“Ciar has probably long since forgotten you,” Michael said. “What makes you think you’re so fine a fellow she’ll bother with you now you’re gone?”
Niall didn’t think he was fine or important. But he was certain Ciar’s pride would prompt her to hunt him down and punish him for spurning her. No one turned down the fairy queen and survived unscathed. And if Niall wasn’t available, Ciar had left him in no doubt that she’d delight in hurting those he loved.
Niall straightened his cuffs to ensure that his knives were concealed. “Here’s what’s going to happen. I’ll transfer enough money to pay off your loan. Then I’ll take a ride to Lostwithiel and fetch accounting copies from Radcliffs. That should be enough to satisfy Rose Tremain, if the lass is genuine.”
Niall grasped his brother’s shoulder. “While I’m gone, be mindful of how you answer her questions. Don’t go telling her about me computer, nor that I gave you the Porsche. If she asks about the money I’ve paid into the business, tell the lass to speak to me when I get back.”
Michael frowned. “What money might that be?”
Niall resisted the urge to shake his brother; it wasn’t Michael’s fault he’d been mollycoddled. Sometimes Niall thought his father had done him a favor when he’d abandoned him. “No matter. Tell you what: don’t answer any questions. When I get back from me jaunt, I’ll speak with her.”
After striding into the kitchen, Niall made a quick phone call to transfer money, and then fetched his helmet and jacket. He’d stop briefly at Hedgehog Cottage to check on Ana, then go to Lostwithiel. He glanced at the clock above the fridge. If he got the accounts to Rose Tremain by lunchtime, then gave her a hand in the afternoon, they should be rid of her by evening.
Rose froze beside her car in the parking lot, the packet of mints she’d come to fetch clutched against her chest. Her mind was buzzing with the snatches of Niall and Michael’s conversation that the breeze had carried from behind the pub. With his own words, Niall O’Connor had confirmed that he was hiding facts from her. Where did he get his money? Why was he hiding it? Maybe he was a criminal on the run. He did have an air of danger about him. She shivered with a mixture of fear and fascination.
Michael had told her the truth last night. Niall owned a computer, and he didn’t want her to check it. Part of her wanted to confront him, but direct confrontation might not be the most effective tactic, especially when she wasn’t sure of her facts. She rubbed at a spot of tension in her neck. If she checked his computer, she’d have a better idea what she was dealing with.
What if she discovered he was on the wrong side of the law? Rose glanced at the back corner of the pub. A chill trickled down her spine. She’d just have to contact the police.
After closing her car door quietly, she thumbed the remote lock on her key and returned to the office. Next, she had to find Niall’s computer. As if thinking of the man conjured him up, the roar of his motorcycle engine outside rattled the office window.
She checked her watch. The round trip to Lostwithiel and a visit to the accountant shouldn’t take him longer than an hour. There was no time to waste.
With notebook in hand, she headed through the reception hall and climbed two flights of stairs to the swing door marked, PRIVATE. She knocked, hoping Michael was busy downstairs. After thirty seconds with no response, she pushed open the door and called his name. Her heart beat a dull thud in her ears as she listened to the silence.
Rose crept up the steps to the top floor, then gazed down the hallway. Four doors stood ajar, two on either side. The first two led into a small sitting room and a bathroom, respectively. A stifling cocktail of women’s perfumes and cigarettes emanated from the third room. She wrinkled her nose and risked a peek. Black satin sheets and a gold headboard made her think of a bordello—so probably Michael’s bedroom. She closed the door and headed for the fourth room.
Panic pulsed in her throat as she eased the door open. Although she knew Niall was out, her hand trembled on the knob. This wasn’t her usual modus operandi. But then, Niall O’Connor wasn’t the usual type of client.
Drawing a deep breath, she willed herself to be calm. The room was plain and reasonably tidy. No clothes lay on the tan carpet, and the bed was neatly covered with a navy bedspread. “Bingo,” she whispered at the sight of the laptop computer on the pine desk beneath the window on the far side of the bed.
After a glance at her watch, she took a seat and twitched the mouse to bring the screen to life. A password request flashed up. Rose tapped her nails on the desk. She should have expected Niall to be security-conscious. Now she was stumped.
On impulse, she typed in Elephant’s Nest and hit enter. When that didn’t work, she tried Niall O’Connor backward, then a few name combinations without success.
Frustrated, she fluffed her hair and glanced around for inspiration. Wintry sun glittered off the top of a small wooden box on the windowsill. Pick it up, a voice said in her head. Trusting her intuition, she did so. The top was decorated with a silver shield bearing the heraldic symbols of an oak tree and two lions. Beneath the coat of arms an inscription read, O Dhia gach an cabhair.
An instinct she’d learned to trust as a child made her type the phrase. A picture opened of a strange brown-skinned child by a thatched cottage. Rose squinted at the screen. The building appeared to be scaled down to fit the child, like an elaborate play house. After puzzling over the image for a few seconds, she dismissed it and checked the list of programs. There was no accounting software.
