Enchantment & Bridge of Dreams (38 page)

“Maybe not.” She studied his features, stern, beautiful, awash with silver in the moonlight. “What are we doing here, Dominic? What happened to the nun and the rosary?”

“You want me to stop?”

A universe of thinking. Asking. Taking time to be honest. “No.”

“Good.” A low groan. “Very good. Because I think I might go on kissing you forever, O'Neill. And when I'm not kissing you, I plan on being busy touching you in the most amazing ways.” His hand eased over the naked skin at her back and he fitted her to his awesome arousal.

“I bet you tell all your clients that.”

“No.” Dead serious, his hands rigid. “Not one. Not ever, Cathlin. It's important you know that.”

“I do.” Her fingers traced his lips. Her sigh was loud in the silence of the night. “Meanwhile, I suppose we'd better get back inside or Nicholas Draycott will think we've fallen into the moat.”

“Maybe I feel like I have. But you're right. Any longer out here and I might do something monumentally stupid. Fantastic, but
very stupid.” Smiling softly, Dominic smoothed Cathlin's hair and straightened the neck of her dress. “Let's go.”

 

N
ICHOLAS WAS TOYING WITH
a row of jeweled Fabergé miniatures when Dominic and Cathlin came inside. His eyes narrowed as he saw the hardness at Dominic's jaw. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, Dominic, but I was afraid you wouldn't come if you knew.”

“I wouldn't have.”

The viscount's steady glance took in both of them. “What about now?”

Dominic looked at Cathlin and took a deep breath.

“Yes,” she said.

“No,” Dominic snapped.

Their eyes met, startled.

Nicholas smiled faintly, noting Cathlin's disordered hair and swollen lips, along with Dominic's rumpled lapels and the hint of lipstick at his cheek. “I'm delighted you're in agreement, just as I'm certain that Gabriel Montserrat would be, were he here.” The lights in the hall flickered for a moment. “Sorry. That happens sometimes when the wiring gets damp. Now I suggest that we move things along as fast as possible, before the value of this wine is made public. Meanwhile, my wife, Kacey, will continue to go through the county archives along with church records of marriages and deaths.” He refilled their glasses with a flourish and turned, smiling broadly. “And now, to a toast to your upcoming wedding.”

Dominic's eyes darkened.

“I have checked with the vicar and he is free to marry you tomorrow. Whatever happens after that will be…” He cleared his throat. “That is, I leave the practical details of your marriage up to you.”

Wind gusted through the study and the abbey's lights flickered. A moment later the room was plunged into darkness.

D
OMINIC CURSED
.

Long and fluently. In English, then in back-alley Thai, then in very eloquent French. He couldn't see a thing.

Cathlin's fingers slid to his arm. “Is this another idea of Marston's? I hope he's not going to wheel in crêpes flambées.”

“I doubt that Marston had anything to do with this.” As he spoke, Dominic inched toward the wall. “Nicholas?”

“Right here. What's going on?”

“I don't know yet, but I soon will.”

“Good. In the meanwhile, I'm going up to check on Kacey and Genevieve.”

Cathlin reached out blindly. “Dominic, wait. I'm coming with you.” Silence. “Dominic?”

But Dominic Montserrat had already disappeared into the darkness.

 

D
OMINIC INCHED DOWN THE
rear stairs, his mind racing. Swift and methodical, he ran through all the permutations of exits, entrances, and electrical sources. He was at the last step, easing alongside the first row of shelves, when he heard a low whisper at his ear.

“Dominic?”

“Cathlin? Why in God's name—”

Her voice was a wisp of sound. “Because something's wrong
and you're going to need my help. I know this place better than you ever will.”

“After only one afternoon?”

“One long and very thorough afternoon spent in the cellar. And I remember every detail, believe me. Right now we're standing beside a row of claret bottles. That means there's a power source just a little over four feet to the left on the south wall.”

A creaking sound came somewhere to their right. Instantly Dominic's fingers tightened on Cathlin's shoulder, motioning her to silence.

He bent close, lips to her ear. “Stay here.”

“But you can't just—”

“Stay.”

She didn't hear him slip away. As always, he moved in utter silence. All Cathlin felt was a whisper of wind against her skin.

Her heart pounded as she crouched in the darkness of the ancient cellars, thinking about death and betrayal, about nightmares that wouldn't stay buried.

Thinking about ghosts past and present and a sad and lonely man named Gabriel.

