“Gladly.” He let her lead him away from the others, down a dark-paneled corridor that took a left turn and eventually opened into an stone-built, dimly lighted alcove with a great, arching oak door set into the longest wall and fitted out with thick iron hinges, and latched with a massive brass lock.
“Where have you brought me, Josie? To your secret lair?”
“You found me out!” She unlocked the latch with a shiny brass skeleton key, pushed the thick door open and gestured into the cool darkness beyond.
The aroma was familiar and pleasant. “A wine cellar.”
“Designed by my great-grandfather, Richard, for this unused section of the undercroft.” She slipped into the darkness and he hesitated to follow, implausibly suspecting a trap, feeling she might lock them both inside for some nefarious purpose. Not a bad fate.
“Do come join me inside, Gideon.” She turned a switch and the room suddenly filled with golden light from the iron chandelier hanging from the timbered rafters. “Or are you afraid?”
“Terrified.” And he meant it, felt the world shifting beneath his feet, a charge in the air between them, heady and exquisite. But he stepped inside anyway, felt the room embrace him.
The barrel-vaulted ceiling was made of very old stone and braced with thick timbers. Brick alcoves on either side, each fitted with cross-hatched shelves, laden with wines of all types and vintages. The enormous old cabinet that filled the back wall, its shelves studded with bottles of rare spirits, its drawers and stoneware crocks and glass jars of dried herbs giving it the air of an apothecary.
“This part of the undercroft is very old, Gideon.” She switched on a table lamp beside a wooden settle.
“I see that.” Fine wines, expensive and rare, as carefully curated as his brother’s cellar at High Starrow.
“We’re actually not under the Hall at this point. We’re beyond the foundation, inside a passage that extends into the hillside, walled off long ago.”
Thump! With that, the door slammed shut. Josie had slipped past his notice into the shadows behind him while he’d been listening to her tale and was now standing with her back against the great door, arms crossed, chin jutting, her mouth as pouting and enticing as a plum.
“Welcome to Nimue’s Cave.”
Trapped like Merlin—what a lucky man he was. “If you’re planning to seduce me, Josie, you should know in advance that I’ll offer no resistance.”
“Neither would I, Gideon, but I’ll not have you changing the subject again.”
“The subject being what?” All he could think of was her bold declaration that she would offer no resistance to his seduction.
“The subject is the orb. You’re not leaving here until you tell me the truth about what happened to the orb. I’ve not seen it since you absconded with it three days ago. Where is it?”
“No idea. But most concerning to me, Josie is that I don’t know what it is. Do you?”
She nodded emphatically. “I absolutely do.”
“You do?” How could she know for certain, when its physical properties were a confounding mystery to him? “Do you intend to tell me?”
“Only if you’re in a proper frame of mind to know the truth. Are you?”
“I’m a soldier, Josie, and an engineer; facts, figures, proof. My stock in trade is the truth. I am nothing without it. I’ve already made a great fool of myself because I hadn’t taken the time to understand how the bloody device works, so I’d appreciate you enlightening me.”
“All right, then, Gideon. I’ll tell you everything I know about the orb—” she looked up at him with brightly shining eyes, cheeks flushed, her mouth damp and lovely “—the good, the bad and the... unbelievable.”
“I’ve had my fill of unbelievable.” Her assertion that the device had been in her family forever. That it operated independently, came and went at will. “I’d be content with the bad.”
“Then I think you’d best sit down first, and hear the good.” She gestured to a pair of leather-upholstered wooden chairs that faced each other.
The good? Deciding he had no choice, Gideon sat and so did Josie, leaning forward, her elbows propped on her knees.
“You see, Gideon, I first learned of the orb from Aunt Freddy.”
“Aunt Freddy?” What a perfect code name for a dangerous foreign agent. If Josie were a part of some espionage ring–which she couldn’t possibly be. That sort of deception wasn’t in her character.
“My mother’s younger sister. Frederika, actually, mother to my cousins. I lived here with her and my Uncle Anthony after my mother died.”
