The Amber Brooch: Time Travel Romance (The Celtic Brooch Book 8)

by Katherine Lowry Logan

1878 Denver, Colorado—Amber

  From the moment Daniel had swept past Amber on the sidewalk in Leadville, to this minute, he had haunted her dreams. Had her dream summoned him tonight like a vision in a crystal ball? She rubbed her eyes, moistened her lips in a nervous gesture. After being so focused earlier in the evening, her brain was now a jumble of thoughts thrashing about in her mind, and she struggled to make sense of the tangle.

  “Why did you come back? You’re supposed to be in Caǹon City.” She swung a shawl around her shoulders and settled into the curve of the small sofa, tucking her legs beneath her.

  “Ye’re cold. I’ll stoke the fire.” He set the cat on the loveseat and picked up the poker. A fringe of flames sputtered over the bed of glowing embers. He tossed in a handful of kindling and topped it with logs. Light sprang up, dancing over the flowers in the wallpapered walls. “General Palmer sent me back with an invitation. He’d like ye to join him in Caǹon City for lunch.”

  “Me? Whatever for?” Meeting General Palmer would be her dad’s dream come true. She would gladly meet with the general for her dad’s benefit, but right now she had to prioritize dreams, and meeting with Palmer would rank number three, behind exploring Morrison and kissing Daniel. And the order of those two fluctuated, hour by hour. “After tonight, I don’t think that’s necessary. Olivia gave the board of directors unsolicited legal advice. I’m sure they’ll share the information with the general.”

  “Rick told me about the dinner conversation and that Olivia is as well versed as ye are. I heard some of yer question and answer session in the library.”

  Amber puffed her cheeks, slowly expelled air, disappointed that he hadn’t shown himself. The evening had been delightful, but she had missed him terribly. “I’m sorry I didn’t see you.”

  “Ye were busy.” Daniel returned the poker to the wrought-iron stand and brushed detritus from his hands before furrowing his fingers through his damp hair. The muscles of his arms and shoulders shifted fluidly under his untucked shirt. “It reminded me of yer fans lining up after yer performances.”

  She smiled. “I don’t think anyone has been so interested in what I had to say since I defended my—”

  Slight frown lines appeared between his eyebrows. “Defended what?”

  She rubbed her tired eyes, thinking how she could best explain defending her master’s thesis. “When I finished my education, I met with several professors to review what I’d learned.”

  Daniel filled snifters with brandy and handed one to her. “Like what ye did in Judge Adams’ office?”

  “Very much like that.” It wasn’t until Daniel placed the glass in her hand that she realized she was shaking from worry and fatigue. She tossed down the brandy, sighing as the heat of the familiar sweet taste loosened the knot in her throat that formed every time she had to obfuscate.

  “What about tomorrow? Will ye agree to go?”

  The brandy burned a path to her stomach and out to her limbs, but it didn’t stop the shaking. “If the general is serious about talking to me, Olivia should go. She’s more informed, and I’m going to Morrison with Rick. Do you know where he is?”

  “With Alec at his club.”

  “What about Olivia and Connor?”

  “Rick told me earlier she and Connor were looking for a quiet place to talk.”

  “Then they’re in the house somewhere.” If they were in Connor’s bedroom that opened all sorts of possibilities for her sister, but she didn’t believe Olivia would pick up where she and Connor left off before they were interrupted at the ranch house. Without a guarantee of privacy, Olivia wouldn’t take the risk of getting caught in a compromising position.

  “She should be in her room at this hour.”

  “In Leadville, we met several times in the middle of the night.”

  A furtive look darted across his face. “Not in yer bedroom.”

  “If it will make you feel better”—she pointed toward her bed—“That’s my bedroom. This is my sitting room.”

  “It does, but not by much.” He finished his drink then set the empty glass on the table. “What do ye plan to do after ye finish in Morrison?”

  “Go home. Unless Rick will take me to Garden Park.”

  “That’s close to Caǹon City.”

  “I know. The site has lots of fossils of Late Jurassic mammals, turtles, and even crocodiles, plus the rivalry between Marsh and Cope really plays out in Garden Park. I’d like to go. But”—she took a few shallow breaths against the pain in her chest—“I don’t think he’ll take me.”

