“I warned you not to let them get started on wiring. Now they’ll never finish,” Jamee murmured.
The four were deep in conversation when the door opened again. The fire hissed and popped cheerfully as Duncan MacKinnon shrugged out of a snow-dusted parka and then took his wife’s snug sheepskin coat. “Wiring?” he announced. “What kind of talk is that for a freezing winter day?”
Ian chuckled and went to greet his friends. “I take it you’d prefer to discuss fine aged whiskey?”
“Do I really need to answer that?”
“Don’t listen to him,” Kara said. “It’s lovely outside and not a bit unpleasant. Ours were the first tracks leading up here through the snow, and I almost felt as if we were heading back through time.”
Jamee kissed Kara, then Duncan. “I know what you mean.” She shot a look at Ian. “This place is almost frighteningly inspiring. If I finish any more weavings, Ian won’t have any place to hang them.”
Her husband smiled slowly. “Actually, that won’t be a problem. I found out earlier today that four have already been ordered for Balmoral.”
“Balmoral?” Jamee blinked. “As in—”
“As in the royal residence. Unless you’d prefer not to sell, of course.” His eyes twinkled. “You would have one very disappointed lady in that case.”
“Of course I’ll sell them. Balmoral?” she repeated. “This isn’t a joke?”
“No more than this.” Ian looked at the gathered company. He had walked head-on into a full-blown family, noisy and contentious, and he was enjoying every second of the experience. Never in his lifetime had the castle rung with such laughter and genial quarreling.
Glenlyle’s ghosts seemed very far away as he held out a gaily wrapped box to Jamee. “I wanted to give this to you while everyone was here, since they were all involved in bringing about our happy ending.” His eyes gleamed. “For you, my love.”
“Ian, you shouldn’t have. I’m spoiled already.”
“You’ll have one gift for all the twelve days of Christmas. It’s a new ritual here, I warn you.”
Jamee pulled off the foil paper, then went very still. “Ian, do you realize what this is?”
“I believe so. Go ahead, take it out,” he urged.
Very carefully Jamee removed a carved piece of wood hollowed in the center and pointed at one end. The shuttle was beautifully made, shaped to fit a woman’s hand. “Look at the detail,” she said. “Whoever used this must have had tiny fingers.” She cupped the smooth wood lovingly. “This looks as if it could be two hundred years old.”
“Rather more than that, I suspect. I found it up in the attic last week.”
Jamee held up the hand-carved tool. The fine grain of the wood was polished smooth by centuries of pressure against threads of rough wool. Just below the pointed end, three interlinking lines had been carved into the shuttle. Jamee touched them thoughtfully. “What are these?”
“Some kind of identifying marks of the weaver,” Ian suggested.
“Or something else,” Kara said softly. “May I?” When Jamee passed her the old tool, Kara’s fingers moved slowly over the surface. She stared at the tapestry on the far wall. “She made that very weaving with this.” Her voice was low, jerky. “I can feel her sitting in a cottage. There are pots of boiling dye and peat smoke in the air. She sang as she worked.”
“Kara, I’m not sure you should be doing this,” Duncan said. “I don’t want you taking any chances right now.”
She went on as if he had not spoken. “The three marks represent the three prayers she worked into every cloth. Three unbroken lines that crossed over themselves, always connecting in the end. They were vows. Three vows.” Her eyes dimmed and she swayed slightly. “For now. For tomorrow.”
“And for all eternity,” Jamee finished softly. “You saw her. It was Maire MacKinnon, wasn’t it? This was her shuttle.”
Kara took a sudden, sharp breath and leaned against her husband. “Don’t fret, Duncan, I’m fine. And yes, this did belong to Maire. She was very much in love. Her small cottage held a lifetime of laughter and joy.” She shook her head, pulling away from a world of shadowy visions, and then handed the shuttle back to Jamee. “Use it well. Her skill and joy go with it to you.”
Silence filled the room, and with it came the sense of others pressing close. Unseen, unheard, their love still slid around the corners and tugged at the hearts of the friends and family gathered in Glenlyle’s warm library. It seemed that at any moment, the door might open again to admit a pair of lovers who had died centuries before.