Her senses were screaming and her nerves stretched to the breaking point when she finally heard the hiss of a match being struck. Through the neatly stacked rows of bottles Cathlin made out a shadowed figure bent over one of the wine racks. She was inching closer when she heard bone strike flesh. The wine racks shivered with the impact of a blow. But there were no words, no voices at all. Only later would Cathlin realize the significance of that silence, the mark of two professionals who gave nothing away even in the direst circumstances.

Cathlin didn't stop to think about what she was doing next. She reached deep, calling up her memory of the cellars. Before her were three rows of claret and a row of Madeira.

The muffled thud of bodies grew louder as Cathlin worked
through the darkness. She felt a ridge of wood at her feet, a small wooden step stool pushed out of reach.

Her hands closed around the rough wooden legs. It would be heavy enough to deal a stunning blow, if only she could figure out where Dominic was.

She took a breath and then repeated one of Dominic's French curses, one of the few she had understood. She heard a quick gasp. Close by, a harsh voice, raw with pain, grated out an answering curse.

Dominic was slightly to her right, next to a rack full of priceless claret. Cathlin waited, praying, then she hurled the footstool with all her strength.

After a satisfying crack, Cathlin heard a sharp curse, followed by footsteps. Glass shattered and a shoulder rammed into her chest. She gasped as a hard body shoved her to the ground and charged off into the darkness.

“Cathlin, are you there? Talk to me, damn it!”

“I—I'm fine, Dominic.” Cathlin clenched her teeth against the pain in her side. “I think he's gone.”

Nearby a match flared. Cathlin frowned as she saw Dominic propped up against one of the wine racks. His jacket was gone and his cuff was splashed with blood.

“You idiot,” Cathlin sputtered. “You complete and utter idiot.”

“Don't get upset, Irish. Some of this blood is
his.
” Dominic's fingers tightened. “Though maybe not so much as I'd like. I see you inflicted a little damage yourself.” He frowned down at the glass splinters spread over the floor.

“Who was he?”

“I don't know, but he was good.
Too
bloody good for any amateur thief.” Grimacing, he headed for the stairs.

“What are you doing?”

“Going after him. It's my job, remember?”

 

N
ICHOLAS WAS PACING THE
drawing room, looking grim, when Dominic returned. “Did you find anything?”

“Footprints leading to tire tracks. Not much help, I'm afraid. At least you managed to get the electricity working again.”

Nicholas rubbed his neck. “Someone had thrown the circuit breaker. Obviously, the news is out, and we're going to have to take some precautions. What do you suggest?”

“You need a new alarm system up and running by tomorrow. I know a man in London who can handle it. We'll also have to establish some other procedures. I want to know where everyone is at all times.” He looked at Cathlin, who was sitting pale but composed next to Marston. “That means at
all
times, understood? I'll arrange to have radio transmitters for each of us.” He turned to Marston. “Nothing goes in or out without my seeing it first. Not books, not groceries, not a single matchstick.”

“Understood, Lord Ashton.”

“I have a question,” Cathlin said tightly. “When are you going to do something about that blood on your cuff?”

“Later.” Dominic's voice was hard. “Any more questions? No? Then go up and rest. Nicholas and I will take watch down here until I can get someone to help in the morning.”

 

“Y
OU'RE BLEEDING AGAIN
.”

Cathlin frowned as she followed Dominic out into the hallway.

No answer.

“Dominic, you can't just go around
bleeding
on everything.”

Still no answer.

Cathlin grabbed his uninjured arm and pulled him to a halt. There were lines of tension at his mouth and forehead, lines he couldn't hope to conceal. Her eyes widened with disbelief as she ran her fingers over the front of his jacket.

It was wet with blood. “So when were you planning to do something about this?”

Dominic shrugged. “You'll be the first to know.”

“It's all a game to you, isn't it? All about seeing who's faster or smarter or braver. Well, I'm not playing. Not now. Not ever.” Her eyes were dark and haunted. “I've already lost one man I loved that way, you see.”

 

R
ESTLESS AND UNABLE TO
sleep, Dominic stood on the middle of the stone bridge, rubbing his neck. All the entries and exits were in good shape. Only two windows needed new locks and rewiring for the upgraded laser security system.

Now he had to try the places that weren't so obvious. He looked out over the darkened hills, trying to think with the mind of a man who would do anything to possess the wine in the abbey cellars.

A thief would automatically assume electronic protection was in place and look for a way to cut it. Next he'd go for backup generators—which Draycott didn't have. After that, he'd go for the bodyguard.

