by Brenda Joyce
“You’re welcome,” Sarah said cheerfully. “See you at Elgin Hall.”
Rachel could not reach Eddy—he had not, as it turned out, arrived back at the air station yet. He had been due back hours ago.
Rachel was afraid. She left another message.
The first thing Eddy had done that afternoon was take a train north to Berwick-upon-Tweed, hoping bombing would not delay him, as the Luftwaffe often targeted the railways. It did not. He arrived in the city late in the afternoon, and promptly stole a motorcycle. It was raining, the skies gray and heavy—soon it would be dark. The ride up the rugged Scottish coast took another hour and a half, and the rain became frigid. By the time he arrived in the village closest to Tantallon Castle, he was thoroughly soaked and frozen to the bone, and darkness had cloaked the land. He did not worry about catching pneumonia. He was newlywed—he had no intention of dying anytime soon.
He had an entire night to kill, but he didn’t dare take a room in the village’s single inn or even linger in the town’s pub. He was an American and would stand out like a sore thumb. And then there was his quarry. Eddy had no intention of turning a corner and coming face-to-face with his adversary.
Instead, he rode through the town at a sedate pace, the only motorized vehicle on the blackened road. It was very hard to see where he was going—this far north, the Scots hadn’t bothered to paint any white stripes on the road or put up any lampposts. Road signs were also missing, but he had expected that and had memorized his way very carefully. He continued up the winding road slowly. On his right was the sea. Rock cliffs fell hundreds of feet to meet the surf below. The wet moors rolled away on his left. He saw the small signal light that was just off the coast, the “Haven of Thomptalloun,” blinking in the night. It should have been blacked out. He knew then that Tantallon Castle lay ahead.
Eddy was not coming in blind; he had done a bit of research. Lionel had clearly activated the signal light, for no U-boat could get close to shore because of the rocks. Eddy was expecting some kind of rendezvous, and any sub doing so would have to launch a dinghy.
There were other alternatives, of course. One was that the scrawled message—“Tantallon Dec 24 0700”—was in code and did not mean what it implied. The other was that Lionel Elgin had decided to call it quits, and that a U-boat was coming to pick him up and whisk him away to the safety of European shores.
Eddy did not think so. Elgin was in too deep; there was no reason for him to run for it now.
Amazing, how his father’s body had so suddenly and conveniently disappeared.
Eddy slowed his motorcycle fractionally as the soaring stone towers and walls of the old Scottish castle came into view; looming and forbidding black shadows. He did not pause. He saw no cars parked anywhere; no sign, in fact, of any other visitor. But then, it was dark out and hard to see, and he might be wrong. He continued on.
His motorcycle was very loud. Except for the crashing of the surf on the rocky beach below, it was the only sound for miles in the silence of the night.
A few miles up the road, he drove off on a cow path and hid his bike behind some trees, removing his pack. In it were binoculars, a loaded gun, a camera, a multipurpose penknife, a penlight, a flashlight, another knife—this one lethal—a nylon rope, some rations, and a pair of dry socks.
Eddy walked slowly along the road, on the alert for company. By the time he crossed over and began his approach to the castle, he felt quite certain he was alone. He was approaching from the northwest. Ahead, the castle sat on an outcropping of cliff. Below, there was a small strip of pale beach. He could also see the winking signal light in the sea, within swimming distance. Eddy paused to scan the beach below, the tower ahead, and the central section of ruins with his binoculars. He could make out nothing more than a juxtaposition of dark shapes. He continued on.
The moat, now dry, caused him to veer to the east and wander parallel to it. He did so with great caution—there was only one bridge, and he and Elgin would both have to use it. At the bridge, made of wood and constructed by local officials for pre-war tourists, he squatted and lifted his binoculars again. Somewhere to the east was an incomplete sea gate. He wondered if the U-boat would attempt to launch a dinghy in that direction instead of the western beach that he had previously passed.