When a log collapsed in the grate with an explosion of sparks, the mood was broken. Ian refilled Duncan’s glass, then sat down before the fire with Jamee close beside him. “Did you ever find that first edition of Dickens you were looking for, Duncan?”
“Afraid not. We’ve turned the library at Dunraven upside down. I can’t imagine what’s happened to it.” He savored his drink, frowning. “I was hoping I might have brought it up here with that bunch of naval engravings I gave you last year for your birthday.”
“It might be there,” Ian said. “I haven’t yet framed them. The box was right behind my desk, I believe.”
“Will you two forget about books and maps for once?” Kara said sternly. “It’s Christmas, remember? I want to see the kilt Jamee wove for the newest Glenlyle bear.”
“It’s hanging there near the top of the tree.” Ian pointed to a bear with dark-brown fur, formal jacket and a vibrant kilt of McCall plaid, deep blue and red set off by faint lines of white. “She’s going to make one just like it for me.” He turned and looked at his new wife proudly.
“Did you hear that? It sounded almost like whistling or someone singing off-key,” Kara said.
Jamee stiffened. “Off-key?”
“Some popular song from the sixties. I can’t remember the artist.”
Adam’s eyes narrowed as he stood by the far window. “It wasn’t Neil Diamond by any chance?”
Kara sat very still, eyes narrowed as she focused on the elusive thread of sound. “It could be. Sorry, but I can’t recognize the tune.”
Adam walked slowly to the back of the room where shadows clung to the thick stone walls. His face was unreadable as he, too, stood listening for confirmation of a strange feeling he had had for weeks now.
It was almost as if his dead brother, Terence, were nearby, watching over them, whistling his off-key songs as he always had.
“Do you hear it, Adam?” Jamee asked tensely. “Is it…Terence?”
Adam studied the shifting shadows, reaching out for a sign of his brother’s presence. The fire left patterns on the wall, rippling like a river of light, ever restless—ever beyond containing.
Despite Adam’s concentration, there was nothing in the dark corners but hopes that would not die and dreams that were just beginning to flower. He was too honest to describe things he didn’t see.
So he turned, straightening his shoulders. “I don’t hear anything. But it doesn’t matter. Some things live in our minds even when we can’t see or hear them.” He moved back into the warmth of the fire and the softly gleaming lights, near the people he loved. “Bennett will be arriving tomorrow. He apologized that his physical therapy has taken so long and he asked me to make a toast for him.” Adam raised his glass, watching light bounce off the etched crystal. “A merry Christmas and good health. May all your dreams have wings.”
Jamee discreetly brushed away a tear as she clinked her glass with Ian’s. Light seemed to fill the room as the fire burst high, crackling cheerfully. The wordless warmth of Christmas found a home in each person’s heart in that moment. Like glowing embers, the feeling would stay, burning softly, warming the cold days until Christmas came to them once again.
“VERY NICE. Very nice indeed.” Resplendent in his finest black satin, Adrian Draycott surveyed the group ranged around the fire. “It almost makes my exhausting labors here worthwhile.” He smoothed the lace at one cuff and studied the
room critically. “The rug is adequate, I suppose, though an eighteenth-century Peking would have been nicer. The tree is also passable, though I fail to see the attraction of all these bears. They are quite appallingly maudlin.”
Gold satin shimmered at his side as Gray Mackenzie materialized to stroke his cheek. “Perhaps they are meant to be maudlin, my love. It can be very pleasant to feel sentimental and weepy this time of year.”
“Hmm.” Adrian sniffed. “What I feel is tired. Do you know how hard I’ve worked in the last few hours keeping an eye over the festivities at Draycott Abbey, then tearing myself away to come up here?”
“Why did you come?” the woman he loved asked curiously. “I know you don’t like Scotland above half.”
Adrian cleared his throat. “Gideon and I had a minor point of business to finish. It’s nothing important. You might as well make your way back to Draycott Abbey while we complete our little odds and ends.”
