Once Upon a Star

by Nora Roberts

  Alfred glowered, while Desmond, the more diplomatic of the two, managed to call out, without too much enthusiasm, “Good morning, miss.” He indicated the dining hall. “Fergus has just started a fire. His lordship and Sir Charles won’t be downstairs for a bit yet, but you’re welcome to wait in there, and I’ll bring you whatever you’d like.”

  “Thank you, Desmond. But all I’d like is some coffee. I’ll take it with me to my new workroom.”

  “Yes, miss.” He and his brother exchanged a look before he said, “Fergus has already set up the tables you requested. If you wish to go ahead, I’ll be along shortly with your coffee.”

  “Thank you. I’d like that.” Her wide smile betrayed her delight. “I can’t wait to get started.”

  She followed the twists and turns of the hallways, hoping she could remember the way. When she finally stepped inside the old playroom, she was surprised at the transformation. The floors had been swept clean, and the dust and cobwebs removed. A fire blazed at either end of the big room. In the middle were three long tables, spaced several feet apart.

  She set her briefcase on the first table and removed pens, notebooks, and a handful of reference books. Then she opened her computer, plugging in the modem before turning it on.

  She looked up when Desmond approached, carrying a silver tray covered with a linen cloth.

  He set it in front of her and removed the cloth to reveal a carafe of coffee and a china cup, as well as cream and sugar and a plate of freshly baked scones and a little pot of jam.

  “Would you like anything else, miss?”

  “Oh, no, Desmond. This looks wonderful. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He took a step back, then glanced around. “What made you choose this room for your work?”

  “Hmmm?” She poured coffee, then looked up. “I believe it was Sir Charles who suggested it.”

  “I see.” He nodded, then continued looking around, as though in search of something. “If you should find it…not to your liking, I’d be happy to have Fergus set you up in some other room in the castle, miss.”

  “Thank you, Desmond. I’m sure this will be just fine. When Fergus has finished his morning chores, would you mind sending him here? Lord Cameron said that whenever you can spare the lad, he could help me by carting some of the heavier artifacts.”

  “Aye, miss. I’ll send him right along. Which room will you be starting in?”

  “Lord Cameron suggested I start with the rooms in the north tower, which haven’t been used for years.”

  “Very good. Fergus can show you the way.”

  When he was gone, Estelle sipped her coffee and broke off a piece of scone, nibbling as she walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows. In the morning sunlight the view was breathtaking. The rain had washed the land clean, revealing undulating hills of deep green and, on the distant meadow, a carpet of heather. Beyond that was forest, wild and tangled, and falling from a high peak, a waterfall that tumbled into a loch far below.

  What would it be like, she wondered, to awake to this each morning and know that everything, as far as the eye could see, was yours? What would it do to a man? Would he simply take it all for granted, as a king surveying his kingdom? Would it make him hungry for more? Or would he be content and wish nothing more than to remain here forever?

  Though she heard not a sound, she sensed that she was no longer alone. Turning, she found Fergus standing in the doorway, watching her.

  “Good morning, Fergus.” She offered a friendly smile. “Have you finished with your morning chores?”

  He nodded.

  “Good. Lord Cameron suggested I start with the north tower. Would you mind showing me the way?”

  He turned and started down a corridor. Estelle set down her cup and followed. She had no trouble keeping up with him. Despite his size and strength, he moved at a snail’s pace.

  Finally he paused and pulled open a door, then stood aside, allowing her to enter first. What she saw took her breath away.

  It was a lady’s boudoir, with a satin-covered bed and bed hangings and a matching chaise.

  “Oh, this is just perfect.” Estelle slowly circled the room, noting the crystal lamps, the mirrored tray on which rested a comb and brush of hammered gold. There were paintings hanging on the walls in soft pastels, statues in corners and on pedestals that appeared to be made of marble and jade, and pretty little boxes encrusted with semiprecious jewels.

