The Presence (16 page)

She nodded, and a wistful smile came to her lips. “I need you.”

“Aye, and I'm here.”

The curve to her lips deepened. “I know that you'd… keep me company with nothing more required. And this may sound very strange indeed, but I'm not afraid anymore. I want to be with you. So…you know that thing about me jumping you? Well…?”

He hesitated for a minute and a wave of uncertainty washed over her, almost a sense of panic. He would push her away, she thought; she was acting like a fool.

But then he lifted her chin and met her eyes with an intensity burning in his own. “I just don't want you jumping me because…because you need someone to sleep with.”

She stared up at him, shaking her head. “Not
someone.
You.”

“Ah,” he murmured, still studying her.

“So…you
don't
want me jumping you?” she queried.

“Aye, lass, that I do,” he said, and the ragged tremor in his voice alone sent shock waves of hunger and anticipation streaking through her. “I do, that I do. I want you jumping me because you just can't stand it anymore. Because you're thinking I'm the sexiest thing that's ever walked into your life. Because you want my hands all over you, everywhere. Because your every thought re
garding me is totally sensual, simply carnal.” His voice deepened still further, and the steel of his eyes was silver, the heat in his hold, in his body, almost staggering. “I want you jumping me because you're dying to get your hands on my bare flesh, because you're absolutely fascinated by what a Scotsman's got under his kilt.”

“You're not wearing a kilt.”

“Ah, lass, if this is really what you want, I don't intend to be wearing anything.”

She reached up, stroking his cheek, marveling at the texture of his flesh, wondering, in that moment, how she had kept so long from doing this. She breathed him in, feeling the deep-seated power in his chest and everything that was so strikingly male about him—the sense, the feel, the color of his hair, the set of his features and all that she couldn't quite touch.

“I want to crawl into your skin,” she whispered honestly, meeting his gaze.

He stepped back, and for a moment again, she felt the vulnerability of having laid her heart on the line. Or the absolute extent of her desire, at the very least. She felt her nakedness then, and her eyes betrayed a need too deep.

But he hadn't left her. He was simply getting out of his shirt so quickly that a button went flying.

“My skin is all yours,” he said. “All of it.”

She smiled, throwing herself against him once more, taking a moment to delight in the feel of his flesh against her own, her breasts pressed hard to him, the erotic pressure of muscle, the tease of dark hair upon his chest. His hand, massive, the fingers so long, caught beneath her chin, lifting her face to his. His lips formed upon her own, his tongue bold. The first kiss was no gentle
sway but a staggering force that eclipsed the world and created a staggering acuity in her senses. She was so keenly aware of where he touched her, and where he did not. And every inch of her naked length longed to be stroked by him, longed to come closer and closer. His tongue entered her mouth with a thrust and power that created a staccato pulse of all that was to come. She seemed to lose air and all thought of breathing. She felt like a bow, stretched tight and quivering, and she was afraid her knees would give at any moment.

Maybe he knew….

He lifted her against him. Again, every brush of sensation seemed to be acute. The feel of the fabric of his jeans, his belt buckle, his hands, his flesh, the force of his erection against the denim. It occurred to her vaguely that she'd known him two days' time; it seemed like forever. His naked chest against her flesh was hot with a fever that seduced and entered into her soul, exotic, overwhelming. He laid her upon the ancient tapestry of his bed, beneath the brocade canopy, and when he moved to doff his shoes and jeans, she was bereft, left cold and aching. In seconds he was back, upon her, straddling, creating a new wave of frenzied fire as she felt the bareness of his sex against her flesh.
Then
would have been fine. She had never wanted any thing more. But he leaned low, eyes meeting hers again, fingers finding her arms, tracing their length, drawing them above her head as his lips found hers once again.

And from there…

The wet pressure of his lips, tongue, mouth, the feel against her breasts, nipples, was almost more than she could bear. His hands slid down to caress her torso; her
fingers threaded into his hair. She writhed beneath him, gasping. “I am supposed to be jumping you!”

For a moment, his eyes touched hers, steel and silver, both hard and bright. “Ah, but jumping on me now could cause serious damage, and not further the cause at all.” His face burrowed against her belly then, his tongue teasing her navel. Lower. Laving the hollows of her hips. And his hands…between her thighs. His fingers…a stroke never hesitant, a touch…followed by his kiss….

She cried out, stunned, catapulted to an urgency that was pure anguish. Reeling with the impact, the sensual sensation so staggering, she jackknifed beneath him, reaching a climax that rocked through her with astonishing speed, staying with her, gripping her….

And feeling him again, the slide of his body against her own, the insinuation of his sex and the length of it within her, so that before she had drifted down she was soaring up once again. She was moving with him in a state of blind, desperate bliss, so very aware of his scent, his heat, his vibrancy and every detail of the sheer physicality of their union. Heaven and earth seemed to fade away. There was nothing but entwining arms, limbs, the slick feel of naked flesh, the rise within her and the pounding, pulsing desire to reach the pinnacle once again.