  “Come with me to Caǹon City. Then after ye meet with the general, I’ll send an escort with ye to Garden Park. If I can get away, I’ll join ye.”

  “Are we bargaining?” She prodded him gently, here and there, waiting to see what really had brought him to her room in the middle of the night.

  “Yes, if that’s how ye see it.”

  “You don’t have the manpower to spare, and besides, Rick and I have an agreement that I can’t rescind or amend. I promised him I would go home.”

  “Where is that?”

  “Are you interrogating me again?”

  “No. I know ye have bits of information ye don’t want to tell me, but is the location of yer home too big a secret to share?”

  “Big or little, a secret is a secret. Size doesn’t matter.”

  There was a charged silence, save for the wind and the rustle of bare tree limbs against the window panes, and the fire, always the fire, crackling and popping and spitting sparks into the air.

  “Why is the location a secret?” His blue eyes stayed steady on her face, as he stood there next to the sofa, one hand in his trouser pocket.

  Stillness seemed to hold there in his expression, as if he was intentionally holding back the half-smile that easily toppled her heart so quickly it scarcely missed a beat, a heavy beat between being free and being conquered, between being truthful and not…

  Exasperated, she said, “Chicago. It’s in Chicago.”

  With a sweep of his gaze, he evaluated her anew, testing the weight of her words, and she sensed he weighed other things as well. “Is that where ye’re going?” he asked.

  She opened her mouth to lie once again but didn’t. Instead, she petted the cat, thankful for the distraction. Finally, she asked, “What’s on your mind, Daniel? This isn’t about where I live or where I’m going.”

  The room was charged with an understood but unspoken potential, and he shifted slightly. As if trying to decide to go or stay. Decision made, he eased onto the sofa beside her. “I don’t want ye to leave before I finish my assignment.”

  “Noah is fine. His grandfather hired a tutor. Noah just needs to meet boys his age. I recommend he go to school while he’s here and work with the tutor in the afternoons.”

  “I’m not talking about Noah. I’m talking about ye. I want ye to stay. If Rick must leave, I’ll escort ye wherever ye want to go.”

  Millie jumped to the floor and scooted under the couch, flicking the tip of her tail.

  “What’s she looking for?”

  “She was chasing a ball of twine earlier. It must be wedged beneath the sofa.”

  Daniel stooped down to look, found the ball, and tossed it across the room. Millie chased after it and swatted it under the bed.

  “Are you hoping if I stay long enough, an agent will have time to uncover some criminal activity?”

  “Ye’re not a criminal. I don’t know what ye’re hiding, but I hope ye’ll grow to trust me enough to tell me the truth.”

  “I haven’t committed a crime. I’m not running from an abusive husband. I don’t have a secret identity.” She played with the fringe on her shawl, staring distractedly at the modest fire curling around the logs. “But there are some things I can’t tell you right now.”

  “I know ye have secrets. I accept that.”

  “Not dangerous ones or hurtful ones.”

  Millie jumped back onto the settee and stretched long and deep before
climbing onto Daniel’s lap. “How do ye feel?”

  “Are you asking Millie or me?”

  He tilted his head, considering her question. “I know how Millie feels. I can hear her.” He held the cat up to his ear. “I was right. She’s pleased.”

  She’s being held by you. How could she not be pleased?

  He set the cat back on the floor. “Have ye had another breathing episode since last night?” He pulled one end of the ribbon tied in a bow at the end of her braid. Then slowly, erotically, unbraided her hair, smoothing the ripples in the thick strands.

  I’m about to have one now.

  “No.” She lied, and the look he gave her said he knew the truth. Last night he’d stormed out when he recognized her lie, but tonight she knew instinctively he would let it go unchallenged. Something flitted through his expression and whatever it was, it worried her a great deal. He didn’t move, didn’t touch her at all. His presence alone warmed her in all the places his lips had heated the night before.

