Ariadne's Thread

by Marie Treanor

  “Helen?” Johnny hazarded, and in spite of herself Addie laughed.

  “Helen. I like your mum.” As soon as she said it, she regretted it. Hastily she dropped her gaze, all but snatching the tea tray from Johnny.

  He let her go, but she felt his eyes boring into her rigid back as she hurried out of the kitchen. She was glad she couldn’t see his expression.

  Chapter Eleven

  Tammy felt increasingly frustrated. The euphoria of Dan’s first appearance, her total belief he would somehow repel the intruders and make all well again, had long ago vanished. He didn’t even seem to notice there was anything amiss. What’s more, so sure had she been that he already knew it, she hadn’t even troubled to tell him herself. And then she’d assumed Johnny would tell him during the long car-tinkering session, but that didn’t seem to be the case either.

  What the hell was Johnny thinking? Seemed to Tammy as they all sat around eating toasted cheese and drinking coffee, his attention strayed far too often to the sexy burglar with the bad hair.

  Not that they sat together, or spoke to each other, or made any effort to leave the room at the same time, but if she hadn’t known better, Tammy could have imagined her brother was interested in more than her criminal history.

  Addie herself seemed to have latched on to Dan, and for some reason that annoyed her more than either Johnny’s possible lapse in loyalty or Gavin’s amorous hands.

  One thing was certain. This state of armed neutrality, with both her family and the burglars pretending nothing was wrong, had to end. She was buggered if she’d spend another night with those bastards watching her every move.

  “Time for bed, I think,” she said brightly, jumping to her feet as soon as she’d swallowed the last of her hot chocolate.

  “It’s not late,” Jack exclaimed, staring up with hostility from his card game with his father.

  “It is when you’ve been up for two days,” she retorted. “I didn’t just mean you, I meant all of us. None of us got any sleep last night,” she explained to her ex. Let him make of that what he would.

  “Except Addie,” Malky chimed in.

  “Except Addie,” she agreed. “Unless the randy ghosts disturbed her.”

  “Randy?” Addie glanced up, startled. For some reason, she looked at Johnny, then hastily away again with a smothered laugh. “Oh, dear.”

  “So I’m going to take Gran upstairs now and then I’m off to bed.”

  “Didn’t sleep myself,” said Dan, getting to his feet. “You can show me to the dog house on your way.”

  “Good night,” said Shug loudly. Tammy actually felt annoyed with herself for looking at him. He stared at her, his hand on his jacket pocket like a Roman salute. She knew what he meant. Shut it, I still have a gun and if the cop causes any trouble I’ll use it on your family.

  Bastard.

  She refused to look at Gavin. He’d be tapping at her door in less than an hour anyway…

  “Going to change my nappy, too?” Gran snapped as Tammy began to maneuver her out of her chair.

  “I’m tired, Gran. Let’s just go.”

  Gran subsided, muttering. “Where’s he going to sleep?” she demanded, pointing her walking stick at Dan as they paused at the foot of the stairs.

  “In the dog house, apparently,” Tammy answered calmly.

  “We don’t have a dog house.”

  “Even better.”

  “Your great-granddaughter has a cruel streak,” Dan observed, picking the old lady up as easily as a doll.

  “I taught her all I know.”

  “Sometimes,” Dan observed as he began to carry her up the stairs, “people make mistakes. Big ones, hurtful ones, stupid ones. Sometimes, their own regret is punishment enough.”

  “And sometimes it isn’t,” Tammy said flatly.

  “See?” Gran taunted. Apparently Dan saw only too well, for he sighed.

  As usual, Gran sent her away at the door, refusing all further help and shutting the door in their faces.

  “So where are you putting your Glasgow visitors?” Dan asked as she turned toward her own door.

  “Don’t know, don’t care. Johnny can sort them out.”

  “Well, I’d count the family silver before you let them leave.”

  “Too late for that, Dan.” She didn’t know whether to be pleased to be proved right, or angry at male stupidity.

  Dan stared at her, frowning. “What?”

