Claire Delacroix (42 page)

Aurelia snuggled against him, her eyes shining. “I had no such magic, but I like the tale well enough.” She fingered her hair. “And fear not, my hair will not only grow again but be all the thicker for the change.”

“Good.” Baird bent and kissed her soundly, loving how her curves fit perfectly against him.

As though they were made for each other.

* * *

“Our recommendation is far from established, despite your apparent certainty,” Colin informed the confident young man before him.

“My intention is clear,” Darian retorted.

“But you are not the deciding force within the society,” Colin said tightly. He scanned the display mockingly, not liking at all that the site had not been cordoned off properly. “Your work here is amateurish and threatens serious scholarship on what might be a critical site for our understanding of the Picts.”

“Careful, Mr. Russell,” Darian said softly.

“I will not be careful! You have lied to me and manipulated me long enough!” Colin puffed out his chest. “And I do not appreciate that you have misrepresented Mr. Beauforte’s interests in all of this. In our brief discussion, he has shown a marked willingness to work with us in exploring this site.”

Darian grimaced. “He just wants to protect his investment.”

“And I see no reason why he should not.”

The two men stared at each other, then Darian smiled slowly. “But it doesn’t really matter what you think, does it, Mr. Russell?”

“Of course, it matters!” Colin blustered. “Whether you like it or not, young man, I am the founder and president of the National Heritage Preservation Society and my will matters considerably more than yours!” He jabbed a finger through the air. “You are removed from our staff, Mr. Mulvaney!”

“No, Mr. Russell, that’s not how it’s going to be.” Darian unfolded himself and crossed the room. He paused directly before Colin, menace in every line of his body. “Not agreeing with me is a mistake you’ll regret. You’re going to make me the president and deciding voice of the society and you’re going to do it today.”

“I will do no such thing! The society is mine!”

“Not without Mrs. Russell’s support,” Darian threatened.

“Why, you cocky young pup!” Before he considered what he was doing, Colin shoved the man so intent on destroying everything of merit in his life.

Darian cried out, obviously not expecting the older man’s rage. Colin meant only to push him hard, but Darian slipped on the damp floor.

And fell, his head cracking against the lip of the ritual well.

Colin gasped as the younger man’s limp body slid into the murky water. He couldn’t bring himself to go any closer. His first response was a rush of pure freedom, his second outright terror.

What had he done?

And what would this cost his beloved society?

* * *

A bellow from the well was the only thing that could have made Baird stop kissing Aurelia. They stepped apart, exchanged a glance of confusion, then Baird snatched up her hand and they ran across the lawn together.

They darted down the stairs and paused at the bottom. It was only now that Baird noticed the open square on the opposite side of the chamber from the slab that had served as Aurelia’s bed. A stone rim about two feet in height surrounded it and Darian was sprawled across that rim. His feet dangled above the floor, his head and shoulders weren’t visible. Mr. Russell was backed against the far wall, his expression horrified.

Baird crossed the floor with three long strides and reached into the well to lift Darian’s head from the dark water. There was an ugly gash on his temple where he had evidently hit the stone and the water below was tinted red.

There was no pulse at Darian’ throat.

“He’s dead,” Baird said numbly.

Bard, son of Erc, was dead. Baird felt suddenly that an ominous shadow that he had barely acknowledged no longer dogged his footsteps.

“He slipped and fell,” Mr. Russell declared quickly. “It was an accident.” His expression showed that he did not regret the fact, although his explanation didn’t exactly ring true.

Aurelia lingered on the stairs, her own lips tightening at the news. “Like father, like son,” she whispered and crossed her arms over her chest.

Baird glanced up, knowing she wouldn’t regret this death any more than he did.

But her words made him remember that Erc had died in Hekod’s victory over Dunhelm. Baird scanned the chamber, then looked to Mr. Russell. “What exactly is this place?”

Mr. Russell brightened at the chance to explain. “It’s a ritual well, markedly like the one at Burghead, but in fine condition. The details here, the door and so forth, are astonishing in their complexity and frankly, I can’t wait for the opportunity to explore them at leisure.”

“But what’s it for?”