He saw nothing. Not even the briefest flash of movement. Eddy thought that Elgin would arrive sometime before dawn, so as not to spend any more time than necessary in the inclement weather. Eddy slipped the binoculars back into his rain jacket and hurried across the bridge. He ran across the open space of what had once been an outer ward, and by the next bridge, he crouched again, waiting to see if he had alerted anyone to his presence.
The minutes ticked by. The air was very wet—or had it begun to drizzle? Eddy scanned the outer walls and the towers of the castle, which were only yards away now. He saw nothing.
There was just one way to get inside the ancient fortress. The entry was an arched entrance that formed a short tunnel. It was the perfect trap.
He had no choice.
Eddy slipped his revolver into his hand. He leaped up and ran across the few feet of the bridge, then darted across another short open space and into the vaulted entrance. His footsteps echoed loudly. A stone, displaced by his feet, skittered across the stone and earth floor, finally crashing down an incline somewhere.
Once inside, he veered left, disappearing between crumbling walls and nooks and crannies. He took a moment to catch his breath and listen for Elgin, his back to the wall. He took out his penlight but did not turn it on, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.
The surf roared. Its sound was intensified by the stone walls.
There was no question about it—he was alone. Eddy turned on his penlight but kept it trained upon the rough stones at his feet. He crept through one hall and then another, until he came to what he felt certain was the unfinished sea gate. Here the rock floor fell abruptly into the sea; hundreds of years ago, it would have been an ideal place for a ship to berth and unload its cargo and passengers. Eddy studied every detail of the tower, then turned and retraced his steps, finally ending up back in the central section of the ruins. He had to proceed with caution, as the center did not exist—it plummeted down hundreds of feet where once there had been floors. He finally entered the tower where a guidebook had said the Douglas family had lived. At its northern edge, he looked out of a portal and saw the beach just below, to the north. The signal light was blinking directly to his west.
It would be the beach, Eddy decided with satisfaction. No U-boat captain would have the nerve to try to come alongside the incomplete sea gate. The rocks were too jagged, and discharging a passenger—or picking one up—too dangerous.
Eddy shone his light up the walls of the tower where he stood. He finally saw the perfect spot: a small room on the floor above. He looked around and realized that the spiral stairs had been destroyed. He would have to climb, which was even better. Because if his enemy ever discovered him, he would have to climb up as well.
Eddy secured his pack. He put his rope around his waist and tied it to a solid stone arch. He put his penlight between his teeth and began to climb.
Half an hour later, drenched with sweat, he swung up into the room above, where he lay on the broken stones of the floor, panting and out of breath. Then he sat up and quickly inspected his pack. He would assemble his equipment after he ate; he settled down for the night.
“I’m so glad you came, Rachel,” Ellen said, reaching for her impulsively with both hands.
Rachel smiled at her. “I’m so sorry about your husband,” she said.
Ellen blinked at her. She was pale, although not teary-eyed or red-nosed; it did not look as if she had been weeping. “I am simply stunned,” she admitted, leading Rachel through the foyer and into a large, opulent salon. “Who would do such a thing?”
The question did not require an answer, and for an instant, Rachel forgot about the murdered lord. She was in a huge roo
m with two crystal chandeliers and marble floors; the furnishings were fabulous, the furniture gilded. There were works of art on the walls; there were huge mirrors, beautiful tables, and candelabra. She had seen rooms like this only in museums and rendered in art. She could not believe that, particularly in a time of war, anyone lived in such luxury.
“Are you hungry?” Ellen asked. One of the room’s many tables contained beautiful tea sandwiches and a pot of tea. “Or would you like a glass of wine?” She seemed a bit hopeful that Rachel would agree to her last suggestion.
But Rachel was exhausted. She glanced around, afraid that Lionel would walk through that door at any moment.
Perhaps he was on his way to Tantallon right now.
“I could use a sandwich,” she said. “I suppose Sarah has not yet arrived?”
“Sarah is coming as well?” Ellen seemed relieved. “This is wonderful. It’s horrible being here alone. Especially on such a night.”
Rachel wondered if Ellen had volunteered for the war effort. She did not dare ask. She sat down, accepting a small plate of assorted sandwiches and a cup of tea. The rain began again, tapping on the windowpanes. Ellen poured herself a glass of white wine from the dry bar, a cart on gilded wheels, stationed not far from where they sat.