  “You heard me. They’ve already robbed us. They’re not exactly here by invitation. That Psycho-Weasel has a bloody great handgun in his pocket, and if we do anything to piss him off, he’s liable to use it. No doubt on Mum or Gran or Jack or someone who can’t fight back. Bastard!”

  At least she had the satisfaction of seeing him thoroughly rattled. It wasn’t nearly as comforting as it should have been. She couldn’t believe she’d actually been depending on this idiot—he was as useless as Gavin. And she had lousy taste in men.

  “Are you all right?” he said at last.

  “Spiffing,” she said sarcastically.

  “And this stuff in Jack’s bedroom…was that really some sort of paranormal attack? Or one of those…”

  “Oh, that was paranormal. Everything’s out to get me now.”

  Unexpectedly, Dan threw his arm round her shoulders in a quick, rough hug. Before she could even object, it was gone. Lucky for him.

  “So tonight, we’re all going to bed to sleep peacefully? And tomorrow morning, weather willing, we’re just going to wave them off with the family silver?”

  “Unless you’ve got a better idea.”

  Dan was frowning. “What about that girl? McSween’s sister. What the hell is she up to?”

  “Christ knows. She makes their tea, apparently. Come to that, she’s been making ours, too. Actually I was going to ask you about her. You seemed pretty thick with her.”

  “Never does any harm, in a professional sort of a way, to get to know a McSween. They’ll have brought her to drive. None of these jokers have a license. Actually, she was largely trying to pick my brains about Gavin. And Julia. Who killed her.”

  It was Tammy’s turn to frown. “What’s any of that to her?”

  Dan shrugged. “Seems to me your attitude to her is a trifle ambivalent, too. So is Johnny’s.”

  Ignoring that, Tammy demanded, “What did you tell her?”

  “That Julia was stabbed to death by person or persons unknown under this roof. That Johnny and Gavin were the only suspects. Rather less than she’d have known from reading the newspapers.”

  “Gavin was never seriously suspected,” Tammy said defensively.

  “He was never charged,” Dan corrected.

  “And Johnny was acquitted.”

  “So who do you think did it, Tammy?” he demanded. “If not one of them, who killed Julia?”

  “How the hell should I know? Some intruder! If nothing else, this lot have proved how easy it is to intrude. Trust me, they are not the smartest burglars in the west.”

  ef

  “Where’s that bloody shotgun?”

  Shug fired the words at Malky like bullets, almost as soon as the door closed behind Tammy, Dan and the old lady.

  Addie, who’d hoped that somehow through tiredness and the distraction of an unofficial police presence, Shug would forget about the other weapon, almost groaned.

  The big man looked momentarily surprised. Then he shrugged and nodded at John Maxwell. “He had it.”

  “Christ, I know that. You left the bloody room with him. I thought you might have noticed what he did with the firearms.”

  Malky looked uncomfortable. “Naw, I didn’t. I was too busy waiting for the polis to feel my collar.”

  “Would you rather he’d shot you? Christ preserve us! Go and look for it!”

  While Malky sighed and went out into the hall, poking around the mirrored dresser that stood there and checking behind the grandfather clock, Shug’s irate gaze fell on Johnny, who was helping Jack tidy up t
he cards. Johnny glanced up, looked him straight in the eyes.

  “Where’d you put it?” Shug snarled.

  “Beyond use,” said Johnny wryly. “It’s out of the equation. I’m well aware yours isn’t. So tonight we get some sleep, and first thing tomorrow morning, I want you out of my house.”

  Addie’s heart drummed in her breast. Because she was one of them; because he was risking some kind of showdown.

  Shug stared at him. It was a look that had made even violent men shiver, but Johnny held it without obvious difficulty. Does he still not realize what he’s dealing with here?

  “Or what?” Shug said with slow, deliberate contempt.

  “Or I’ll—er—grass you up to the polis. I’ve kept quiet till now, we all have, because I don’t want more trouble in front of my family. I’ll keep to that. But only till the morning. After that, you’re gone.”

