by Willa Blair
She didn’t bother putting the car in the carriage house. The wind had picked up, but the dry cold air did not presage snow. Besides, she wasn’t sure she could face the dark confines of that building. It took all her nerve to put on a cheerful demeanor as she and the twins walked toward the shadowed front entrance.
Even Alex fell quiet as they approached it.
“Spooky, huh?” she teased, hoping for a laugh.
Both kids just nodded. In unison.
Like that wasn’t spooky enough.
“Okay,” she called, unlocking the door, “we’re home. Let’s do this!” She stepped in and flipped on the foyer lights. Everything looked perfectly normal. No large deerhound’s ghost barred their way.
“Remember what I said,” she told the kids as she went forward, flipping on the hall light, the light above the stairs, and every other light switch she could easily reach. “Clean up first, then bed.” When they didn’t answer, she glanced around.
Alex had closed the front door and stood with his back to it, Amy at his side. Was it her imagination, or did they look…not scared…surprised? Nervous?
“Come on,” she urged and pointed to the stairs. “Go.”
“Um, maybe you should come with us,” Amy suggested.
Lara paused and studied the pair. Really, Halloween or no, this had to stop. “Let’s take your candy to the kitchen and make some cocoa first, how about that?”
They nodded and followed her silently. Weird.
Once in the kitchen, bright overhead and under-counter lights blazing, they seemed to relax. She poured their candy out on the table, warning them, “No more than three pieces each for now. Divide it up however you like.”
She went about making the hot cocoa, thinking about how Angus used to enjoy teasing the twins as they negotiated—okay, fought—for their favorite candy. In the end, all three of them would wind up with a pile in front of them and be in a sugar coma within thirty minutes. She was counting on that happening tonight.
She’d like them to be upstairs and settled before Ian arrived, not begging to go with him into the old wing to look for Fergus’s ghost.
Although…the way they’d acted when they arrived home made her wonder if they’d seen him already. And if they had, why hadn’t she? Would Fergus ever show himself to anyone past puberty?
By the time she set a steaming mug beside each child, they had created two fairly sizable piles in front of them, and a smaller one off to the side.
“Those are for you,” Alex explained.
Lara swallowed the lump in her throat and ruffled their hair. “Thank you, kids.” Despite what they said, she knew the twins had created that pile to remember a happy time with their father.
She sat with them and sipped her cocoa, enjoying its sweet warmth after the chill of the village square. The twins kept trading looks and watching her out of the corner of their eyes. Finally, she’d had enough.
“He’s here, isn’t he?”
“Who?” Amy asked, all innocence.
“There’s no one here,” Alex added right after.
“Fergus. Something is spooking you two. I’m going to assume a ghostly deerhound is sitting where you can see him. Do you think he’d like some cocoa, too?” Lara wanted to congratulate herself for keeping her cool, but then both sets of the twins’ eyes swiveled toward the same spot at the entrance to the hallway leading to the old wing. A chill ran down Lara’s spine.
“Chocolate is bad for dogs,” Alex reminded her.
“Besides, I don’t think ghosts drink cocoa,” Amy whispered.
Neither twin reacted when she named and described the ghost. Seriously? So they knew about Fergus already? They’d be impossible if they knew about the skeleton in the floor.
Lara finished her cocoa. “Okay, I get it,” she said and chuckled. “You two are playing with me. If you’re done with your drinks, it’s time to get cleaned up.”
She took the kids upstairs, all the while wondering if she would feel a cold breeze across the back of her neck, or wiry hair brushing the back of her hand. Ridiculous.
Amy took her shower after Alex, while Lara tucked Alex in. He always wanted to go first, complaining his sister took forever. Out of curiosity, Lara had once timed their showers for a week. They’d used exactly the same amount of time…and water.
Over the sound of the shower spray next door, Lara thought she heard the front door. Ian had made good time.