“The Picts used ritual wells for the drowning of undesirables in their society. A sort of capital punishment, if you will.” Mr. Russell peered over the stone lip of the well. “The water is likely only four or five feet deep - usually rainwater accumulated by some clever means - but the typical victim had no chance to escape. The beauty of it is that their death would not taint the water supply of the settlement.”

Baird’s scalp prickled. “What kind of undesirables?”

“Traitors,” Aurelia said flatly. “And much-loathed kings.”

Baird met her gaze and understood.

This was where Erc had drowned.

And not of his own choice.

Mr. Russell smiled, quite unruffled by the loss of one of his employees. “Quite. I’m certain we’ll find some very interesting relics once we pump out the water here. Could we sign that agreement shortly, Mr. Beauforte? I’d like to get a team working here.”

“First, “ Baird said grimly, “we’d better call the police. “

* * *

In one of the smaller conference rooms on the sixty-fifth floor of Beauforte Resorts’ Manhattan Retreat, Julian dropped the firm’s best and final offer onto the cherry table with a disdainful flick of his wrist.

“That’s as good as it gets,” he informed Marissa. “You won’t get another dime.”

He braced himself for her response, a part of him admiring the way Marissa fought for what she thought she deserved. He was kind of looking forward to going another round.

Little did Julian know that the document hit the table at the exact same moment that Darian’s skull cracked on the stone lip of the ritual well.

To Julian’s complete amazement, Marissa took one look at the contract and burst into tears.

“Aw, now, come on, that’s not fair!” He shifted his weight awkwardly from foot to foot, but Marissa just wailed. Julian wagged his finger at her with bravado. “If you think you’re going to make a better deal by using those feminine tricks on me, you’ve got another think coming!”

Marissa wept.

Julian fidgeted. He had only one weakness that he acknowledged. He just couldn’t bear to see a woman cry.

“You know, I don’t appreciate this,” Julian said, trying to sound unaffected by her tears. “I expect better of you, Marissa. I thought you’d fight the good fight here.”

“I can’t believe how badly I messed up!” Marissa wailed, mascara streaming down her cheeks. Julian squirmed before this unexpected display of emotion.

Marissa wiped at her tears and smeared makeup across her cheeks. “I don’t know what I was thinking,” she confessed, then buried her face in her hands. “I never wanted to marry Baird, really. I knew he wasn’t interested in me. I just had this idea that I should get to marry him. It just got into my mind and I couldn’t rid of it.”

She looked up at Julian through her tears. “Have you ever really, really wanted something, more than anything in the world, then been relieved when you couldn’t actually have it?”

“Well.” Julian frowned. “There once was this Calvin Klein suit that I really coveted, but then I saw it on some guy and it made him look so old.” Julian shuddered in recollection and Marissa smiled.

“Well, something like that,” she acknowledged softly.

Julian looked up at the odd sound of her voice and found himself snared by a very alluring dark gaze. Julian realized in that moment that Marissa was actually quite an attractive woman. When she smiled at him like this, well, it tingled some part of him that hadn’t tingled in quite a while.

He pulled his new Gucci hankerchief from his pocket and offered its perfect whiteness to her without a second thought.

She blew her nose enthusiastically and wiped away tears and makeup. “It’s all right, I don’t expect you to understand,” she informed him. “It’s crazy and I halfway don’t believe it myself.”

To Julian’s surprise, Marissa’s midwest twang wasn’t as offensive as he recalled. And the usual hard edge to her lips was gone, leaving her rather enticingly feminine.

He slid into the chair beside her. “There’s a lot of craziness going around. Try me.”

Marissa wrung his handkerchief in her hands and it didn’t even upset him. “You’ll think I’m nuts, but I always had this horrible feeling bearing down on me, that everybody owed me something, that I had to really fight to get what I deserved and to keep people from snatching away what should be mine.” She glanced to Julian and flushed in a most intriguing way. “Well, it’s just gone.”

Julian again had the sense that the aliens were substituting pod people for everyone around him.

But this was an alien that really intrigued him. “What do you mean, gone?”

“All that bitterness, it just went away when you gave me that contract.” Marissa frowned. “I feel empty, like someone waved a magic wand or something. I feel free.”

