Men of Midnight Complete Collection

by Emilie Richards

  “And now you do.” He dropped the towel at his feet and reached out to slide his hands down her arms. He took her hands in his and pulled her closer. “I believe she’s shy, so very shy that she only comes out when she thinks that no one will be watching. I suspect she was more surprised to see the Gordon brothers than they were to see her. I believe she waits until no one is there before she rises high above the waves and glides along their ridges. She has a need to see the world around her—even, perhaps, to experience it a bit. But she’s so frightened of what might happen to her….”

  “I can understand that. The world wouldn’t accept her. She probably knows that. She would frighten everyone who saw her.”

  “No’ everyone. Those who love her would find her beautiful.”

  She was hopelessly mesmerized again, but this time by the spark kindling in his hazel eyes. “Would they?” she whispered.

  “Aye.” He sighed as he pulled her closer. “Aye. Very beautiful.” His arms closed around her.

  Fiona lifted her face to his. She wasn’t surprised that he was going to kiss her. His happiness was unrestrained and undeniable. She could almost taste his joy and feel his exuberance in the way that he held her. The wet folds of his clothing clung to her as he drew her still closer, but the warmth of his body seemed to seep into her own.

  His hands traveled slowly up her back, along her spine and shoulders to the nape of her neck. There were scars there, hidden from the eye, but he brushed past them to bury his hands in her hair. He tilted her head and lowered his mouth to hers. There was nothing comforting about this kiss, and nothing brotherly. His lips were demanding, and hers opened like the petals of a flower at morning’s first light.

  She clung to him, too astonished and too suffused with emotion to examine what was happening. His tongue teased her lips, tracing, moistening, dancing with soft velvet strokes. She responded with more hesitation than confidence. His hands dove deeper into her hair, as if the feel of it gave him pleasure. She sighed, and immediately she could feel his smile against her lips. He delved deeper, and his tongue explored with gentle, constant pressure.

  Her legs seemed to grow weaker in proportion to the strength of her response. She clutched his shirt with trembling hands and held it like a lifeline. Desire bloomed inside her, a persistent, flowering yearning that swamped all other sensations. She wanted to touch him, to explore him with her hands, to feel the hard breadth of his chest, the wide span of his shoulders.

  As if he knew, he lifted his head, and his eyes promised that he would not draw away if she did touch him. But her courage was gone by then, used up in the heat of that one, breathtaking, staggering kiss.

  With his gaze still fixed on her face, he swept his hands over her back and finally slid them to her hips to rest there while his thumbs gently massaged her abdomen. He leaned forward again and kissed her once on each side of her mouth, swift, sweet kisses. He kissed her nose, as he had in his car, and then her eyelids.

  “There are some people who, if they knew my darling, would find her the most beautiful creature in the world,” he said softly.

  He covered her hands and brought them to his lips to kiss each palm and seal her fingers over the kiss. Then he was gone, and the only sound in Fiona’s apartment was the beating of her own heart.

  CHAPTER 7

  Fearnshader, Iain’s family home, was a child’s most cherished dream or terrifying nightmare—depending on the strength and direction of the child’s imagination. Gargoyles loomed from parapets, and the castellated towers defining the corners held delicious promises of vampire bats and hideous cloaked phantoms.

  The drive to Fearnshader from Druidheachd was pastoral and pleasant, along a rambling Scottish wynd that bordered Loch Ceo. Only when the hulking remains of ancient Ceo Castle came into view did the mood change and the turbulent history of the Highlands assert itself. Just off the loch road and past the castle, Fearnshader lent its splendidly gloomy presence to the landscape.

  “Fearnshader means ‘place of alders,’” Duncan told Fiona as he parked the hotel minibus beside a gatehouse at the edge of Fearnshader’s vast front garden. “The alder grove between here and Ceo Castle is probably as old as the castle itself, much older than the house—which has to be older than any structure in the state of New York.”

  From the back seat Fiona looked out the window, content for the moment just to take in the sight of the huge manor home. “So I came here as a little girl?”