She went to the top of the stairs and called down, “Make yourself at home. I’ll be down in a few minutes.” She headed back toward the twins’ bedrooms and didn’t hear an answer. But she didn’t think much of it, since Amy chose that moment to exit the bathroom in a cloud of steam and a terrycloth robe.
“It’s too steamy in there to blow my hair dry,” she complained. “It’ll take forever.”
“Use the dryer in my bathroom,” Lara told her. “Then go to bed. Lights out.”
In moments, the whine of her blow dryer filled the upstairs hallway. Lara headed down the stairs, eager to escape the noise. And to find Ian’s arms. She hated to admit it, but the twins’ playacting, and please God, let them have been playacting, had spooked her. She needed a hug. Ian’s hug. His kiss. She no longer wore her ring. Maybe it was time she admitted to herself she was ready for a whole lot more, like what the heat in his gaze had promised earlier tonight. She’d been kidding herself about off limits. If Ian was here with her tonight, they were definitely on.
Where was he? She expected him to be in the library, but the room was dark and cold, no fire laid. The kitchen, still brightly lit and redolent with the rich scent of cocoa, was empty, too. Three piles of candy lay where the twins left them.
She went down the hall to the entrance to the old wing’s ground floor. It was dark in there, too. “Ian?”
When he didn’t answer, she shrugged and headed back to the library. She must’ve imagined hearing the door. She laid the fire and lit it. In moments, flickering flames bounced light and shadows on the walls and bookshelves around her and her nose picked up the scent of peat.
Someone knocked on the front door. Finally. Lara replaced the fireplace screen, hurried to the door and opened it.
Ian stood there.
Lara instantly got lost in the smile on his lips and in relief. He was here. She would not have to get through the rest of this night alone.
With snow drifting down behind him, Ian gave her a moment, then murmured, “Are you going to ask me in?”
“Oh, of course. It’s just…I thought…”
“Mo-o-om,” Amy called, her voice echoing down the stairs. “I’m done.”
“Good night, Amy,” she answered without taking her gaze from Ian’s, motioned him inside, and closed the door behind him.
Ian glanced up the stairs. “The coast is clear,” he said softly, “and there’s somethin’ I’ve been dying to do since I saw you at the fair.” He took her hand, one eyebrow cocked as if waiting for her permission.
He was going to kiss her. His words and his touch sent tingles sizzling up her arm and across her chest. She softened her stance and leaned toward him. “Oh?”
In answer, he pulled her against his hard length and wrapped his other arm around her, then kissed her, his lips stroking over hers like velvet, her awareness spiraling down until nothing existed but Ian’s mouth, the hint of apples on his breath and the rumble of a heated moan in his chest vibrating against the sudden peaks of her nipples.
When her lips parted under his, his tongue tracing her lower lip recalled her to where they were, in full view of the upstairs foyer if one of the twins came out of their room. “Not here,” she squeaked and pulled out of his grasp. She led him into the library, pulling the pocket door not quite closed so she could hear if one of the twins called out. “Besides, the whisky’s in here.”
She poured their drinks and settled in one corner of the couch, trying for the distance she hoped would slow her heart rate back to normal. If just for a minute, she needed to
think. Heated glances and hot kisses had been missing from her life for a very long time, but how much farther did she want to go with him tonight?
Ian clinked her glass. “Sláinte,” he toasted her.
“And to you,” she answered. “How did the rest of the party go?”
“From where I was? Wet. And cold.” He chuckled, then sipped. “That’s better. Warm from the inside out.” He gave a quick shudder, then grinned. “It took longer than I expected to run out of apples, though I ate as many as I could.”
Lara laughed out loud. For the first time since returning home, mirth bubbled into her chest, relieving her fears.
“That’s why I’m late.” He reached for her hand. “I shouldn’t have brought so many, or I would have been here an hour ago.”