“Darn,” she whispered to herself. She checked Excel and found a spreadsheet that purported to show payments Niall had made to the Elephant’s Nest. Some were rent, but a number of large amounts were described as Hedgehog Cottage expenses. Could this be a money-laundering scam? Rose looked over her shoulder at the door, bit her lip, and hit print.
Her heart pounded in time with the click of the printer, until the machine spit out three sheets of paper and fell silent. She jammed the sheets into her notebook and pressed a hand to her heart. She was fast realizing she was not cut out for sleuthing.
A quick glance at the open windows minimized at the bottom of the screen revealed an online stockbroking service. That must be how he made his money—at least, she hoped so. Although there was something scary about Niall O’Connor, he fascinated her. She’d be disappointed to discover he was a crook.
She hadn’t found much, but at least the printout gave her a starting point for her questions. After setting the computer to standby, she tucked the notebook beneath her arm, then picked up the wooden box to return it to the windowsill. Tingles ran across her skin. She blinked, trying to clear her mind as drowsiness tugged down her eyelids. A dreamy sensation fluttered through her mind, whispering of secrets and dark delights.
She must put the box down. And she would in a minute, when she could summon the strength to place it back on…A wave of heat shimmered up through her body. Oh, God. She dropped back onto the seat. What on earth did Niall keep in the box? With trembling fingers, she eased up the lid.
Rose’s breath caught. Three small linked circles of pale stone nestled in black velvet. The strange jewelry was similar to the piece her mother had given her when she was a child. She touched her chest and felt the earthy brown stones she always wore underneath her blouse. Her mother had told her never to take the stone pendant off. Obviously, nobody had given Niall the same advice.
“Niall.” Her voice quavered on his name. The urge to touch his stones filled her with sharp longing. “Get a grip, woman.” Rose tried to drag her gaze away.
She blinked and shook her head. How long had she been in the room? All she had to do was close the lid and place the box back on the windowsill. Her fingertip slipped into the box, grazed across the top stone. Everything smoothed out inside her; worries drifted away. Between her breasts, the stone pendent she’d worn against her heart all her life resonated with the elemental beat of the stones beneath her fingers. Her eyelids lowered, and she toppled down, down
into a place of dark, hazy pleasure.
Chapter Three
Wind rustled the last dry leaves clinging to the oak trees around Hedgehog Cottage. Niall knelt on the damp earth before his tiny half sister and pushed her dark curls behind her ears. She shook her head and the wiry twists of hair bounced free around her nut-brown face.
“Are you sure there’s nothing you’re wanting?” he asked.
She studied him with large brown eyes and shook her head. “You and me, lad, we don’t need much.”
“Aye, that’s for sure. But I like to get you things, Ana. You must indulge me fancy to spoil you on occasion.”
She clutched the sheepskin collar of his jacket, pulled him forward, and kissed his cheek. He breathed in the fragrance of newly baked bread that clung to her clothes and his sister’s earthy scent—familiar since she’d tended him as a babe. He gathered her chunky little body in his arms and closed his eyes. It was his turn to care for her now. Instead, he’d put her in danger by rebuffing Ciar and bringing her vengeance down on Ana. He should have let the fairy queen have her way with him. He’d suffered worse indignities.
Ana pulled away and patted his cheek with a small, warm hand. “Don’t you go worrying about me, darling boy. Take a leaf out of your brother’s book and go have yourself a good time.”
Niall’s guilty heart ached as she crouched, placed her palm on the damp soil, and whispered a leprechaun earth-magic blessing for him. A wrinkle of power shivered up through his knees.
She grinned. “Be off with you now, lad, and let me get back to me baking.”
He stood, reluctant to leave. “Look after yourself, Ana.”
She flapped her hand dismissively. “A worrywart you are, and no mistake. Begone.”
Niall mounted his bike, pulled on his helmet, and raised a hand in farewell when he left the clearing in front of Hedgehog Cottage. As he maneuvered along the narrow track hidden among the trees, he glanced toward the Elephant’s Nest just visible through the bare branches two hundred yards to his left.
A stunning jolt of pleasure swept through him. His heart pounded. Blood flashed. All strength left his body. The bike slewed over on the wet track, throwing him into the dirt. The roar of the engine sputtered, died. He lay on the soft leaf litter, panting with shock as he tried to clear the fuzziness from his mind.
After a few seconds, he flipped up the visor on his helmet, dragged in a shuddering breath, and stared at the gently swaying branches. What in the Furies had just happened?
He sat up and brushed the dead leaves and mud from his clothes. His whole body hummed with awareness. A subtle thread of connection pulled at his mind. He looked around, confused. Someone was messing with him psychically. Fear pricked. Maybe one of Ciar’s people had found him or—
“Dagda!” Realization hit like a punch in the gut. Someone had touched his Magic Knot. If the person broke it, Niall’s mind, body, and spirit would be rent asunder, each to flounder alone in the shadowy in-between world. Such a punishment would appeal to Ciar.
Niall surged to his feet, ignoring the sick swell of nausea in his gut, and sprinted through the trees toward the Elephant’s Nest.