  She worked quickly, tagging those pieces she considered most important. “If you can bring these tagged items to my workroom, Fergus, I’d be most grateful. But I must caution you to be very careful. If they should be damaged, their value could be lost.”

  The lad nodded and lumbered forward, plucking two crystal lamps from a dressing table. Estelle continued on to the rest of the rooms in the north wing, delighted with the treasures she found in each. Then, while Fergus made dozens of trips back and forth from the various rooms, she settled down to begin the task of examining each piece and photographing it in anticipation of the sale.

  As she picked up the first piece, the brush of hammered gold, she had to swallow the lump in her throat. It was true that the gold alone was worth a fortune. But what meant even more to her was the fact that it had been here, in this very place, for hundreds of years. How many women had held this in their hands and run it through their hair? Had a man commissioned this for his lover? His wife? Perhaps on their wedding day?

  “Good. I see you’ve started.”

  At the sound of Lord Cameron’s voice, she looked up sharply, the spell broken. “Yes. I…was just examining this brush.”

  “So I see.” He’d seen much more. He’d been standing there for several minutes, watching her without her knowledge. It had given him a chance to really look at her. In the morning sunlight she appeared as clean and fresh as the flowers blooming in the meadow. Everything about her was so neat and tidy. Her hair was pulled back into a knot, without a single strand out of place. She had slipped on those round glasses, which only added to her prim and proper schoolmarm look. A look he found most appealing. She had rare beauty. A lovely oval face. High cheekbones. A perfectly sculpted mouth. The sight of it made his throat go dry, and he remembered their nighttime encounter with gratitude. It had caused him to see her in a way he couldn’t forget.

  She held up the brush. “I would advise you not to sell this to the first bidder. It’s worth a fortune.”

  He walked closer and took it from her hand. At once he felt the jolt and could see in his mind’s eye the vision of his ancestor running it through a woman’s hair. It had been part of their courtship ritual. The man had taken the pins out of the woman’s hair, then had worked the brush through the long waves, all the while watching the reflection of her eyes in the mirror of the dressing table.

  Rob blinked. The vision left him shaken. He managed to keep his voice unemotional. “It looks quite old.”

  “At least two hundred years. Maybe more. Do you know anything about it?”

  He shook his head. “Afraid not. My sister, Patience, probably would have known. I’m told she made a detailed history of the place. It was the great passion of her life.”

  “How wonderful. Perhaps she’d be willing to help me.”

  “My sister died when I was just an infant.”

  “I’m sorry. Are there any other brothers or sisters?”

  He shook his head. “Just the two of us. Patience was already married when I was born. Needless to say, I was quite a surprise to my parents, and to my sister. She died shortly after I was born. The child she was carrying died as well.”

  “How terrible for her husband.”

  His tone was dry. “He managed to survive. It was much harder on my parents. My mother never got over it. She died a few months later, leaving my father in a state of shock.”

  Estelle thought about the curse. No wonder that even today people believed such a thing. This story only added another layer to the myth.

  “After my mother
’s death I’m not certain that the family could have held together without Uncle Charles, who is my father’s younger brother. He pulled my father through a very rough time. As for me, it was always Uncle Charles that I turned to in times of trouble.”

  “Then I can see why you love him so.”

  “Aye.” Up close, the round glasses seemed to magnify her eyes. Last night he’d thought they were blue. But he could see now that they were more green than blue. And her hair looked like fire in the sunlight. He itched to touch it. He had the most unreasonable urge to take the pins out of it and watch it tumble about her shoulders. And an even more unreasonable urge to kiss her. He stared at her mouth, mesmerized by the thought of those full, ripe lips crushed beneath his.

  It was the brush, he thought. Just holding it had given him all sorts of fanciful ideas. He handed it back to her. “We’ll be having breakfast when Uncle Charles comes down in an hour or so. I hope you’ll join us.”

  “Thank you. I’m sure that by then I’ll have worked up an appetite.”