  She closed her eyes, focusing on his voice, his touch as he traced the line of her jaw. His fingers teased her neck as they circled around to her nape and with the slightest pressure he gathered her to him, shaking, and his lips hovered a breath away from hers.

  She set both hands on his chest, feeling the cadence of inhalation and exhalation along with the pulse of his heartbeat, so much stronger than her own. The warm scent of the soap he had used mixed with his natural musky scent and reminded her of tangled sheets, skin sliding on skin, and whispered words of urgency.

  Everything narrowed down to what she could feel and hear. The certainty of his arms about her, the steadiness of his breathing.

  “I need ye, lass. I need ye in my life. Don’t leave yet.”

  She knew he ached to kiss her. A strange ripple, like a stone tossed into a creek, went through her, burning hot and wet, and the breath caught in her throat, in a dry sounding gasp. His mouth brushed slowly over hers before settling with gentle pressure. His beard rasped her chin and the tip of his tongue tasted her lips.

  He broke away and stood. Then ever so gently, he swept her into his arms and carried her across the room where, in the light of the flickering fire and a single lamp, he lay her gently on the bed. The feather mattress shifted as he lowered himself to her side and touched her face with such tenderness, tears filled her eyes.

  “Don’t cry, lass.”

  He kissed her eyes, and when he kissed her on the mouth, she tasted her own salty tears. She thought she was prepared to explore the taste and textures and savor the smells and sounds that would follow. But as their lips brushed, she knew in her heart she wasn’t prepared at all. His mouth was a feast, the apple-scented brandy, the whisky undertones. She could lose herself in the taste of him, and the low moans rumbling in his chest, and the clean, manly scent of his skin.

  This was so different from what she was accustomed to. It wasn’t a form of punctuation or hasty dash at the end of a conversation. This was urgent, wild, and fresh, and it eroded her balance.

  This was her dream.

  Her fingers curved over the hard planes of his shoulders and neck. He took a quick breath and reached down, his hand skimming over the silk of her gown, over her breasts.

  “Take off your clothes,” she said. “I want to touch you.”

  “No. Ye’re not well. I won’t risk hurting ye.” He kissed her lightly and gazed into her eyes. “I have to know, though. Will I be yer first?”

  “If I say no, will you be disappointed? If I say yes, will you leave?”

  “If ye say no, I’ll be jealous of the man who took ye first. If it’s aye, then I’ll wait.”

  “You’re already waiting.”

  “I’ll wait longer.”

  “You’re not my first.” But he would be her last. The thought took her by surprise. When those sorts of premonitions invaded her psyche, they scared her, and this one scared the hell out of her, and she didn’t want to analyze what it could mean.

  He combed his fingers through her hair, holding it away from her head. “Was it Rick?” He released the strands, letting them drift back over her shoulders.

  A faint moan escaped her lips and all resistance fled, burned away by the heat of his touch. “Was what Rick?”

  He directed inquiring eyes on her. “Yer first.”

  “No, but a man much like him.” The bad boy who broke her heart really wasn’t anything like Rick. He was selfish and insensitive, and Rick was neither. And it wasn’t that Rick was afraid of commitment, either. It was just that he wasn’t ready for a commitment now. Even if she waited five years for him, he would never be her soul mate.

  “I still won’t take ye. Not until ye’re well.”

  She threaded her fingers into his damp hair, gazing into his deep blue eyes. “Are you hoping I’ll want to make love so desperately that I’ll go to the doctor?”

  “If ye ever want me as desperately as ye don’t want a doctor, I’d consider that the ultimate compliment.” He trailed a finger down her neck, across the swell of her breasts, down to the juncture of her legs. “Ye’re so beautiful. So precious.”

  She cupped the side of his face, steeped in need, immersed in sensation. “I want you naked against me, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to breathe.”

  “Being inside of ye, Amber, I won’t be able to breathe.”

  It was the first time she remembered him ever calling her by name, except in her dream. She threw her head back and arched against him. His mouth fitted over hers and he kissed her fully. There was promise in his power, held in check to protect her. Her mind and body were completely governed by sensual impulses. As a desperate ache cambered low in her body, she surrendered to the primal rhythms pulsing through her veins.

