Ian gave a curt nod. “So was I.”
With the satchel beneath his arm, he walked back into the streaming pre-Christmas traffic. The smell of the sea was heavy here. Strange, he had never noticed before.
When he turned and walked south, he did not look back.
Ravenwood House
Southern England
The house was golden, lit by the last rays of the dying sun. Its peace and age blended with the rolling hills that overlooked the English coast.
Ian turned into the ornate gates of the estate owned by Calan MacKay, feeling muscles tighten at his shoulders. As he walked into the front hall, his friend appeared with the silence that so many people found unnerving.
“Is it done?”
Ian nodded. “Hard to believe. Ten years gone in a matter of minutes. I didn’t have anyone whom I would miss.” He shrugged. “If you offer me some of that fine aged whisky, I won’t turn it down. Not tonight.”
Calan nodded. “The fire is lit in the study. You won’t be disturbed. I’ve left the bottle there for you already.” Calan started to say something else, then took a slow breath. “I think I’ll go take Churchill for a run. We might be gone for quite some time,” he murmured.
Ian barely heard.
He opened the doors to the small room with its walls of inlaid mahogany paneling. Firelight danced over the rich red rugs. Ian barely noticed. He glanced through the empty room and then sank down in the deep armchair near the fire. With a sigh he closed his eyes.
He barely heard the movement. The fingers moved slowly, smoothing the knots at his shoulders. Smooth lips brushed his brow.
Ian felt the last of his tension fade as he gripped her hands and tugged her down into his lap. “I was starting to worry.”
“It’s all done, is it?” Clair Haywood touched his cheek, looking anxious.
“Completely done. I resigned as of three o’clock this afternoon. Your death at Draycott Abbey was the final straw.” He made a low sound as her fingers massaged his neck. “They asked me what I mean to do now. Private security work, I suppose. There’s lots to be had now.”
“But that’s not what you’ll be doing,” Clair said quietly.
“No, it is not. I’ll be working with Nicholas and Izzy, tracking down the rest of these men. Izzy has already found enough to suggest there is a very important man in place, too deeply hidden to be safe. And so, our work is just beginning.” He kissed her hand and then gently opened the sash of her robe. “But not tonight.”
Clair shrugged free of one sleeve and bit his lips gently. She sighed when his callused hand cupped her shoulder and slid to her breast. “Last night, Ian, you didn’t—“
“No, I didn’t. Your shoulder still needs to mend.”
She pressed closer, her face determined. “I’m fine. And I want you to treat me as if I were. I want—everything you have to give me. It is long past time, my love.”
Ian took a raw breath. Yet again she tore through all his defenses. “Clair, you can’t. Not yet.”
Smiling with a look of infinite joy, she turned carefully and straddled him in the chair. “Is that so?” The robe spilled from her sleek body and she reached down to undo his belt. “Idiot. You probably think you need to protect me, even now.”
All the words flew out of Ian’s head when her fingers slid lower, burrowing down to curve over hard, aroused skin. “But who, I wonder, will protect you from me?”
“No one. So I sincerely hope, my love.” Ian whispered her name as he kissed a hungry path along her shoulder. Their two bodies met, restless and hungry, matched in ardor and in trust.
Fabric rustled.
Skin met aching skin, golden in the firelight.
Around them the air seemed to still.
A single snowflake drifted down over the quiet house. Neither of them noticed the sound of soft laughter.
And then the faint, lingering perfume of roses….
Welcome back to Draycott Abbey.
Do you love magic that gathers within weathered stone walls? Are you fascinated by old houses, where the weight of history presses down like a physical touch? If so, you'll feel completely at home at this lovely, rose-covered estate in rural England.
I'm frequently asked if my books have to be read in order.
Definitely not! Each book is written to stand alone. All of the stories are self-contained. But since many readers prefer a series in its order of writing, this link will take you to the current Draycott Abbey collection.
DRAYCOTT ETERNAL
DRAYCOTT LEGACY
HOUR OF THE ROSE
BRIDGE OF DREAMS
BRIDE OF THE MIST
KEY TO FOREVER
SEASON OF WISHES
CHRISTMAS KNIGHT
THE PERFECT GIFT
TO CATCH A THIEF
BOUND BY DREAMS
DRAYCOTT EVERLASTING
Christmas at Draycott Abbey, a novella
The series began with a story of the brooding ghost of an earlier ancestor, Adrian Draycott. After that came nine Draycott Abbey books, which may not all be in print at the time you read this.
Stay tuned. Izzy is working on that!
And if you are intrigued by Calan MacKay, the secretive Scotsman, you may enjoy Bound by Dreams, the story of Calan’s rare skills – and his rediscovery of a love lost within the abbey walls.
Meanwhile, enjoy the scent of Adrian’s heirloom roses.
They bloom even in winter, thanks to a particular bit of magic worked by moonlight. No, Adrian didn’t sell his soul to the devil.
But it was a close thing. Far too close. And Adrian’s testing has only begun as the danger grows, carried into the turbulent present.
Watch for more brand new novellas coming in 2012!
For a taste of Draycott Abbey, try Marston's Chocolate Pots de Crème. You'll find the recipe, and two variations, at DraycottAbbey.com/recipe. These small and entirely delicious little desserts are a staple at the Abbey over Christmas. Marston always uses the exclusive Earl Grey tea made for the Draycott family to infuse this decadent dish, but any good quality Earl Grey tea will work. Happy cooking (and eating!)
I'll be waiting for you at the abbey……
(with some help from the unflappable Marston)
Christmas at Draycott Abbey Page 6