She shrugged as though she was suddenly self-conscious. “Like I said, it’s nuts. I guess that’s why I cried, it’s so weird to be without all that anger driving me on.” She smiled up at him. “Feels kind of good, actually.”

Julian pursed his lips as his heart lurched. “Nothing crazy about feeling good.”

Marissa laughed in a self-deprecating way that he wouldn’t have ever expected to hear. “Well, I shouldn’t have said anything.” She fingered the contract, flipping through it quickly but not reading the terms. “I guess I fought too hard for Baird. It’s kind of embarrassing to think about how I threw myself at him.”

“You were persistent, I’ll give you that.”

Marissa shrugged and wiped away the last remnants of her tears. “I behaved really badly over this, but Baird is a decent guy. The way I see it, any settlement is more than I deserved.”

“The cash is pretty good,” Julian admitted, still trying to make sense of the woman before him. He told her the page, Marissa turned and her eyes sparkled with delight.

“Oh, you know, I could set up the most darling little shop with that!” She leaned across and pressed his hand, and Julian, oddly enough, had no desire to pull away. “I probably shouldn’t say this, but hotel rooms are so boring to design. Baird did me a favor here - I’m ready for something with a little more meat on the bone.”

And before Julian’s amazed eyes, Marissa signed a settlement agreement that she hadn’t even read. He coughed into his hand. “I really think you should read the terms...”

Marissa laughed. “Why? The money’s good, there’s probably a non-compete, but I don’t want to compete with Beauforte Resorts anyhow. I’m going to try something different, make a new start.”

She looked down and seemed to notice the condition of Julian’s handkerchief for the first time. “Oh, I can’t believe I did this. Look, Julian, I’ll get you another one. I’ve seen them at that new shop, Abernathy’s.”

“Yeah, I bought it there.”

Marissa’s eyes shone. “Don’t they have the most wonderful things? There’s this fuchsia cocktail dress that has absolutely stolen my heart away” - she wrinkled her nose - “but it might be a little too flashy.”

“The one in the window?” When Marissa nodded, Julian waved off her concerns. “You could carry it easily with your coloring, as long as you had an appropriate event to wear it to.”

“Mmm.” Marissa jammed the handkerchief and contract into her purse. “Well, I guess shopkeepers don’t go to those kind of parties very often,” she commented with a smile devoid of malice. “I’ll keep it in mind, though. See you around, Julian.”

Marissa got to her feet and made for the door, but Julian wasn’t quite ready to see the last of her.

“Tell you what, Mort.” Marissa glanced back in surprise and Julian shoved his hands nervously into his pockets. “You buy that dress and we’ll go to Sebastien’s farewell dinner together.”

“I don’t have an invitation.”

“I have two.”

Marissa chewed her lip. “I don’t know if I should. I mean, I’m not with the company any more and wouldn’t want to embarrass Baird.”

“He’s not even going to be here. Think about it, Mort. Sebastien’s farewell feast to Manhattan. Portobello mushrooms...” Julian teased and Marissa caught her breath before she laughed.

“Oh, Julian, you’re making my mouth water!”

“Well, then?”

They eyed each other warily, and Julian thought he saw an answering glimmer of excitement in Marissa’s eyes.

“You don’t have to do this, Julian,” she said softly.

“I want to.”

And he did. “Besides, it’s my obligation as Beauforte’s legal counsel to make sure you understand the ramifications of the agreement you just signed.”

Marissa laughed out loud. “Bull! You didn’t cough before you said that!”

Julian felt his color rise.

“You just want an excuse to buy that black Hugo Boss tux they have at Abernathy’s!”

Julian caught at his heart as though he had been lethally wounded. “Caught! The lady’s too smart for me.” Marissa laughed again and Julian felt oddly light-hearted.

Better the devil you know, after all. He had seen Marissa at her worst and still loved matching wits with her.

And her best was looking very, very promising.

“So, what do you say?”

Marissa smiled, revealing a pair of enchanting dimples. “How could I possibly refuse?”

Julian crossed and took Marissa’s elbow, liking the waft of perfume that tickled his nose. “Could I see you out, Ms. Witlowe?”

Her dark eyes twinkled. “Via Abernathy’s?”