“I’ve been thinking about you since I got home,” Lara admitted. “Wondering if you would change your mind.” She hadn’t changed hers. She wanted him, but with the twins upstairs, she didn’t know how to do this, to entertain a man—hell, she might as well admit it—to have sex with Ian with her children upstairs. She felt awkward and needy at the same time. It had been a long year. But Ian was here, and his hand felt rough and strong and hot holding hers.
She was sure Ian had the same idea when he set his glass aside, then took hers and did the same.
She arched an eyebrow, teasing and serious all at once. “That kiss by the door was a nice start, but nowhere near enough after making me endure such a long wait.” She was playing with fire, and she knew it. She expected Ian to pounce on her, but he surprised her.
“Before we get too carried away, there’s something I need to tell ye,” he said, releasing her hand.
He suddenly looked ill at ease.
“Why? I already know you don’t have a wife at home,” she teased. She considered letting him talk. But she’d waited too long for the nerve to do this, and she wanted Ian’s hands and mouth on her.
“It’s something I’ve been meaning to tell ye for a while…”
“Then it can wait for a while longer, can’t it?” She leaned forward. It seemed her body had decided to throw caution to the wind, even if her brain hadn’t caught on to the idea quite yet. She leaned into him, wanting more. “I’m finally ready for this,” she whispered and then traced a quivering finger down the side of his face and over his mouth. His lips parted enough for her to trace the inner curve of his lower lip with her fingertip while she ran her other hand down his throat and rested it on his chest. She felt his muscles flex under her palm and whispered his name. “For you, Ian…”
With an oath, he pulled her into his arms and brought his mouth down on hers.
Lara melted into his kiss. He tasted of whisky and apples and Ian. Eager to pull him closer, to feel his weight press her into the cushions, she threaded her fingers into his hair and tugged him with her as she leaned back.
While his lips teased hers, his hand traced a trail of tingles down her throat and into the vee of her sweater.
Her lips parted on a moan, letting his tongue invade her mouth and tangle with hers. Hungry for more of him, she sucked gently and he groaned, then brushed his fingertips between her breasts and covered one with his palm. She arched into his hand, willing him to tighten his grip, to stroke and tease, to touch her everywhere he could reach.
“God, lass, ye turn my brain to parritch. I need…”
“I do, too.”
She’d been too long without a man’s hands on her skin, his scent in her nose, his taste on her tongue. Ian wanted her and she wanted him. Over the past three months, he’d shown her kindness and honesty. Now, she wanted passion.
She lost herself in the sensations as Ian explored. His fingers slipped under the hem of her sweater and stroked upward along her ribs, her bare skin heating under his touch as he whispered her name. Then he brushed her nipple and a thrill shot through to her core. When he left her mouth and kissed his way down her throat, she had no doubt where he was going, and she welcomed the brush of cool air on her overheated skin when he lifted her sweater and tugged down the lacy cup of her bra.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, his gaze burning into her flesh. He lifted a molten glance to her face. “Ye slay me, lass.”
He took her straining nipple in his mouth, pressing, stroking and teasing with his tongue and teeth until the urge to get both of them out of their clothes nearly overcame her. But they couldn’t—she hadn’t locked the door. Instead, she pulled his shirt from the waistband of his pants and shoved her hands underneath it, reveling in the flex and bunch of muscles in his back as he shifted over her to bare her other nipple and torment it as he had the first.
She raked her nails down his spine, then pressed with the heels of her hands, urging him more fully over her. She wanted…needed…the sensation of his weight on her.
He complied, covering her and holding her head in both hands as he kissed her.
She wrapped one leg over his and felt his erection press into the apex of her thighs, right where she wanted it. Ian moaned and strained against her. If not for a slightly open door and several layers of clothes, he would be inside her. The idea made her blood sing in her veins.
“God, Lara,” he whispered as he rocked against her. “I’ve hated hiding how much I want ye. Now ye ken…”
“I want you, too, Ian,” she said, and felt him still.
“But we can’t, no’ yet.” His breathing slowed. He lifted his upper body away from her and gazed into her eyes. “First, there is something about me ye must know.”