  “Or else?” Shug asked incredulously. Fortunately, he seemed more entertained than annoyed by Johnny laying down the law. In fact, it came to Addie that there was something close to respect lurking in Shug’s mean eyes. Not because Johnny was standing up to him—that usually just pissed him off—it had to be because he believed Johnny had done something he hadn’t. Besides playing the piano and passing a few exams at school. He had killed.

  Addie looked away, her stomach twisting more ferociously than ever.

  Oh, fuck. Was that his attraction for her, too? He’d done the unthinkable and got away with it? And still kept a civilized veneer that violent thugs like Shug and Malky would never possess, no matter how trivial their crimes in comparison? And God knew they weren’t so trivial…

  I so need to get out of here…

  ef

  “Are you just going to sit there all night?”

  Addie addressed the kilted ghost and his naked companion who were shimmering against the wall opposite her. Fully dressed—she wasn’t being caught that way again—Addie sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for the sounds of the household to die away.

  If the ghosts answered her, she didn’t hear them.

  Eventually she stood and quietly left the room. Tiredness tugged at her eyes and her dragging feet, but she had to check one more time before she allowed herself to sleep.

  Silently, she glided along the dark passage, listening first outside the room Jim was sleeping in, together with Shug and Malky. One of them was snoring. Shug’s voice said, “Fuck!” in a vicious sort of way. His ankle must have been hurting like hell. Good.

  Satisfied, she moved on to the old lady’s room and Tammy’s. Both were quiet. Though as she reached the end of the corridor and turned to the narrow staircase, a faint sound made her turn and peer back.

  A dark shape stood outside Tammy’s door.

  Addie’s heart lurched with sudden fear, but it was a very human voice which said, “Tammy,” in a stage whisper. Definite fingers tapped on the wooden door. “Tammy!” said the voice again, a bit louder this time.

  Gavin.

  Which could be almost as bad as Julia.

  Please be asleep, please don’t let him in…

  She couldn’t hear whether or not Tammy answered him. But she did hear the squeak as he turned the door handle, and the faint, dull thud as he pushed to no avail. The door was locked.

  Addie held in her sigh of relief until Gavin turned away and went back up the main staircase. Then she moved on up the narrow stair to Jack’s room. A faint light shone down from the spiral staircase that led farther up the turret; maybe moonlight through a cupola or maybe a nightlight for Jack. With her ear to the door, she could make out his faint, even breathing. Jack was asleep.

  Relieved, she turned away. Everyone was knackered. They’d all sleep for a few hours and then she’d be out of here, back to Kate by lunch time, please God. Then she’d find a way to get at least Johnny’s manuscript away from Shug…

  “Addie.”

  The quiet voice made her jump. Her hand flew to her throat in an instinctive gesture of self-protection, and she stared up the spiral stairs toward the voice.

  John Maxwell stood at the inner curve, one hand on the wall, the other held out to her. Even in the dim light, he looked amazing. His wild hair fell in tangles about his lean, shadowed face. He still wore his kilt, although one of the buckles was unfastened as if he’d been undressing when he’d heard her creep up the stairs. And his shirt was off, revealing all of his broad chest and strong, muscular arms. He was temptation incarnate.

  Addie swallowed. “What?”

  “Come here,” he said softly.

  “I was just making sure everyone’s asleep…”

  “I’m not.”

  “I can see that. But I should be if I’ve to drive that heap of junk back to Glasgow tomorrow.”

  “You can sleep here. With me.”

  So this was John Maxwell’s private territory. She should have thought of that. Thinking of it now made her entire body flush.

  She said frankly, “If I come up there with you, I won’t want to sleep.”

  “Good. Neither will I. Come.”

  He stood perfectly still, his hand held steadily down to her. He just had to touch her, take her in his arms, kiss her, and she would be won. They both knew that. But she saw that with some perverse chivalry he wouldn’t touch her this time. The decision was to be hers.

  Addie stared at him. He was everything she had ever wanted and so much more. She didn’t care about his past, she just ached with every fiber of her being to be with him. With him, she’d already tasted the first true passion of her life. She never would and never should see him again. That alone would be so hard to bear now.

  His lips curved slightly, ruefully, as though he knew she was going to refuse him. And yet he didn’t drop his hand, just waited to take his rejection. He had made the most beautiful music and said it was for her, said it was her.