  “You came here with me at least once. Lady Mary, Iain’s mother, was fascinated with you. She made me bring you, and you and she had a tea party.”

  “I don’t remember her at all, but I still have a doll that she sent me when I was in the hospital in New York, a very old and valuable doll. I think it was hers as a child.” Fiona continued to stare out at Fearnshader. “That wasn’t long before she died, I guess. Everything changed so quickly, didn’t it?”

  “Everything except Fearnshader. And Billie’s changing that now.”

  Mara, who was sitting beside her husband, clucked her disapproval. “Billie is just refining what’s already there. If Lady Mary was alive, she would be delighted that someone loved the house again and wanted to make it a home.”

  “Are you chastising me?” Duncan leaned over and kissed her. “I’m sure I’ll love what Billie’s doing. Just as soon as I get used to it.”

  “Your brother believes he’s a thoroughly modern man. But he has no tolerance for any change that affects his boyhood memories,” Mara told Fiona with a wink.

  Duncan defended himself. “I’ve told Iain more than once that he needed to throw out half of what was here. And if I recall, you’re the one who wouldn’t let me paint the hotel white.”

  “Duncan, you wouldn’t have!” Fiona was shocked.

  “No, he would no’ have,” Mara agreed, “because it would have been the end of our marriage. But he threatened it all through the winter.”

  “There was no light for months. I came very close to painting the whole place egg yolk yellow with murals of palm trees and flamingos.” Duncan got out of the car and came around to open doors.

  Fiona was enchanted by the walkway. Peonies poked their scarlet spears through the newly cultivated earth that bordered the cobblestones, and shrub roses sporting spring’s verdant first growth preened in the translucent light of a Scottish gloaming. She took her time, lingering to admire everything.

  “In another month or so, the walk to the door will be a sensory feast,” Duncan said. “The earliest roses will be blooming, and the peonies are nearly as fragrant. Billie promises that this is one thing she’ll never change.”

  Billie was waiting for them at the front door. She had insisted that she was going to do the cooking for her first dinner party herself, and she had obviously stuck to her word. She balanced a bunch of fresh basil and three garlic bulbs in one hand and held the door wide with the other. “I’m so glad you’re here. Somebody needs to entertain Andrew. He insists on helping in the kitchen, and the man’s a menace.”

  “Do you need help?” Mara asked.

  “Yours, sure. His?” She shook her head, and her short dark hair fanned out in spikes. “He claims to cook by taste alone. He’s eating more than he’s cooking. There’ll be nothing left to serve if we don’t get him out of there.”

  “Where’s Lord Iain during all this?” Duncan asked.

  “Fixing a pipe in the master bath. I know it’s unlordly or something. He’s supposed to be posing by the fireplace in very old tweeds, but if he doesn’t stop the leak, the dining room ceiling might cave in during dinner. I’d hate to do that to you. Most of the staff is off on holiday, so there’s no one to lend a hand.”

  “Duncan can help him, and I’ll help you.” Mara turned to Fiona. “Can you entertain Andrew?”

  Fiona hadn’t seen Andrew in a week, not since the day his darling had been spotted in the loch. She looked at Duncan, whose eyes were shuttered, but he didn’t attempt to object. Whatever his feelings, he
was trying not to be overprotective. “I suppose I can. If he’s had enough to eat to hold him until dinner.”

  “The man has devoured half the contents of my cupboards,” Billie said.

  “That might no’ do it,” Mara said, “but you’d better give it a try, Fiona.”

  Fiona and Mara followed Billie through the expansive hallways, while Duncan took the stairs to find Iain. Fiona was fascinated by every room they passed. “This is incredible. Could I have a tour sometime?”

  Billie shot her a grin. “That’s a terrific idea. Get Andrew to give you one. Just don’t let him show you the kitchen.”

  “You wouldn’t mind if we prowled around?”

  “Mind? You’re family, aren’t you? Besides, Andrew knows as much or more about the house than I do. He practically grew up here. And he won’t be likely to start moving furniture at every stop.”

