King of the Castle

by Heather Graham

  “No, Kit. Just a black cloak,” Liam sighed. “Well, we can try fer fingerprints agin.”

  “Did you—did you find any on the doll?” she asked, hope rising within her.

  “No,” Barney said in disgust. “It were wiped clean, and the stone, too.”

  Suddenly feeling sick, she swallowed, certain they wouldn’t find any prints here, either.

  “Don’t look so upset, Kit,” Justin murmured to her. “There might be a hair on it, or something else they can check.”

  Liam’s eyes brightened. “Aye, someone running in the woods might well have stripped off the cloak quickly, and perhaps a hair clung to it. We’ll see, now; we’ll see.”

  “I’d best be gettin’ back,” Barney murmured. He looked at Justin for a moment then turned his gaze to Kit. “You all right now?”

  She nodded. She really did feel better. At least she wasn’t losing her mind. The cloak existed, and that meant someone was trying to frighten her.

  “Wait!” she said suddenly. “It isn’t old, is it?”

  Liam, carefully picking up the material with a long stick, gazed at her curiously. He shook his head. “Looks like satin, new and shiny.”

  “Why?” Barney asked her.

  “Oh…I don’t know.”

  Barney shifted from one foot to the other. “Now, you don’t really believe that some ancient god is comin’ back now, eh?”

  “Barney!” She shook her head. “I was just thinking that—”

  “Someone does believe in the legend,” Justin provided.

  She shrugged. She didn’t know what to think anymore.

  “I’ll take this in,” Liam said, and he, too, looked from Justin to Kit. “You’re all right?”

  “I’m fine. I’m angry, actually. I don’t like being frightened.”

  Barney, Liam and the offending cloak started back through the trees. Justin and Kit, by some mutual agreement, waited until they had gone. Kit looked around and shivered suddenly. The forest was so dense. She would take care not to be here alone again. Suddenly her legs wouldn’t hold her any longer, and she sat down on the stone behind which Barney had found the cloak.

  “Kit?”

  She hadn’t realized that she had been sitting in troubled silence until she looked up to find Justin’s dark, pensive eyes on her.

  “What?”

  “I’m not trying to make you angry,” he said softly. “But if you still insist on staying, I think you should come to the castle. If I have to be gone, Molly is usually about.”

  “Justin, I really am here to work.”

  “You can work at the castle.”

  “But…”

  “But what?” She could see that, though he was trying not to, he was becoming annoyed. She lowered her head and smiled. This was the Justin she knew—and loved. And though she was determined to hold her own against him, she wondered if she wasn’t wrong to attack his behavior. His self-confidence, his assurance, even his quick temper, were among the very things that she loved about him.

  “But what, Katherine McHennessy?”

  “Justin!” She sighed softly. “Justin, you’re forgetting your own home. This is a very Catholic area, and the townspeople—”

  “The townspeople here are no different than any others. Some will talk; some will be sensible, and think that you’re a bright young lady to take care.”

  “Justin…”

  “Are you worried for me, Kit? Or for yourself?”

  “For both of us. For Mike.”

  He hesitated. “I’m thinking of Mike.”

  Startled, she met his eyes. “But Mike isn’t in any danger! He’s the—”

  “The what?”

  She lowered her eyes again. “He’s the O’Niall.”

  “He’s a little boy. Little boys can get into trouble—especially if they find themselves in a situation where they feel they need to protect their mothers.”

  “Justin, listen—”

  “No, you listen, Kit. Things seem to be closing in on you. First the doll, now this.”

  “Someone is trying to frighten me.”

  “And what if it goes further than that?”

  “I keep the doors locked—”

  “And you wound up alone here in the forest anyway, the stupidest thing you could possibly have done.”

  “Damn you, Justin! And you want me to move in with you?”

  “It’s the only sensible thing to do.”

  “I…can’t.”

  He stared at her for a long moment, then turned and stood with his back to her, his stance stiff and furious.