Ellen took a seat on the red velvet settee beside the chair where Rachel perched. “So you must tell me what it is like to be a WAAF,” she said, smiling. “It must be very exciting indeed.” And then she saw the ring.
The sun was on the horizon, a bare intrusion of shimmering light in a rainy gray day. Below, Lionel Elgin stood on the strip of beach, his hands in the pockets of his wool peacoat, his head ducked slightly against the rain.
Eddy studied him through the binoculars, filled with excitement. Elgin wore the clothes of a civilian, including a wool cap.
He trained his binoculars on the sea, and his pulse increased. A submarine was breaking through the surface of the water. It was a German U-boat. It didn’t have to fly a flag—which it was not—for him to recognize it. He had been right.
Eddy picked up his camera.
A dinghy was launched. Four sailors began rowing it to the shore where Lionel waited. There was a fifth man sitting in their midst. Eddy focused, and as he began taking photographs, another man bundled up in a black wool coat and cap appeared on the beach, beside Elgin.
They arrived within half an hour of each other. It was late afternoon of Christmas Eve.
Sarah had left to rejoin her ATF unit earlier in the day, and Rachel sat with Lady Ellen in the salon, John upstairs napping. As it turned out, they had exhausted idle conversation; Ellen was knitting and Rachel trying to read without much success. The only sound was the wind rattling the windows and the ticking of a huge bronze grandfather clock.
She had attempted to reach Eddy five times that day—he still had failed to report to his command. If he did not do so soon, he would be AWOL. Rachel knew where he was; he was in Scotland, chasing Lionel Elgin.
The front door in the huge marble foyer opened and closed. Lady Ellen jumped to her feet, clutching her knitting and needles. Rachel looked from her tense, pale face to the threshold of the salon, and the thought struck her quickly and hard: She is afraid of Lionel.
Her cousin appeared in the doorway, clad in his uniform, smiling at them both.
“Hello, Lionel,” Ellen said stiffly.
Lionel was looking at Rachel now, and slowly, she got to her feet. Every single hair on her body seemed to be standing on end, and she wanted to scream at him, Where is Eddy? She did not say a word.
Instead, she watched Lionel cross the room and pause to kiss Ellen’s cheek. Ellen actually backed away from him, and his lips brushed only the air. “How are you?” he asked.
“Fine.” Ellen’s smile was brittle.
Lionel clearly knew her feelings, and as clearly didn’t care. He turned to Rachel. She realized she had been holding her breath. “Hello, Rachel. You look lovely. Miserable day, isn’t it?” He shivered as if for effect.
She realized she despised him. “Yes, it is. And now that you are here, I must return to Fighter Command.”
He kissed her cheek before she could imitate Ellen and move away. “But you have a leave. They aren’t expecting you back until tomorrow. It’s Christmas Eve.” He smiled. His gray eyes remained amused.
Rachel felt as if she were a trapped mouse being toyed with, while he was the hungry but lazy cat. “I don’t celebrate Christmas,” she said too harshly. “Or have you forgotten?”
“Of course I haven’t forgotten. But your husband has,” he said.
Rachel started. “How—”
“I rang up Ellen earlier and she told me the wonderful news. Congratulations to you both. I left a message for Eddy, inviting him to join us for a Christmas Eve supper tonight.” The words were hardly out when the doorbell rang.
Rachel’s gaze shot past Lionel into the foyer. The Elgins had kept two servants, a housemaid and the cook. Now the maid opened the door.
Relief made her sag. Eddy stepped into the foyer, wearing his bomber jacket. Instantly their gazes met and held.
He was all right.
“Speak of the devil,” Lionel murmured. He smiled widely at Eddy. “Did you get my message?”
“Yes.” Eddy wasn’t smiling. He walked right up to Rachel, who met him halfway, walking into his arms.
She did not speak her thoughts—Are you all right? But his eyes understood and gave her the answer she wanted—Yes. He smiled and gave her a tiny, nearly imperceptible thumbs-up.