  “How is the renovation going?” Mara asked.

  “It’s great fun. I make a pile of things that I think we need to get rid of, Iain comes along and gives me a history of every piece and what it means to him, and eventually we’re right back where we started.”

  “Slowly, in other words.”

  “Slowly and carefully. But we’re moving in the right direction. Some of the rooms are actually comfortable. I’d say by summer’s end, the parts of the house that we use will be really livable.”

  Fiona was lost already. They had only made two turns, but she was sorry she hadn’t dropped bread crumbs behind her. They made one more, to a short hallway that led through an imposing wooden door temporarily propped open by a crate filled with canned goods.

  “Andrew, real help’s arrived. You’re banished until dinnertime,” Billie said.

  Andrew turned. His gaze went directly to Fiona. He greeted her, then Mara, but he didn’t move toward them. “You’re certain? I’ve only begun chopping the tomatoes.”

  “Good, then some should still be left for the table.” Billie cheerfully shooed him toward Fiona. “I’ve promised Fiona you’ll show her the house. That should take an hour or two. Maybe that will give Iain time to figure out how to turn off the water. Duncan’s on his way up there.”

  “I told you I could help him.”

  “When you arrived he was still playing Master of All He Surveys, and he would have been furious if I had sent you up. By now he should be ready for reinforcements. Desperate, in fact.”

  “You have a poor opinion of men.”

  She kissed his cheek. “I have a realistic opinion of my husband’s strengths and weaknesses. Go have fun.”

  As he passed, he hugged Mara’s shoulders and asked about April. Then he faced Fiona. “There’s still enough light to see the gardens. Would you like to start there?”

  A week had passed, and she had spent too much of it wondering exactly why Andrew had kissed her. In her imagination she had conjured a reunion scene filled with intimacy and subtle innuendo. Instead Andrew was looking at her as if she were a stranger.

  She told herself that she should have expected this. The kiss had been exuberance, an adrenaline high, and afterward he had obviously regretted it. Now it would be her job to be pleasant while pretending the kiss hadn’t meant anything to her, either. She steeled herself and found a smile. “Sure. I’ve already admired the gardens in the front.”

  He ushered her back through the doorway and into the hall. In silence they took a different set of turns until they were on a wide stone terrace that overlooked acres of what had obviously once been formal gardens. “It was very different when we were lads,” Andrew said. “These were Lady Mary’s pride and joy. She had a large staff of gardeners, but she did much of the work herself and all the supervision.”

  Fiona walked to the terrace edge and leaned against the sculpted railing. The night was surprisingly warm, and a gentle breeze caressed her cheeks. “There were roses.”

  “Aye. Did Duncan tell you that?”

  “I don’t think so. I think I remember them.”

  “You were far too wee to remember.”

  “You’re right, I was. But I remember them anyway. That must have been where we had our tea party.”

  “Tea party?”

  “Duncan tells me Lady Mary invited me for a tea party. I don’t remember that. But I remember this view, I think. And roses. Not along the walkway out front. Dozens of bushes. Hundreds, maybe.”

  “Hundreds, aye. Behind the boxwoods to the left. They were her passion. Iain intends to restore the rose garden in her memory. Some of the roses are still there. The old ones can survive neglect. But the hybrids are all gone. They’ll have to be replaced.” He joined her at the railing, but he stood several feet away. “You can see the overall design from here if you use your imagination. The boxwoods outline the different areas. There’s a wee reflecting pool and fountain beyond that stand of birches. That was the silent garden, and we were only allowed there if we agreed to be silent, which was seldom.”

  Fiona turned so that she could see him. The view was exceptional. He wore a dark tweed jacket and faded jeans that had long ago molded themselves perfectly to his long legs. “I can imagine the three of you playing here, romping in and out of the boxwoods. Climbing trees, trampling flower beds.”

  “Lord Ross planted a maze for us just beyond the roses. A very intricate and complicated one. I think he rather hoped we would never find our way out.”

  She laughed. “Obviously you did.”