“Freddy, is your actual aunt? Where is she?”
“In America. Hollywood, actually, and New York, with my uncle and grandparents, but that’s of no moment. As I was telling you, I first learned about the Orb of True Love from my Aunt Freddy—”
“Wait, wait, wait just a minute, Josie. Say that again. The Orb of What?”
“I know, I know, Gideon! The Orb of True Love.” She shook her head and fell backward into the chair. “It’s a stupid name to call such an irritating thing.”
“Irritating?” It was far more than that. Whatever its physical properties, it was astonishing on its face. “What did you call the damn thing again?”
“Not me. My Aunt Freddy.” She sat forward again. “She called it the Orb of True Love. But, since it’s decided to plague you and me, I’ve renamed it the Stone of Certain Doom.”
“Doom?” He leaned forward, his nose just inches from hers. “It’s dangerous, you mean?”
“To the unsuspecting. But, I swear, Gideon, that I had no idea the orb was real until that first night when the bloody thing found us in the library.”
“Found us?”
“Aunt Freddy use to enthrall me with stories, fairytales, I thought, of how she and Uncle Anthony had encountered the orb in the most inappropriate and embarrassing situations. How it had caused them to fall madly in love with each other when they had rather not.”
“Are they happy now?” The question popped out of his mouth on its own, seemed to startle her.
“Why?”
No idea. He shrugged, hoping to hide his own confusion. “Just wondered.”
“Well, yes, my aunt and uncle seem more in love than ever—rather unseemly at times considering their advanced ages.”
“Is this the ‘good?’”
“The what?”
“You said I needed to hear the ‘good’ before the ‘bad,’ Josie. So far, we’ve gotten no further than the ‘unbelievable.’”
“Because you keep interrupting my story. Do you remember the night you took the orb back to your room?”
“Distinctly.” And every damnable moment that came after. He sat back in the arm chair. “I saw you with it in the garden. That’s the reason I came to your office. To catch you with it.”
“I assumed as much when I saw you at my door. The orb had been waiting for you to be watching me before it showed itself in the hedge. Knew I would pick it up, knew you were watching me.”
“What?” Impossible to follow, let alone believe. “Why would it do that?”
“Because—” she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, held it so long he finally had to ask—
“Because why, Josie?” He could hardly believe that he was falling headlong into her story, falling madly for everything about her.
She opened those lovely, honest green eyes. “Because, according to Aunt Freddy, the orb thinks you and I are supposed to be—” she took another breath, released it in a rush “—together.”
“Together, how?”
“Good grief, Gideon. You’re a handsome, red-blooded male. Have you no imagination? The orb thinks you and I ought to be romantically involved. With each other.” All he could do was stare at the woman, dumbfounded by her madness. “I’ve no idea how it works, how it chooses its targets. Nor do I care, but for some reason my aunt’s Orb of True Love has decided that we should be a couple.”
“A couple.”
He leaned closer, compelled by her scent, the amber lamplight riding the strands of her hair, said softly, “that’s absurd, you know.”
“Well, of course it’s absurd, Gideon. My entire family history is absurd—both sides, if you knew the truth–but especially when it comes to that bloody orb. I was horrified when I saw it in the library and realized what it was. How it had caused the two of us to chase after it ‘together’ as it rolled around on the floor. Because I knew immediately what it wanted, why it revealed itself. What it’s now trying to do to us.”
“To us?”
“To you and me, Gideon. You see, it has a mind of its own. It’s pushy and rude and thinks it knows best—”
“It thinks? Josie, are you mad?” One of them was. Probably himself, because she seemed altogether cool and in control. He, on the other hand, was aroused and aching to take her into his arms. “How do you mean it ‘thinks?’”
“It just does. Not like we ‘think,’ of course. But remember that first day in Balesboro Wood, I told you that Nimue and Merlin were lovers?”
“How could I forget?” The sunlight on her cheeks, the breeze catching strands of her hair.