  “Justin!”

  There was a note of panic in her voice, and he turned quickly, reaching out a hand to her. She rose and took it, then met his eyes, and they kept walking.

  She didn’t know where they were heading, but in a matter of minutes they had come out on the road that led to the cottage. She wasn’t at all surprised when he slipped his own key into the door, then shoved it open and allowed her to walk in first. She went straight to the living room and sat down. The hearth was filled with ashes, and instead of sitting down beside her, Justin set about sweeping it out and stacking logs. He was quick and adept; in seconds a fire was burning against the chill in the cottage.

  Finally he sat down across from her, studying her for so long that she grew nervous. Eventually she couldn’t keep herself from speaking. “Stop it!”

  “Stop what?”

  “Stop staring at me that way. After what you did last night—”

  “You didn’t throw me out,” he reminded her.

  “I felt sorry for you. I thought you could barely stand. And it was all an act, wasn’t it?”

  He shrugged. “No, I’d had a few pints with Barney down at the pub.”

  “Hmm.”

  He leaned back in his chair, staring at her so intently that she leaped up and walked over to the window.

  “You must have something to do,” she said irritably. “A building to build. A sketch or a blueprint to work on.”

  “Actually, I do have something to do.”

  “Then?”

  “I’m not leaving, Kit, until I’ve gotten you moved into the castle.”

  “Justin…”

  “I’ve had it with the three of us hiding in bushes and following you around, Kit. And I cannot leave you alone.”

  “And I can’t—”

  “You could always marry me now. That would still any wagging tongues.”

  She lowered her eyes. She didn’t know what to say, only that a little thrill of panic was sweeping through her.

  She loved him, didn’t she? Her life had been a vast, emotionless wasteland when she had been away from him. She’d spent eight years pretending that she just didn’t meet the right people, but it had all been a pretense. He was the only right one for her.

  Justin would be uncompromising, though. He would demand that Michael be told the truth. He would want her son’s name changed. He would want her to move to Ireland.

  “I can see the gears in that mind of yours working away,” he told her.

  She shook her head sadly. “I can’t….”

  “Kit, just what can you do?” he demanded coldly.

  “I need time.”

  He threw his hands up in disgust. “Time for what?”

  “You don’t understand, do you? I love this place—even though I lost a husband here, I love this place. The people are warm and friendly and giving, but…but it’s not my home. Not yet, anyway.”

  “All right, Kit, God knows why, but I can never win a single argument with you. I can’t get inside your mind. All I know is that this is insane. I love you, and I believe that, despite yourself, you love me. Oddly enough…” He paused, smiling. “Oddly enough, you do seem to have faith in me. You believe in my innocence.”

  “I do,” she whispered.

  He walked toward her, and though he was fully dressed, she couldn’t help remembering her dream. His gait was the same: sure, slow. He knew where he
was going; he could afford to take his time. She watched him, thinking that perhaps she should run, or push him away when he moved to touch her.

  But she couldn’t do that. She inhaled the clean, heady scent of him as he gazed down at her with a crooked smile.

  “It’s a pity that you don’t have more faith in me as a man.”

  “I—I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Aye, you do. But I’ll let you think on that for a minute.”

  She knew that the kiss was coming, and she was certain that he intended it to be just a kiss, nothing more. But when his lips touched hers, she tasted the salt of tears she hadn’t known she was shedding.

  She clung to him, not knowing how else to tell him that what she felt for him was so deep that it was terrifying. That she could all too easily swear to give up everything that she was, everything that she had been, just to be his wife.

  But it would be wrong, and it wouldn’t work. But because she couldn’t put it into words, she put the love she felt into her kiss. Her tongue traced his lips and danced deliciously within the warm, moist cavern of his mouth. She arched against him, putting all her desperation into their kiss.

  He smiled at her. “I did have something to do, but it can wait.”