  He nodded. “I’ll send someone to fetch you.”

  As he walked away he passed Fergus, who carried a marble statue that would have staggered most men. He watched as the lad set it down on the table.

  “My uncle has need of you now, Fergus.”

  The lad nodded before lumbering away.

  For a moment longer Rob paused, watching as Estelle carefully examined the gold brush, then bent toward her computer to enter her remarks.

  He had told her, in the space of a few seconds, more than he’d ever told anyone about his family. And though he’d revealed few secrets, he was surprised by even those simple admissions.

  He turned away and found, to his amazement, that his hands were actually trembling.

  He’d have to see to it that he got more rest in the nights to come. What else but a lack of sleep could explain his strange reaction to this woman? As for the vision of the brush, that was a bit easier. It was merely the strain of knowing that he would have to dispose of everything he’d ever loved in order that his father’s reputation could remain untarnished.

  Still, he would have to take pains to keep his distance in the days to come. He needed to focus all his attention on the problem at hand. The last thing he needed was a distraction. Especially one as tempting as Estelle Sinclair.

  4

  ESTELLE SLOWLY LIFTED her head and studied Lord Cameron’s back as he walked away. She let out her breath on a long, slow sigh of relief. Whenever he got too close, she had to struggle with the most unnerving sensations. She couldn’t explain them. But she would have sworn that for one breathless moment he’d been about to kiss her.

  Ridiculous. They had known each other less than twenty-four hours. He barely acknowledged her presence in his home. And yet she couldn’t shake the feeling.

  He had the most incredible eyes. Eyes that seemed to see clear through her. And he exuded strength. Not just physical strength, though that was apparent in the width of his shoulders, in the bulge of muscles that the sleeves of his sweater couldn’t camouflage. This was an inner strength. She could sense in him an iron will and, despite his cultured manners, a keen edge of danger. He wouldn’t be a man to cross.

  “So. Have ye come to play, then?”

  At the childish burr, Estelle glanced around. The boy was standing in a corner of the room, his face half hidden in shadow.

  “I didn’t hear you come in. How long have you been here?”

  “Long enough to know ye’re alone. I waited for the others to leave.”

  “Why? Are you shy around people?”

  He laughed, a clear sound like the tinkling of a bell. “Ye might say that.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Jamie.”

  She pushed back her chair and crossed to him, holding out her hand. “Hello, Jamie. My name is Estelle.”

  “I know.” He placed his small hand in hers, and she felt a shimmer of heat.

  She crouched down, studying him intently. “What an adorable costume.” She ran a finger along the soft fabric of the wide-sleeved shirt, tucked into the waist of satin knee britches. On his feet were high stockings peeking out above well-worn boots. “Are you practicing for a play?”

  “What’s a play?”

  “Make-believe. Acting.”

  “Ach. Nay. These are my clothes.”

  “I see. I’ll bet you found them in a trunk. Are you someone’s grandson? Alfred’s or Desmond’s?”

  “They’ve no family save the Camerons. That’s why they’re so sad. They fear they’re about to lose the only home and family they’ve ever known.”

  “Why would they think that?”

  “Because Lord Cameron is on the verge of losing everything he loves.”

  “What nonsense. Jamie, why would you say such a thing? Look around you. Why, he must be worth millions.”

  The boy stared up at her. “Ye dinna know? That’s why ye’re here, Estelle Sinclair. To prepare for sale the things that are most valuable, in order to keep Castle Clough from falling into the wrong hands.”

  She sat back on her heels, alarmed at what she was hearing. “I’m sure you’re mistaken, Jamie. I think Lord Cameron merely wants to be rid of some of the things that are gathering dust.”

  “Why would ye think that?”

  “He made it clear that he disdains his title. I assume he thinks even less of his family possessions.”

  “Then ye dunna know him at all. He rejects his title because of what it did to his father. And because he fears it will set him apart from others. He’s a man of the soil. A man of this land. He’s very good at hiding his true feelings. But his heart is breaking at what he’s about to do.”