“What I didn’t tell you at the time—because, why would you ever believe it—was that their grand passion was a brilliant, living thing and Nimue cast a spell that embedded their love in the moonstone atop Merlin’s staff.”
“Nimue cast a love spell?”
“And so, to secure the spell after foiling Lancelot’s theft of the staff and his attempt to ensorcel Guinevere—”
“King Arthur’s Guinevere?”
“Arthur’s wife, of course.”
“Of course.” Now, he was actually listening to wholesale magical nonsense, watching her lush mouth as she spun her tale for him.
“Merlin then cast a spell of protection so the orb would act only when it sensed a deep and honest need for true love.”
A deep and honest need for love. For her. For Josie, who was fingering the buttons on his shirt cuffs, gazing up at him with those enticing green eyes. “Is there more to your story?”
“Only to assure you that none of this is your fault.”
“My fault?”
“If anything it’s mine. Because Merlin made certain the orb only works when a female descendant of his and Nimue’s finds herself in need of, of—” her luminous eyes found his.
“Of true love?”
“Yes.”
“And are you?”
“A descendant, yes. According to my family’s madness. I’ve even have the legendary birthmark, a pale oval on my left shoulder.”
“But are you in need of true love, Josie?” He was desperately in need of her, the feel of her skin beneath his lips as he searched for this legendary oval.
She blushed and cleared her throat, straightened in her chair. “Not that I’ve ever noticed. I’m quite happily managing the estate alone. Too busy at the moment for such frivolities as true love, what with the war, and all. Besides, I’m fairly sure that the orb changed its mind about us.”
“Why do you say that?” And why did her pronouncement feel like a stab to his heart?
“Because it’s disappeared. You’ve been back from Yeovilton these three days and I haven’t seen hide nor tail of the orb in all that time. Not a glow in sight. Not that I care in the least, mind you. Have you seen it since?”
“No, but then I’ve been very busy.”
“I’ve noticed.” She sniffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “Too busy to let me know what happened on your trip to the air station. Did the orb stick with you?”
“No.”
“I gave you fair warning—”
“You did, Josie. I even stopped at the bottom of the drive and checked again. It was there in the box, wrapped in the scarf, just as before. So I drove with it to the office of my good friend and colleague—a highly-regarded inventor, where I built up the importance of the device until he was as convinced as I that it would turn the course of the war. Only to open the lid and find nothing but the scarf.”
“What did he say?”
“That he believed me.” He could laugh now at the memory. “What else would he say to an old friend who’d gone barmy? I drove away embarrassed, empty-handed and at a loss.”
“I am sorry, Gideon. I really am. I’m not gloating or boasting that ‘I told you so,’ because—who in their right mind would ever believe in such a thing as an Orb of True Love that comes and goes at will and only shows itself to Nimway guardians it thinks are in need of—”
“Does the orb ever make a mistake when it chooses a target? Does it ever give up?”
“I don’t know. But that’s brilliant, Gideon!” She stood, grabbed his hands and tugged him to his feet. “What if we try to stop the orb in its matchmaking tracks by proving to it once and for all that you and I are not in the least compatible? You know it, and I know it, but the orb is hard-headed.”
“It is a rock, after all, Josie.” She laughed as brightly as he’d ever heard her laugh and it set his pulse afire. “What is your plan?”
“We kiss.”
“Sounds simple enough.” Dangerous as hell. The deepest yearning of his heart.
“We kiss—” she caught her lower lip with her teeth in a shy smile “—and then, when it turns out that we feel absolutely nothing romantic toward each other—”
“Which we won’t—” A question, not a conclusion.
“Then the orb senses our disinterest—”
“And leaves us alone after that?” Another kind of madness, if she could imagine that happening.
“Yes, and returns to Nimue’s Cave or wherever it lives when it’s not pestering innocent people like us.” She caught the front of his shirt, drew him close and whispered, “Do you think it’s possible?”