A frown worked between her brows. “What is it that you aren’t telling me?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all.” Adrian decided that attack was sometimes the best defense. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed how much time you’ve been spending in the conservatory these last few days. What have you got hidden out there?”
“Nothing important,” she answered, repeating his own evasion. She would not tell him of the three antique rose plants that awaited him in the abbey’s conservatory. Their petals were peach touched with tiny streaks of red, and their fragrance blended notes of cinnamon and oranges. But Gray had no intention of revealing her present to Adrian until she was entirely ready.
And that meant when Adrian finished his own mission, whatever it was. “It seemed to be the time of year for both of us to keep secrets.” She smiled faintly. “I imagine I could work them out of you.”
Adrian threw up one hand in surrender. “Without any earthly doubt you could. But don’t, my love. It would spoil everything.” At his feet a gray shape materialized, long tail flicking back and forth. “Don’t you agree, Gideon?”
The cat meowed softly.
“You see? Even Gideon suggests you take yourself back to Draycott and wait for us there. The noisy visitors have all gone now, and you can enjoy the tree in silence for once.”
Gray tilted her head. “Only since things are done here. Yes, I think they will be very happy now that their three wishes have finally been granted.” Her golden gown began to shimmer, then inch by inch faded away until only a handful of light sparkled in the still air.
“Godspeed, my love,” Adrian whispered.
At his feet Gideon meowed softly.
“Thank you, my friend. Now then, let’s find that book of Dunraven’s and be off.” He strode toward the great desk and searched for the box that Duncan had described. After a moment, his boot met a heavy object. “I think I’ve found it, Gideon. Help me with these, will you?”
None of the people by the fire saw a dozen naval engravings rise silently into the air, carried by invisible fingers. One by one the old designs tilted, then drifted down to the carpet.
“Nothing yet. Blast, I hope they didn’t move the book.”
Gideon brushed against Adrian’s boot, then put one paw gingerly into the deep box. A length of heavy silk slowly unrolled into the air, danced in unseen currents, then cascaded in a flow of color onto the floor.
“Well done, Gideon. You’ve found something beneath?”
As the cat stared unblinking into the box, a heavy volume of brown leather floated into the air. Firelight glinted off deeply embossed letters highlighted in gold. Suspended above the desk, the cover opened, yellowed pages riffled by invisible fingers.
“By heaven, you’ve done it. It’s a first edition, all right. That fellow Dickens even signed the thing. Gray will be delirious.”
Gideon’s ears pricked forward.
“Stealing? I don’t believe I would use that word. Not entirely.” Adrian rubbed his jaw, staring through the window where snow danced in the bright, clear air. “Let’s just say it will be a loan in exchange for services rendered.” He looked down at Gideon and smiled. “For how long? Several centuries should do, I imagine.”
The book closed with a snap and then floated up under his arm. “Now, I believe we should go. I don’t want to keep Gray waiting.”
He turned to find a tall man seated on the desk. Flecks of color glinted around his head and hands as he clicked his tongue at Adrian.
“I suppose I should try to stop you from stealing that thing,” Terence Night said.
“Not stealing, borrowing.”
“Oh, is that what you call it?”
“Of course. I’ll return it.” Adrian smoothed his lace jabot. “Eventually.”
“I won’t try to stop you. I owe you too much for sending Gideon along to help me. We make a good team, don’t we, my friend?” As Terence eased a hand over the cat’s warm fur, he smiled. “At least this is one project I didn’t bumble. I have to thank you both for that.” He looked off at his sister, whose head rested against Ian’s shoulder. “They look very happy, don’t they?”
“And why shouldn’t they look happy? We’ve just saved them from a very nasty fate. Matchmaking can be quite enjoyable, I’ve discovered.” As Gideon meowed, Adrian cleared his throat. “Well, I did do my share, blast it. I’m the one who sent you up here, after all. The whole business was damnably fatiguing, too.”
Terence smiled, and the movement sent light rippling over the desk. “You were key to our success. I’m sure your beautiful Gray will love the Dickens. As a loan,” he emphasized.