  “How would a boy like you know so much?”

  He gave her a strange, knowing look. “I hear things.”

  “How?”

  His lips split into an impish grin that tugged at her heart. “Most people canna see me. So they speak freely when I’m around.”

  “Really?” She was laughing now. This boy was delightful. “Do you make yourself invisible?”

  “Aye.”

  “Professor Sinclair.”

  At the sound of Desmond’s voice she looked up, then got to her feet.

  “Lord Cameron wishes you to join him and his uncle for a morning meal.”

  “Thank you, Desmond. I’d like to bring…” She turned. Jamie was gone. She turned a complete circle, then circled again, glancing over her shoulder as she did. But he was nowhere to be seen.

  “Yes, miss?” Desmond stood in the doorway, looking puzzled.

  “Nothing. Thank you. Tell Lord Cameron I’ll be there shortly.”

  “Yes, miss.” The butler walked away.

  When he was gone, Jamie gave his little laugh. Estelle turned to find him standing exactly where she’d last seen him.

  “What sort of trick is this?” She wasn’t so much frightened as she was annoyed. How had she overlooked him?

  “I told ye. I can make myself disappear whenever I choose. For I only permit certain people to see me.”

  “Is that so? Then why me, Jamie? Why have you decided to let me see you?”

  “I need…I need someone I can trust. And I think…Tell me. Can I trust ye, Estelle Sinclair?”

  “That depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On whether there will be any more tricks like that. Whatever you’re doing, I want you to stop.”

  For a moment a look of contrition came over him. He folded his hands behind his back and hung his head. Then, just as quickly, the mood was gone, and he brightened. “Oh. Ye sound just like my mother. I knew I could trust ye.” He surprised her by wrapping his arms around her neck and giving her a fierce hug.

  “What was that for?”

  “For scolding me. It’s been ever so long since I’ve had anyone scold me. I’ve missed that. I have to go now. But I’ll be back.”

  Estelle started toward the door. “I’ll walk with you. I have to jo
in Lord Cameron and his uncle for breakfast.”

  At the door she turned, expecting him to be trailing behind her. Instead, the room was empty. Though she peered into every corner, there was no denying that Jamie was gone and she was alone.

  Puzzled, and more alarmed than she cared to admit, she made her way quickly to the dining hall, determined to tell no one of this. If Lord Cameron should find out, he might dismiss her on the spot, claiming she’d lost her mind.

  “Ah, here she is, Rob.” Sir Charles looked up from the table and smiled as Estelle hurried across the room. “We were just speculating on what was keeping you.”

  “I got a little busy.” She accepted the chair Rob offered and waited to speak until he took his place at the head of the table. She continued to hold her silence while Alfred Snow served her plate.

  Sir Charles cleared his throat. “Are you finding everything you need, my dear?”

  “Yes, thank you. And I’m grateful that you could spare Fergus. He’s very helpful.”

  Charles glanced at his nephew. “The lad has the strength of a bull and the heart of a warrior.”

  Estelle sipped her tea. “Why doesn’t he speak?”

  “He will when he has something to say.”

  She looked up. “You’ve heard him?”

  “Once or twice.” Charles dug into his eggs with a sigh of pleasure. Eating was one of the few things he could still enjoy. “Actually, Rob has heard him more often than anyone.”

  “He speaks to you?” Estelle turned to Lord Cameron.

  He nodded. “When it’s necessary.”

  Charles spread jam on a scone and popped it into his mouth. “How long do you think it will take to prepare everything for sale, my dear?”

  “I’ll try to complete a walk-through of the entire castle by the end of the week, tagging those items that I think will bring the highest offers.” She turned to Rob. “As I explained, they won’t bring nearly the money you’d get if you could circulate a catalogue that would stimulate excitement and then offer them at auction a year from now. Dealers from all over the world would be bidding against each other for such treasures.”