The entire conversation with the enchanting woman had been impossible, from the moment she invited him into the wine cellar to this very moment, from the afternoon she’d first entered his life.
“That’s all, Josie? You think a simple kiss will be convincing enough?”
“Gideon Fletcher!” A blush bloomed on her cheeks, a quirky slant to her smile. “Are you suggesting we go further? Because—”
“No, Josie.” Not yet. Though his pulse had risen like a storm, thrumming in his chest, flooding his groin with a pulling need for her. “A kiss should suffice.”
She leaned forward as though sharing a secret they would keep from the orb. “Should we kiss here and now?”
“Here, Josie—” Gideon threaded his fingers through her hair, cupped the back of her head and drew her close, savored the nearness of her mouth, her quick little breaths against his jaw, the surge of anticipation, touching his lips to her temple, her cheek—
“Does this—oh, that’s wonderful, Gideon. Yes, right there. Oh!” She leaned lightly back into the cradle of his hands, tilted her chin, offering her lips, closed her eyes. “—count as a kiss?”
“Ah, Josie!” Starved for the taste of her, he covered her mouth with his, kissing her fiercely, plunging and plying, drawing a mewling moan from her that set his skin on fire. Next thing he knew, she was wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him closer with kisses of her own. Hot and wet, touching his face with her soft fingers.
Until his kiss became hers, and he was lifting her into his arms where she fit so deeply and deliciously. Long, lingering moments passed, exploring her, enjoying her taste, her touch, until she was giggling and raining kisses all over his face, and he wanted nothing else in the world but to take her for his own. Forever more.
“Did you hear that, Gideon?” she finally asked against his neck when all he could hear was the pounding of his heart.
Then an annoying thump on the thick door and a voice, “That’s the all clear, Miss Josie!”
She pressed her fingers against her secret smile, touched the softness where his lips had just been playing.
“I guess I’m wanted.” She spread her fingers across the middle of his chest a
nd stepped backward.
“Clearly, Josie.” Wanted like he’d never wanted anything or anyone.
She straightened the collar of her shirt. “Do you think the kiss worked?”
He felt himself smiling like a fool. “It did for me.”
“But for the orb? Do you think it sensed disinterest?”
He frowned as though he cared. “I’m not sure.”
She caught her lower lip with her teeth. “I’m not sure, either.”
“You go, Josie.” He winked, couldn’t wait to see her again. His very own enchantress with a mythical birthmark that needed exploring. “I’ll lock up on my way out.”
She pressed the key into his palm, closed it inside his fist and dropped a kiss on his knuckles. “Tomorrow night, in the library?”
“I’ll try, Josie. I promise.” Though his schedule shifted with the needs of the Operational Base and the other seemingly-senseless draws upon his time.
She got all the way to the door, turned and ran back to claim another kiss, then left Gideon standing in the cellar full of lush scents and very old spirits.
Chapter 10
“There you are, Miss Josie,” Mrs. Peak said the moment Josie entered the parlor where the Knit for a Knight ladies were packing away their work, “we feared you’d gotten lost in the raid.”
Thoroughly lost, thoroughly kissed. Good grief, did it show? She could still feel the heat of him, the taste of him. Her cheeks were flushed as though she’d run a mile and she wondered if the women suspected that the reason was Gideon.
“I was just seeing to the stragglers, Mrs. Peak.” To hide her blush Josie held out a brown jumper by the shoulders. “It’s beautiful! Who knitted this?”
“I did the arms,” Vera said, “and Myrna did the body.”
“Forty-four jumpers in all,” Mrs. Peak said dropping a pile of folded knitwear into a box, “and six dozen scarves.”
“My dear ladies,” Josie said, looking around at their earnest faces, “I know I don’t say it enough, but I’m so very proud of you and all the work you do for the war effort. Our men in uniform will be so grateful come winter to be wearing one of your lovely creations.” The jumpers were expertly constructed, every knit and purl made with love toward a complete stranger.
The Legend of Nimway Hall_1940_Josie Page 16
