The sound of tears.
Jillian realized that she was still standing there. Listening. Eavesdropping. When her cousin was obviously entertaining someone in his room.
She drew her hand back quickly and spun around, almost running down the hall to her own room. Once inside, she closed the door.
As she got ready for bed, she felt cold and shocked. Not that Daniel shouldn’t have a lover. He was handsome, virile, masculine, and certainly of age. It was just that…
Who?
Gracie? With Daniel?
Or someone else? Someone from town, a neighbor…?
She crawled into bed, and only then did she realize that she might have recognized the woman’s voice.
Connie.
No! It couldn’t have been. Joe was here. He hadn’t been sledding with them, not when she had gotten there, anyway, but he had been at dinner.
Connie was with Joe.
And yet…that voice.
CHAPTER 9
This time, when he awoke to see the figure of Milo Anderson seated in the chair by his bed, Robert didn’t even allow himself to be startled.
He groaned, throwing an arm over his face.
“Go away. You’re a dream. I’m only dreaming.”
“You’re not dreaming. And Christmas is coming.”
“Great. Christmas comes every year.”
The apparition was silent for a minute, then Milo said quietly, “No, not for everyone.”
“Sorry. Really. No, I’m not. Hell, this is ridiculous. I’m apologizing to a dream.”
“Look, you did well today, but not well enough.”
Robert drew his arm from his eyes to stare at his dream visitor with indignation. “Not well enough? I hurtled across a highway, threw myself from a racing horse and caught Jillian before the sled could go crashing into the truck.”
“I said you did well. But did you look at the license plate of the truck and get the number? Did you inspect the fence to find out what really happened to it?”
“It was an accident.”
“No, not everything is an accident.”
“You sound like Douglas.”
“Of course. Douglas is involved.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Never mind. You’re not ready to understand.”
“I understand that I’m having a nightmare. What more is there?”
“The book. I’ve told you, you’ve got to read the book. She is in danger. It will come again—unless we can change things.”
“Great. So someone—apparently in Jillian’s own family—is out to kill her. Before Christmas. And I’ve got a ghost haunting my dreams, a know-it-all ghost. So if you know it all, just whisper the name of the guilty party in my ear so when I wake up, I’ll know who it is.”
“I don’t know who it is,” Milo said, looking perplexed, shaking his head.
“You’re dead, you’re a ghost, you’re omniscient—”
“I’m dead, I’m a ghost, yes. But I’m still here because she’s in danger. I don’t have access to any more information than you do. Except that I’ve read the book. And I believe.”
“You believe in what? Miracles? I don’t mean to be cruel, but after all, this is my nightmare. You’re dead and buried. There won’t be a miracle. Unless you’re thinking of making a comeback?”
“Don’t be gruesome,” Milo said with a shudder. He leaned forward. “I’m not coming back. It wasn’t meant to be. But I was part of it, and I left too soon this time around. I guess that had to happen. But you have to wise up, Marston, or you’ll lose her again.”
“Look…”
In the darkness of his room, Robert sat up. He had spoken aloud.
There was no one there.
He groaned and crashed back to his pillow. Why in God’s name was he having such bizarre dreams? He hadn’t been drinking tonight, except for a single beer with dinner.
He rolled over, pulling his pillow over his head. He needed to get back to sleep.
He started to drift. Don’t dream, don’t dream, don’t dream, he told himself.
But he did dream again, and though he knew he didn’t want to dream, he was aware that he was doing it.
In his dream, he was rising, slipping on his robe and padding barefoot out into the hall to the second floor landing.
And he was walking…down to the library.
Inside, on the huge desk that was the centerpiece of the room, was a book. He walked over to it. Ran a finger over it. The book was very old. Hundreds of years old, he thought. He looked at the cover, looked at the spine, at the pages.
Then he sat down to read, telling himself it was a remarkably vivid dream.
January 3rd, 1661
We fled today, though we did not flee so much as a result of the war, the impending death of the King, or the new regime. We fled because of the burning. Because of the horror we inflicted after the burning.
Because we were too late, and should not have been.
He wanted death.
Michael could not endure what had happened, and not even the vengeance he extracted could allow him to stay. We headed to the North Country, and will fly far and fast. He thinks, I believe, that he can outrun the horror.
Who could have known?
I should begin from the beginning.
I will never forget the day they met, tho
ugh it was long before the tumult began. She was the daughter of Lord Alfred, the kindliest of men. Tolerant of her headstrong ways, and knowing, of course, that she adored him in return. She was a lady, to the manor born, and she used her positionoverMichael, nose in the air, words ever teasing, haughty, yet filled with a laughter that wound him quickly around her little finger, though he would not let on. I warned him when first we saw her by the spring that she was Lord Alfred’s daughter. But he paid no heed. She accosted him to do her bidding, and he complied, yet whatever she asked, he overdid, bringing water, helping her to drink so that it spilled over her, setting her upon her horse with such a flourish that she slid from one side to the ground upon the other. She but laughed, promising him that he should pay, and he told her that he would pay forever, that he was forever her servant, spellbound.
They parted ways then, of course. But I saw the way they looked at one another.
They met again the following day, in her father’s own hall. For her father would be riding off in support of the King, and Michael, the finest of soldiers, would captain the troops he had raised. Within the hall, she taunted him. He called her spoiled, willful and a silly child. She said then that he should stay away, and he told her that he could never stay away, for he was enamored. Indeed, he was certain he loved her.
There had been some talk of a marriage between her and Sir Walter, distant kin, a man well versed in the way of the soldier, the churchman and the politician, for he had, at one time, befriended the King, and at another time he had sat with Cromwell and agreed with his position that the King and the church had become corrupt. Already there was talk of treason. Alas, the King was arrogant, oh, indeed, arrogant. He was, in his mind, God’s anointed, incapable of treason. He was the state, and the state was him. Michael had ridden with his son, had served the Prince, and therein found his loyalty. The King was beloved by his family, was an educated man, with great dignity. His son was charming and more. Brave.
Sir Walter had been appointed sheriff of the county and had come at Lord Alfred’s request. Lord Alfred knew Sir Walter to be crafty and cunning, a man to straddle a fence, but he thought that best for his daughter, his heiress. Should things go badly for the King, the fact that Sir Walter straddled fences so well would be in his favor. He had a way about him. He was the law in a lawless time, was judge and jury. This could not be a bad thing in such hazardous days, Lord Alfred thought.
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