  “Boxwoods grow slowly, and only now are they above eye level. I suppose it was really a maze meant for our children.”

  “I bet April loves it.”

  “Aye. And Mara and Duncan will have more children. Iain and Billie will have their own, as well.”

  “And you, of course. You’ll certainly be a father someday.”

  “I’ve no thought of settling down.”

  She heard his message loudly, although he hadn’t raised his voice. “Well, you would have to settle down to be a father,” she said lightly. “I suppose that’s going to make it tough.”

  “I can no’ imagine having the life of a child in my hands, having to shape and mold it.” He shook his head. “I have none of the qualities a man needs for that.”

  “You’d be a fantastic father. The very best kind.”

  “You dinna really know me, Fiona.”

  There was little she could say to that. From the tone of his voice she guessed that she wasn’t going to be allowed to get to know him any better, either. “Maybe I don’t know everything,” she said at last, “but I’ve watched you with April and Sara.”

  “It’s easy to love a child, and the most difficult task in the world to be a good parent.” He moved away from the rail and turned to her. “If there was enough light we could walk along the pathways, and I could show you what’s left of the gardens and what Iain intends to do with the remainder. But that will have to wait. We’ll have a look at the inside instead.”

  He was standing close to her, but he was a thousand miles away. Fiona had hoped that if she was determinedly casual, Andrew would realize that she hadn’t overreacted to his kiss. Now she saw that something more overt was going to be required. “Andrew.” She put her hand on his arm to stop him from moving away. “You don’t have to show me anything, you know. And you have nothing to be embarrassed about, either.” She was completely unused to expressing her feelings out loud. She could feel her cheeks heating from the effort.

  “Embarrassed?”

  She dropped her hand. “I know you regret what happened the last time you saw me. Please, don’t worry about it. I understand why you kissed me. You were excited because your darling had been spotted. I know it had very little to do with me.”

  He stared at her for a moment. “Well, at least you did no’ say it had nowt to do with you. At least you give yourself credit for having the tiniest bit to do with it.”

  Anger flashed through her, and she hardly recognized it. She had seldom been angry. What could anger have changed? “Look, we aren’t discuss
ing my self-esteem. We’re discussing you. But if your feelings are off-limits…” She turned and started toward the house.

  “Fiona.” This time he stopped her. “I am no’ embarrassed. Can you really believe I am?”

  “You’re acting like a stranger, which is your perfect right, of course. I just thought you might regret kissing me and—”

  “I did no’ regret it!”

  She faced him. “Good.”

  “It was no’ a good idea!”

  “Then let’s forget it and get on with being friends.”

  “Fiona, it was no’ a good idea because I want to do it again.”

  She was stunned. She had expected anything except this. “Why? It’s not an addiction. If you do it again, you’re in no real danger of becoming hooked.”

  “Dinna you think so?” He stepped closer. “I doubt I have the power to resist anything I want badly enough.”

  She was mesmerized by the seductive flicker in his eyes. “Let’s just assume that’s true. Exactly why would you have to resist?” Her voice sounded shaky and unfamiliar to her own ears.

  The door to the terrace opened, and Iain poked his head through it. “Bloody hell, Andrew. I’ve got water gushing faster than I can mop it up. Can you lend a hand? Duncan has no more idea what to do with the bloody blasted pipe than I do.”

  “Of course,” Andrew said without taking his eyes off Fiona.

  “I’m sorry, Fiona,” Iain apologized. “I promise I’ll give you a tour myself another time. Unless it’s all under water.”

  “Go ahead,” Fiona told Andrew. For just a moment his expression was a mixture of relief and regret. Or maybe she only imagined there was anything there at all. Just as she had imagined that she saw desire in his eyes when he talked about kissing her again.

  * * *

  Dinner was poached salmon with a sauce of fresh herbs from Fearnshader’s conservatory and a salad from the same source. There had been enough spectacular side dishes to have everyone groaning with pleasure well before Billie served a dark chocolate torte. The groans grew louder, but no one turned down a generous slice.