After racing through the front door, he mounted the stairs two at a time. The humming in his head befuddled him as though he’d drunk one tot of whiskey too many. He grabbed the handrail on the second-floor landing to steady himself before he yanked open the swinging door to the private flat and climbed the last stairs.
His bedroom door stood wide. As he approached, he flexed his fingers, ready to palm a knife. He hesitated for a heartbeat, then stepped into the open doorway.
Rose Tremain sat on the chair before his desk, his Magic Knot cradled in her palm. She swayed slightly, her eyes dazed and dreamy. His nerves sparked. Need for her struck like lightning. He managed to suck in air, to ruthlessly crush the feeling until his body calmed.
So, he had been right: Rose Tremain was more dangerous than she appeared. She’d been sent to enslave him by capturing his stones. If she thought he’d give in easily, she had another think coming.
Silently, he walked forward and closed his hand over hers. His vision blurred at the whip of sensation. Too late, he realized his mistake in touching her. Gritting his teeth, he fought the mental pull as she sucked his very essence through their joined hands into a deep, hidden part of her that whispered of ancient magic and mystery.
Niall snatched up his Magic Knot and stumbled back. His breath came in short gasps as he stared at her in shock. Rose was the Cornish pisky Tristan wanted. How had she stopped them from sensing the truth about her? That deception alone proved she was up to no good.
Slowly, her green eyes focused on him. Confusion set tiny creases between her delicate brows; then surprise chased them away. She slapped a hand over her mouth.
“Aye, be afraid, little thief,” he whispered. “You’ll pay dearly for your deception before I’m done with you.”
“Oh, my God.” Rose stared at the flinty expression in Niall’s eyes, then down at her empty palm. She clenched her fist and pressed it against her pounding heart. How the hell had she let him catch her?
“I didn’t mean…I’m sorry.” There was no adequate way to apologize. Most of the time, she thought of her own stones as nothing more than peculiar jewelry, but she hated people touching them. “I saw the box and…I know it sounds daft, but it’s as if they called to me.”
Niall’s features hardened. “Don’t be thinking you’ll bind me to you, lass. I’m stronger than Ciar imagines.”
“Ciar?” Rose shook her head. “Who’s Ciar? I don’t know what you mean. I came up here for…” She glanced at his laptop, her memory fuzzy. She’d checked out his computer…then what? Had she found anything?
“Go on.” He crossed his arms. “Let’s hear your excuses.”
“You lied to me about there being no computer—”
“No, lass. You didn’t listen properly. I told you Michael didn’t have a computer.”
Rose felt her dander rise at his condescending tone. She had not misunderstood what she’d overheard him say in the parking lot. “Semantics. It doesn’t matter who owns the computer. If the machine’s used in the business, I need access.”
“And did you find anything useful with your prying?”
“In the course of undertaking a legitimate investigation, I checked for accounting software and looked at Excel.”
“Legitimate.” He laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. “So tell me, what incriminating evidence did you find?”
His eyes gleamed coldly fierce. Now was not the time to confront him about the spreadsheet. She stood, retrieved her notebook from his desk and twisted it between her hands. “We’ll discuss my findings when I’ve had longer to investigate the pub finances. Now I need to get on with it.”
Niall turned, dropped his stones into the box, and put it back on the windowsill. Rose took the opportunity to try to sidle between him and the bed to reach the door.
With a casual stride, he widened his stance to block her escape route. Rose jumped back, notebook clutched to her chest like a shield.
He fixed her with an implacable stare. “’Tis time to cut to the chase. Who sent you?”
“Who sent me?” She backed up another step. “Didn’t you read the card I gave you this morning?”
He became inhumanly still, his face an unreadable mask more unnerving than anger. “Cut the crap. Who really sent you? Queen Ciar?”
“Queen Ciar?” Rose repeated the name in an incredulous whisper. What was he involved in, an international crime ring? Did someone have a contract out on him? That would explain why he hid the fact that he had money. Fear slithered through her, and she edged farther back. “I don’t know what sort of trouble you’re in, but it’s nothing to do with me. I’m from Francis Marchant.”
“Lies.” He jerked a thumb toward the box containing his stones. “You know full well the Knot revealed who you are and why you’re here. Drop the innocent act, lass, and answer
me questions. Otherwise I’ll have to make you talk.” His expression hardened, and he took a step closer.
Rose threw up a hand to stop him and backed into the nightstand. “I’m warning you: I know self-defense.”
He flexed his hands at his sides like a man about to draw a gun. Fear sent adrenaline spurting through her, setting every sense on high alert. She must get away. Niall O’Connor was dangerous. Her colleagues weren’t expecting her back in the office until the following week. If he hurt her, no one would miss her until it was too late.
Instinctive self-preservation cut in. She glanced across his bed and leaped onto the mattress heading for the door. The second she moved, he came after her. His fingers closed around her ankles. With a yank, he dragged her legs from under her and flipped her onto her back. She crashed down on the mattress, the air knocked from her lungs. The back of her head thumped the pillow with a whack that sent stars spiraling across her vision.
The Magic Knot Page 4