  She didn’t understand why; after all, she had just refused to marry him. But she met his smile with her own. “I—I wanted to help you, you know,” she whispered. “I came here because—because I wanted to help you.”

  She wasn’t sure when she wound up in his arms, only that suddenly he was carrying her up the staircase.

  And then she was naked on the bed as the wind cried beyond the cottage and he lowered himself to her in the dim light.

  She reached for him because she had no other choice, and she loved him because she was certain it was her destiny to do so.

  Afterward, she lay curled in his arms. She didn’t want him to speak, yet she knew that he would.

  “Kit, you tell me—what do you expect me to do?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you really think that I can just kiss you goodbye and watch you take Mike away from me?”

  A shiver raked along her spine. “He’s not even eight years old.”

  “Aye. But eight years is a long time. And do you know how hard it has been, Kit? Do you have any idea? I see my own son day in and day out, and I have to keep a stranger’s distance. I can only warn you; I won’t wait forever.”

  She tensed, biting her lip, aware of his arm around her and the feel of his chest beneath her cheek.

  “What’s your problem, Kit? You’re an American, and I’m Irish, but that doesn’t make us alien creatures from opposing planets.”

  “Yes, but it does—”

  “I won’t go through this anymore, Kit. I love you. I want to marry you. I want my son.”

  “Justin—”

  “Hear me out, Kit. I’m warning you—there are things that I can do. Legal things.”

  She gasped, pushing herself away from him.

  “You can’t do anything! I’m his mother. Don’t you dare threaten me!”

  “You’re threatening me,” he commented easily, which chilled her even more. He looked so comfortable; legs sprawled out, fingers laced behind his head. She was on the verge of either tears or a tantrum, her hair a tangled mess and her hands clenched into fists.

  What did she expect from him? she wondered. He knew that Mike was his son, and someday Mike would have to know, too. Was she wrong to fight him so?

  It wasn’t that she didn’t want Mike to know; she just wasn’t sure when. And it would have to be done carefully, while Justin was so accustomed to simply claiming what he wanted.

  “You know that I’m right,” he said suddenly.

  “I can’t—”

  “You can’t, you can’t, you can’t!” he mocked, his eyes narrowing as anger burned within them. His hands suddenly locked behind her head. “Thank God you don’t lie about this,” he murmured.

  “This?”

  “Us.”

  And then he kissed her. So tenderly, so completely, that a haunting rush of sweetness and honey began to cascade through her again. She sighed and gave in to the overwhelming desire. This feeling needed no reason, no words. This beauty was always there, waiting to be awakened, to be explored.

  Could this be a love to last forever? Kit wondered, feeling herself become complete in his arms.

  He was leaning against her now, his fingers entwined with hers, and he smiled, a little sadly. “I love you. Thank you.” He placed a light kiss against her lips.

  She regarded him warily. “What was that for?”

  He grimaced. “Well, I needed one last…intimate encounter.”

  “Last?” Kit inquired, frowning suspiciously.

  “I don’t think you’re going to be speaking to me much longer.”

  “Oh? Why?”

  “Well, I’m going to threaten you again.”

  “Justin, you can’t—”

  “Can’t, can’t, can’t. There you go again, Kit. I see it the other way. I can.”

  “Go on,” she told him stonily. Why didn’t she have the sense to argue with the man dressed? she wondered. They were still pressed together, all the heat of his body searing her own.

  “Well, it’s quite simple. You can get up and help me move your things over to the castle now, or…”

  “Or?”

  “I can have a long talk with Mike.”

  “You wouldn’t do that!”

  “Wouldn’t I?”

  “No. You wouldn’t. I don’t believe it. Not for a second.”

  He shrugged, the diabolical sparkle back in his eyes. “Well?” he asked.

  She sighed softly, feeling her independence slip away. “All right. You win.”

  He stared at her for a long moment. “No, I haven’t really won anything at all, have I, Kit?”