  Without warning, her throat closed. Run for it, Addie, you do not need this…

  She closed her eyes, tried to swallow back the rushing emotion, and when she opened them again, the staircase was empty.

  ef

  Just as well, John Maxwell thought ruefully, kicking the mess out of his way as he moved across his bedroom. He hadn’t exactly cleaned up for visitors. But he’d been fighting the urge to go to her all evening, show those two randy ghosts who skulked in her bedroom how to go about making love to her so she’d remember. He needed the release of tension; he wanted her uninhibited passion, her beautiful, willing little body crushed under him, moaning her delight as he fucked her. As if in orgasm they could lose the confusion of everything that surrounded them. As if in this room nothing else but they had to exist, not the past and certainly not the future.

  Making love to her wouldn’t have messed up his plan. Making love to her would just have brought a little light into his world.

  Shit. Be honest, Maxwell. A lot of light. She shines like the sun.

  Abruptly, he sat down on the bed, burying his face and a hundred memories in his hands. Like the music in his head, the strands of his life seemed to tangle around him with no possible resolution.

  Something stirred in the doorway. Johnny dropped his hands and lifted his gaze to Ariadne McSween. In the lamplight, her skin looked white, her eyes huge and scared yet breathtakingly warm, like hot pools among the ice.

  “Tonight,” she whispered. “Just tonight, I can pretend, and then I’ll forget you.”

  “Don’t forget.” He was on his feet, striding the space between them. He took her beautiful, shining face in his hands, and she clung to him like her only salvation. She was his thread, his way back to the light. “Don’t dare forget.”

  And he sank his mouth into hers like a man determined to drown. Or to live.

  Chapter Twelve

  He removed her clothes slowly, one by one, and as each garment fell to the floor to join his kilt, his eyes darkened further, till she could see only the tiny dancing lights of desire like flames. Fascinated, she concentrated on those, for standing naked
to his gaze—his gaze—was too difficult, too exciting, too terrifying. The brief liaisons of her past had left her with no confidence in her beauty or her powers of seduction. And yet he seemed determined to look.

  And so, more from defiance than anything else, she let her own gaze drop to his wide shoulders and his broad, inviting chest with its light dusting of black, curling hair. He may have played the piano for a living, but he had the physique of a man who lived outdoors: thickly muscled arms, flat, hard stomach, narrow hips that she wanted to reach out and touch. And between his long, strong legs, his cock rose huge and erect.

  “For me?” she asked before she could stop herself, and a breath of laughter escaped his lips.

  “All for you.”

  He even gift-wrapped it, without inhibition or embarrassment rolling a condom over it as she watched. Tentatively, she reached out and touched him. Not his cock, not yet, but his hips, sliding her hands over his warm skin and stepping closer to reach around to his firm, round buttocks. His muscles rippled and undulated to her touch, making her smile.

  He brought his mouth down on hers, seeking and receiving her response before he laid his hands on her. Mirroring her exploration, he caressed her hips, cupping her bottom to draw her inexorably against him. His cock throbbed against her abdomen, hot and exciting, increasing her sense of anticipation to boiling point.

  Without breaking the contact of his lips or his hands, he lifted her in his arms and she wrapped her legs around him. At the touch of his cock against her clitoris, she gasped into his mouth, letting the pleasure race through every nerve in her body. He laid her gently down on the bed. He came with her, settling between her legs, taking his weight on his elbows. Then, breaking the long kiss at last, he smiled and stroked her hair before beginning a more intimate exploration with his mouth.

  When he got to her nipples, the pleasure was so astounding that she actually bucked beneath him, thrusting upward into his crotch. She didn’t recognize the noises escaping from her—small, animal moans of lust and need, bliss and frustration. But this time, he would not be hurried, and gradually, she came to appreciate the slow, intense build-up of pleasure that came just from his caresses, just from her exploration of him. She even managed to get him to roll over, so that after she had stroked every inch of his long, rippling back and taut buttocks and hips, she could learn the exciting bits at the front, too.