Whatever had happened, it had been successful, and Eddy was pleased. Rachel wanted to weep with relief; instead, she leaned forward on tiptoe, and he kissed her.
“Newlyweds,” Lionel murmured from somewhere behind them. While his tone was not disparaging, Rachel sensed the mockery.
“I think it is wonderful to be so in love,” Ellen said tersely. Then, from upstairs, the baby began to cry. “Excuse me,” Ellen said, hurrying from the room.
Rachel pulled away from Eddy and looked at him with all the worry she felt. She wanted to tell him that something was terribly wrong with Ellen as far as Lionel went. They needed to be alone. She had to find out where he had been during the past twenty-four hours.
“So,” Lionel said casually, as Eddy and Rachel returned to the salon and he poured them all drinks, “have you heard? They found my poor father. Murdered and cut in two. Imagine that?”
Eddy did not bat an eye as Lionel handed him a Scotch. “No, I didn’t hear. I am sorry,” he said.
Rachel looked from one to the other, chilled. Lionel was smiling, Eddy was not.
The moment they were alone in the guest room, she turned to Eddy, who instantly gripped her arms. “How could you come up here by yourself?” he cried. “Rachel, I could strangle you!”
They had just finished an endless Christmas Eve supper, and everyone had retired for the night. “Well, where have you been?” she shot back. “I think I know!”
“I went up to Tantallon Castle,” Eddy said grimly, not releasing her. “He’s our man, Rachel, and I have the evidence that will convict him for high treason.” He released her, sighing. “I’m tired,” he said abruptly.
She melted; she touched his stubbled cheek. “What kind of evidence?”
“Photographs. Rachel, this is not a good idea. Jesus! I almost had a heart attack when I got your message that you’d gone to Elgin Hall. Didn’t it ever occur to you that this is a trap?”
She stared. “Yes, I guess it did. But I felt sorry for Lady Ellen.”
“You felt sorry for her?” He was incredulous. “I smell a rat,” he said. “He’s used you to lure me here, by damn.”
Rachel stared in growing horror.
He softened. “He won’t trap me. Don’t worry—I can take care of myself.”
She folded her arms. “Like the time you ditched out over the channel?”
His eyes widened. “How in hell did you hear about that?”
�
��You never told me!” she accused. That had been months ago, and he was very lucky to be alive—a dinghy with rescue workers had fished him out of the freezing water almost instantly, before he got hypothermia and died.
“I didn’t want to worry you,” he said.
“You can’t keep secrets from me anymore,” she begged. “I’m your wife. Whatever you are involved in, we are in it together.”
He was silent for one moment. “Rachel, as your husband, it’s my duty to protect you.”
Rachel saw an argument in the making, and that was the last thing she wanted. She put her arms around him and laid her cheek on his strong chest. “Let’s not fight. Let’s get out of here.”
He stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. But he did not answer her.
Fear stabbed through her. “Eddy?” She looked up at him and saw the determined look in his eyes. “We can’t stay now! Not if this is a trap!”
“We’ll leave in the morning. I don’t want to spook Elgin. He has no idea I’ve got the goods on him, Rach. We’ll go to bed and first thing tomorrow, I’ll drop you at Bentley Priory and take care of business. If we bail out now, he might go underground, or he might even flee the country.”
Her heart was booming now. “I don’t like this,” she said.
He hesitated. “Neither do I. But it’s too goddamn late to back out now.”
CHAPTER 21
Their bodies had become one.
They moved in perfect unison. It was so new, so wondrous, so exhilarating, yet it was as if they had done this many, many times before. Rachel held his shoulders as Eddy moved over her, inside her, his strokes long, slow, exquisite, the tension escalating between them, the pressure building within her. And just when she could not stand it anymore, just when the power of love and desire became unbearable, his rhythm changed, becoming faster, harder, more urgent. Rachel felt the cries being ripped from the very core of her being. She wanted to be silent—the master suite was at the end of the hall, and God knew where Lionel slept—but her will failed her. Eddy’s name filled the room; it filled the night as he filled her.