Dominic's eyes hardened. Being a target didn't frighten him. He'd done it too often before to be afraid of a bullet he couldn't prepare for. But the thought that he might fail and allow Cathlin to be hurt scared the living hell out of him.

Abruptly he turned. “Nicholas?” he called, scanning the darkness behind him.

No answer. Nothing moved amid the shadows.

Dominic inched toward the gatehouse. But the doorway, too, was empty.

“Of course no one's out there, Montserrat. You're losing your mind, that's your only problem. And all because of a woman as changeable as quicksilver, a woman who's smart and irritating and has suffered too much pain in her life already.”

Muttering, he made his way over the bridge. Everything was peaceful. Not a shadow moved on those manicured green slopes. So why didn't he feel safe?

High overhead Vega flashed sharply against the deep velvet of the sky. To the north the Big Dipper dangled in a perfect silver chain, pointing to some long-forgotten mystery that only primitive man had understood. Dominic thought about newer mysteries, about white dwarfs and red giants and black holes so dense not a single speck of matter could ever escape their vast intractable pull.

Right now he felt drawn that way to the woman upstairs.

Around him the soft night sounds of wind and water drifted and ebbed. Dominic took a slow breath and told himself to relax.

Cathlin had gone up to bed hours ago. From the bridge he had watched her shadow move back and forth against the curtains. Her slim body had been silhouetted against white lace, a tantalizing sweep of curves and hollows, before the light had gone out.

He tried not to think about her undressing, then sliding down against the quilt, her hair loose and glossy around her face.

Roses tossed beside the moat, filling the air with perfume. The moon burned, unblinking over the wooded hills.

Only night. Only silence. Only the darting silver images of moon and stars, reflected in the ever-changing currents of the moat.

Suddenly something made the back of Dominic's neck tighten. “Marston?”

But it wasn't Draycott's eccentric butler who stood in the stone courtyard before the abbey's huge front gate. It was Cathlin O'Neill, wearing some damned jersey that barely covered her thighs. It wasn't feminine. It wasn't fetching or flirty or seductively silken.

But it might as well have been, because Dominic took one look and felt something burst into hot, furious life inside him. He envisioned her in white lace and peach satin. In a long gown that swept the floor and a navy velvet cloak with a soft hood.

Just like the sad-eyed woman in his dreams.

And then he imagined her in absolutely nothing at all.

“Sweet God above, Montserrat, get up off all fours and start trying to be reasonably human, will you?” Frowning, he pushed away from the stone railing.

And then he froze. Cathlin was moving toward him. He whispered her name, but she didn't answer. She moved haltingly over the arch of the bridge, then cocked her head, listening to the silence.

Dominic felt a chill at his heart as she sank to her knees at the top of the bridge and inched protectively against one of the stone columns. And there she sat, huddled in the shadows, her eyes huge, her hands twisting.

It took several moments to realize exactly what those white fingers were doing. They were scraping desperately, trying to wash off a stain that only she could see.

Dominic knelt slowly beside her. When she didn't look up, he touched her shoulder softly, waiting for some hint of recognition.

“Is it time?” she asked, in a voice that was hers but softer. Younger. “Can I go yet? I want to go.”

Dominic felt something cold and sharp go in just beneath his ribs and twist hard. She was caught in the past, caught in the nightmares of her mother's death. Had she held a killer's identity trapped in her mind all these years? “You can go, Cathlin. Anytime you want. It's all over now, I promise.”

Her hands twisted sharply. “You said that before. You told me I could go, and then you locked me in.”

Dominic tasted a rage that threatened to overwhelm him. What kind of sick mind would torment an innocent child?

Somehow he bit back his fury. “Not now. There's nothing to hold you now, Cathlin. Look around you. All you have to do is walk over that bridge and you'll be free.”

“But I can't. If I do, they'll know. And then—oh God, then—” Her hands slid to her mouth as she tried to hold in a muffled sob.

Had they threatened her? Had she been afraid to make a noise? “I'll take you wherever you want. I'll take you home,
Cathlin. I'll take you back to yesterday or on to tomorrow. No one will ever stop you again, I swear it.”

After an agonizing silence, she pushed to her feet. When she walked back across the bridge, there was no recognition at all in her face.

Dominic's throat tightened as he watched her climb the stairs and make her way back to bed. There she curled into a ball and pulled the covers protectively around her.

As if they could hold out a lifetime of shadows.