“Of course, of course.” Adrian waved one hand. “Whatever you say.” He moved toward the wall, then turned back to look at Terence. “Where are you off to now? I suppose if you have nothing better to do, you might come back to Draycott with us.”
“It is very kind of you, but no. I think I have finally gotten the hang of this guardian thing, and I’d better keep in practice.” Terence studied the tall man standing beside the fire. “Adam works too hard. I’m going to have to do something about that. And William needs something new in his life. Or someone,” he said thoughtfully.
Adrian nodded. “You’ll do very well at the job, I think. But remember my offer should you ever need a little company.”
“I won’t forget. It will be a pleasure to visit the abbey again one day when my work is finished.” He watched Adrian’s hand rise in farewell, then slowly fade as his form retreated into the heavy stone wall, with Gideon at his side.
Terence Night sat back on the desk, tapping his toe as he whistled an off-key tune. Jamee was rising, her hand in Ian’s. A smile softened Terence’s face as he picked the thoughts from his sister’s mind.
Yes, it would be a very, very fine Christmas at Glenlyle.
“YOU’LL EXCUSE US for a little while, won’t you? I have a gift to give my dashing husband.” Jamee took Ian’s hand and pulled him to his feet. “I have to try to top that beautiful shuttle he gave me.”
“Jamee, there is no reason for you to—”
“Come on, McCall,” she ordered, laughing as she tugged Ian toward the door. “Why is it so hard to get you to accept a present?”
“I said you would be henpecked,” William called helpfully as he finished off the last of his fudge. “We’ve had to deal with her for years. Now it’s your turn.”
Ian’s eyes darkened as he caught Jamee’s waist. “A punishment I think I will savor for seventy or eighty years.”
“Romance,” William said in disgust. “Give me a good set of electrical circuits any day.”
Ian followed Jamee outside into the hall and up the granite steps. “Where are you taking me?”
“To the master bedroom.” Her lips curved. “Of course.”
“In the middle of the afternoon?”
“I’ve got everything set up. I think the Widow Campbell has finished her part by now.”
Ian’s brow rose. “What did she have to do with this project of yours?”
&
nbsp; “Just wait and see.” Jamee tugged him down the hall and threw open the door to their bedroom.
Candles gleamed on the rosewood dresser and on the windowsills, their glow refracted in the long mirror opposite the door. Bears in kilts and capes and cowboy hats lay scattered over the bed and seated in every chair.
“Widow Campbell helped me,” she explained. “We found all the old bears in the village and collected one of each kind. You need to begin some sort of a museum here, Ian, something that will document the designs over the years. And I thought you might like to have them all around you while I…”
“While you what?” Ian sat on the bed, moved aside three bears in full fighting regalia and drew Jamee down onto his lap.
“Thank you for the miracle I’ve been given,” she said fiercely.
“What miracle?”
“You. The way you make me feel. All the things you inspire me to do. Even if I live a century, I don’t think I’ll finish half the projects I have in mind.” Tears streaked her face, but Jamee continued, oblivious. “And in case you haven’t noticed, there are a whole lot of people here who feel just the same way about you, Lord Glenlyle. You are brave and stubborn and very much a hero to them.”
“I’m no hero.”
“Most of the people in Glenlyle would argue about that. I know that I would.” Jamee slid her hands over his shoulders. “By the way, did I mention that you tear my breath away every time I look at you?”
“Every time?”
“Afraid so.”
Slowly, Ian eased her against him. “Like this?”
Their bodies met. Jamee felt his growing arousal. “You bet.”
“Funny, you do the same thing to me.”
“Oh, yeah?” Her fingers caught his sporran and sent it flying. In one jerky movement, she freed the buckle of his kilt. “Maybe you’d better prove that.” She caught his lips with hers, nuzzled slowly. “After all, we don’t have a lot of time.”
“Umm. Why is that?”
“My disgraceful brothers will come looking for us.” Her fingers found his rigid heat and circled him slowly. “And here we would be.” She smiled wickedly as the velvet gown slid from her shoulders. “How very incriminating.”
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