She stroked the side of his face as her heart slowed and her blood chilled. “Is it so important?”
“I think so, but you will be the judge of that. I’ll feel better if ye ken before we go any farther.”
Suddenly, Amy shrieked, and Alex’s voice cut through the sudden silence with a yelled, “No!”
Lara and Ian jumped apart, tugging down and straightening their clothes. For one mortifying second, Lara thought the twins had walked in on them, and she with her sweater pushed up to her shoulders, but she and Ian were still alone, the door exactly as she’d left it. Thank God.
The twins didn’t sound hurt, just scared, and judging by Alex’s voice, outraged.
Suddenly, Fergus was standing right in front of Ian, then he bolted out the library door, not bothering to open it.
Lara swallowed her shock. “Where…?” she whispered.
“You know where,” Ian barked, threw open the door and ran. Lara followed on his heels.
****
Ian’s thoughts churned as he raced for the old wing. The ghost had finally appeared to fetch him and Lara. The shock of that encounter had yet to leave him, but the ghost’s appearance told him what the twins were doing out of bed and roaming all the way through the house—hunting Fergus. How could they sneak by without him or their mother being aware? They could have walked in on them in the library, in the middle of what they’d finally been doing, and in the middle of the confession he’d been about to make. As he ran toward where he thought he’d heard their voices, his pulse still raced with the memory of Lara’s touch, the heat of her body under his. Her scent still teased him with every breath.
Ian was fast, but so was Lara.
As they reached the wing’s entry, she plowed into his back and demanded “Where?”
“Quiet,” he whispered. The lights blazed, but the ground floor main hallway was empty. So were the visible rooms, including the ones near where he and Rollo had found what they presumed were Fergus’s bones.
She nodded and pushed past him, the intensity of her stare as her head turned right and left telling him she expected to see some disaster had befallen the twins.
“Upstairs,” Ian mouthed, crossed the hallway, his longer stride letting him get ahead of her again, and started up. He could hear Alex arguing with someone—or something—and Amy sniffling. The closer he got, the more distinctly angry Alex’s voice got.
“Leave that alone!” Alex shouted.
A deeper vo
ice, oddly muffled, answered, but Ian didn’t catch what was said.
No doubt, Lara could hear them, too, and her maternal instincts must be screaming for her to race up the stairs past him. Ian gave her credit for keeping her head and staying behind him. He was bigger, stronger, and better equipped to deal with a human threat. The twins might have started out ghost hunting, but they’d found something decidedly human. A deep voice answered Alex, and Ian didn’t think ghosts could talk. Certainly not a ghost hound.
Lara stumbled on the step below him. He twisted around to grab her arm and save her from a fall, thankful she hadn’t cried out. Once she nodded she was okay, she hooked her fingers into his belt and they continued up the stairs.
When they reached the second floor, Ian could scarcely credit what he saw. Lara’s quick intake of breath as she moved up next to him hinted at her shock.
A man in a ski mask stood in the first open portal they’d cut into the hidden rooms, a bulging sack in one hand, likely full of treasures, his other hand empty. His stare was riveted to the giant deerhound, teeth bared, dark eyes glinting with danger, standing between him and the twins.
Alex and Amy stood off to the side of the stairs, postures stiff. Alex had stopped talking when Ian and his mother appeared, but Amy still sniffled.
Frightened, most likely. Alex seemed calm, but it was the most unnerved Ian had seen the normally confident lass behave. Her upset had the effect of making his rage at the robber burn even hotter. “What do ye think ye are doing in here?” Ian demanded.
The robber’s eyes darted from Fergus to Ian and back again. “Keep that beast away from me.”
Ian exchanged a look with Lara and then with each of the twins.
“Fergus has been guarding us,” Alex informed them, his tone as cool as could be. “And keeping him from getting away.” He indicated the burglar with a lift of his chin. “He’s trying to steal our stuff.”