  And she finally understood that knowing him, loving him, would leave her forever torn between the centuries.

  39

  1878 Denver, Colorado—Amber

  Amber rolled over in bed, yawning, and placed the back of her hand over her eyes, willing herself to slide back into the warm cocoon of the down coverlet and erotic dreams. Daniel stirred, and she flung one arm across him, and snuggled against his shoulder.

  “Good morning to you too, sis.”

  Amber sat bolt upright like a woman stuck with her missing hatpin. “Where’d you come from?”

  Laughing, Olivia rolled onto her side and propped her chin on her hand. “What you’re really asking is, ‘Where’d Daniel go?’ He left when I snuck in, shortly before daybreak.”

  “Was I… Were we…”

  “Appropriately covered? Dressed? Compromised? What?”

  Amber fell back and pulled the coverlet over her head. “All the above,” she groaned.

  Olivia pulled down the decorative cover. “You were both sound asleep, snuggling. I hated to wake him. He had the most disgustingly delicious smile.”

  “That’s an oxymoron.”

  “Okay,” Olivia pursed her lips in thought. “Gorgeous smile, relaxed, and innocent.”

  “You certainly weren’t looking at Agent Grant then. The smile, yes, but relaxed and innocent? Nah. How about tense and dangerous?”

  “Nope. He looked like Noah—adorable and huggable.”

  “He must have been dreaming of catching me in more lies and slamming a jail cell door in my face.”

  “Oh, stop it. He doesn’t believe you’re a criminal. A prevaricator, maybe, but not someone who belongs behind bars. Besides if he locked you up, he couldn’t sleep with you.”

  Amber manufactured a tone of denial. “He didn’t sleep with me.”

  “Looked that way to me. I mean you were both in this bed, asleep.”

  “Sleep, yes, but we didn’t…” Amber gave up, frustrated. “Nothing happened.”

  Olivia pinned her for a moment, a frog to a dissection pan. “Amber, something happened in this room last night.”

  “No. I mean it. We didn’t—”

  “I know you didn’t have sex. Daniel was fully clothed and that mop
of yours wasn’t all in a tangle.”

  Amber pulled her hair into a ponytail, twisted it, and looped it all into a sloppy bun at the top of her head. “Leave my mop out of this. Not everyone is gifted with hair that looks as good coming out of bed as it does going in.”

  “It’s time to cut it off. You’re too old to have hair down to your butt.”

  “Why are you giving me such a hard time?”

  “Because something happened in this room, in this bed. Body language doesn’t lie. Daniel was a soldier. Now he’s a cop or a secret agent or something, and he didn’t hear me enter the room. When I shook him awake, he looked down at you first. He knew exactly where he was. He kissed your mouth, kissed my forehead, and left the room. And I swear…” Olivia crossed her heart. “I heard him whistle. The man’s in love.”

  Amber pulled the covers back over her head, and when a rush of shivers tickled her spine, she did a shimmy-shake.

  Olivia tugged the covers down again. “Stop hiding. Did you hear me? He’s in love.”

  “Yes, I heard you, and I don’t want to talk about it. But where were you all night? Did you and Connor do the horizontal happy dance? Or make the beast with two backs?”

  Olivia climbed out of bed and crossed the room to the fireplace. “You know me. I wouldn’t risk getting caught.” She stirred the embers, tossed on some kindling, then stacked logs on the grate. “Besides, we had too much to talk about.”

  “You’re lying. Your neck’s all red. You guys were making out. I don’t know why you’re denying it. So what’d you talk about?”

  Olivia poked at the logs until the fire began to blaze. “We’re starting over. Not completely over, but we’re resetting the relationship to right after the first kiss. We figured that’s a good place to restart.”

  A muffled knock turned Olivia’s attention from the fireplace. She set the poker aside and hurried to open the door. “Coffee? How marvelous. I’ll take the cart. Thank you, Mrs. Murphy. You’re so kind, so sweet.”

  Olivia’s profuse praise caused Mrs. Murphy’s cheeks to flush, a faint smile growing on her lined face. “I’ll send up hot water for bathing.”