  She bit her lower lip. “I love you, Justin.”

  “But you don’t want to give that love a chance.”

  “I need…time.”

  He exhaled wearily, sitting up at last, gazing beyond the windows as he spoke. “I’ll try to give you time, Kit. I’ll try.” Then he rose and headed toward the shower. Kit curled up on her pillow, wondering if she hadn’t gone completely mad, after all. He was reaching out to her…and she wouldn’t let herself take his hand. Maybe it wasn’t so difficult to understand after all. It was going to be so hard to explain to Mike. To her parents and her friends, though they had always known that, no matter what his name was, her son was not her husband’s child.

  But did such difficulties really matter? she asked herself. Wasn’t loving him worth so much more?

  The shower stuttered off, but Kit, lethargic, didn’t move until she felt a sharp slap on the curve of her derriere. Indignant, she rolled over, swearing.

  “And they say the Irish have tempers!” he said cheerfully.

  “They do. At least you do,” she retorted.

  “Up, love. We’re moving. Now.”

  She leaped up from the bed—on the opposite side from where he stood—and saluted him briskly. “Yes, sir!”

  “Now that’s the spirit!”

  Exasperated, she headed for the shower herself. He was in a hurry now, so she just relaxed, savoring the heat of the water as minute after minute ticked by.

  “Stay in there much longer and I’ll join you.”

  She bit her lip, thought about the possibility, then quickly turned off the water. She came out wrapped in a towel, then stopped in startled surprise when she saw that he was completely dressed and she was completely packed.

  “I don’t remember asking you to do that.”

  “Well, I don’t sit idle very well.”

  “You’ve made one mistake.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’d like to get dressed now, and the outfit that I was wearing is covered with leaves.”

  He gave her a smile and set her big suitcase on the bed.

  “Thank yo
u,” she said sweetly.

  He watched her, then turned around quickly. “Hurry down. I think that’s Douglas Johnston dropping Mike off.”

  She nodded, quickly slipping into a soft beige leather skirt and a silky blouse. She had just stepped into her shoes when she heard her son’s voice as he came scampering up the stairs. She tried to straighten the bed, but he didn’t even notice it.

  “Mom, Mom!” He pitched himself against her, then gave her a quick hug.

  “What, what?” she asked, laughing and scooping him into her arms.

  “I need a costume! It’s Halloween in just a few days. All Hallows’ Eve, they call it here. And all the kids go to a party, where they have a big bonfire and all kinds of food and candy. We’re going, right?”

  She tousled his hair. “Of course we’re going.”

  Finally Mike stopped talking about the party long enough to ask her about the suitcase. He was, as she had expected, delighted that they would be staying in the castle.

  Kit picked up the suitcase, heading toward the door. She would bring it down so Justin could put it in the car; then she’d come back for Mike’s things and to straighten up the room. But she paused at the top of the stairway. She could hear voices—angry voices. She frowned, unable to make out the words. Then she realized that Douglas and Justin were fighting, though not throwing punches, at least so far.

  “Mike, stay here,” she told him, racing down the stairs. To her surprise, she realized that they weren’t even in the cottage; they were outside. “Justin? Douglas?”

  The two men fell silent, and Douglas lifted a hand to her in greeting. “Good afternoon, Kit McHennessy.”

  “What’s the matter?” she asked them.

  They looked at each other, shrugged, then looked back to her, smiling.

  “Nothing, Kit,” Douglas said.

  “But I heard you—”

  “Were we that loud?” Justin laughed and laid a hand on Douglas’s shoulder. “We were talking about a soccer match.”

  “Aye, that we were!” Douglas agreed. “I was rooting for the Italians, and Justin thought the Basques were a much finer team. Well, I’ve got to be goin’ now. See you in the morning, Mike.”

  Kit turned around. Mike had followed her downstairs, and now he was smiling happily. “At the castle!” he told Douglas excitedly, adding a belated “Please, sir.”