She had thought herself stroked, sated, to the point of wild ecstasy before, had thought that nothing could ever shock or exhilarate her to such a fantastic sensual delight and combustion again. She had been wrong. His ragged pulse, stroke, thrust, touch, evoked and elicited a wildness in her she had never dreamed. Cries escaped her; she clung to him, writhed beneath him, arched and
thundered, indeed, as if she could get into his skin…and the wild violence with which she exploded then into climax was shattering. As it ripped through her again and again, she trembled, awed, weakened, shaking, barely aware of the world around her. He held her still, damp, hot, the pulse that had thundered through the beat of her heart, slowing, bit by bit….

His arms, fast around her, his hair, a tangled thicket of ebony over his forehead, his eyes…silver, so sensual. His words…

She waited, barely breathing, longing to know what he would say.

And then…they both heard it—the rapping on the door.

“Bruce? You in there?”

The flicker in his eyes became one of resignation and amusement.

“Robert Chamberlain,” he murmured with regret. “I told him to come by.”

She certainly wasn't a child, had every right in the world to do what she was doing, to be where she was. Yet Toni found herself leaping to her feet, offering him a grimace. “Right,” she said simply, and fled through the connecting bath.

D
arkness had descended and done so deeply by the time Thayer returned. As he headed up the driveway, he slowed, noting the cars at the foot of the hill by the forest, all with law enforcement markings on them. There was the constable's car, and a few from farther afield—as far as Edinburgh and Stirling.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what had happened.

Still he slowed the car. An officer in uniform seemed to be standing vigil out by the cars. He walked to the driver's door of Thayer's vehicle as he slowed.

“Evening, sir!” the officer said.

“Evening.”

“Heading for the castle? If you're here for one of the tours, I'm afraid there isn't one tonight.”

“Actually, I'm with the folks giving the tours.”

“Ah!” the fellow said. He peered more intently at Thayer.

“Heard it was Americans, giving tours on Scottish history. You from Glasgow?”

“Aye, that I am. Kin to one of the Americans. They're giving good tours,” Thayer said. He didn't know why he was sounding defensive. He certainly didn't want to
be challenging any law officials. Especially with what he had in the car.

“What's happening here?” he asked the officer.

“The news will be gettin' out soon enough, I wager,” the officer said. Thayer tensed.

“They've…found a body?” he asked.

“Aye!” the officer said gravely.

“In the forest again, eh?”

“Aye, again!”

“So…” Thayer said slowly, feeling a sheen of sweat break out on his upper lip. “They found the missing girl?”

The officer suddenly frowned, shaking his head. “Is that what you thought? Ach, well, and why not, since the other poor wee lasses were found here,” the officer said. “Nae, what they've found is a very old corpse…well, bones and pieces, at the least. They're thinking she was the wife o' the laird of the castle, but there are fellows in there now from the university, as well as from the law! That's all I know. So, if you've legitimate business up at the castle, you go on up. Take care around here, eh? They haven't found the poor lass gone missing last in here as of yet, but with the discoveries made of late, well, they still may be doin' so. Aye, and if you can think of anything that you've seen around here out of the ordinary—other than a flock of Americans!—you be sure to tell the constable right away.”

The officer thought that he was amusing. Thayer cracked a weak smile.

“Seriously, report anything suspicious right away,” the officer said.

“Aye, right away,” Thayer promised him.

The officer patted the car's hood. Thayer gave him a wave, put the car into gear and started up the path to the castle.

He parked in the driveway and hesitated. He hadn't realized that he was sweating, that his palms were clammy, that he had been shaking inside, right down into his boots.

Did he look as flushed as he felt? he wondered. And why not? He'd just been told that a body was found in the woods.

He sat a second longer, then exited the car. He started toward the castle, then turned back and stared at the vehicle, and made sure that the locks had clicked.

He slicked back his hair, and started on in.

Actually, he told himself, there was a bit of a thrill to it all.

 

“I didn't catch you sleeping at this time—and under these circumstances?” Robert said, looking up as Bruce made his way down the stairs.

“Sleeping?” Bruce repeated. “Ah, no.”
Frankly, old chum, you just interrupted one of the finest moments in my life,
Bruce thought dryly. Then again, he'd asked Robert to come by. “Shared shower these days,” he said briefly. That kind of explained, with a grain of truth. He wasn't so sure Toni would want their intimacy either known or broadcast at this moment, so he went on quickly. “Have you met the others?”

“I have,” Robert told him. “Including Miss Fraser. She's the one with whom you share the shower?”

“Ah, yes.” Bruce grimaced. “Where are they off to at the moment?”

“In the kitchen. The Glasgow fellow, Thayer, just
returned. Everyone is talking at once in there, trying to tell him what's happened, and why the base of the hill is covered with police vehicles. When it winds down to a soft roar, Gina Browne is going to copy the documents and give me the original ones. She's trying to pull up the corporation on the Internet again, but naturally, there is no such place anymore, so we'll have to get the cyber experts on it. You were right, their papers look absolutely legal and authentic, but I suppose that's not a difficult thing to accomplish, if you're of a criminal bent.”

“They're making copies here?”

“I guess you haven't wandered into Mrs. Browne's domain,” Robert said. “She has a computer, printer, fax and mobile phone line. Quite an amazing display of ‘have electronics, will travel,' actually.”

Bruce nodded, not really surprised. “They trust you, then, I take it?” he queried.

Robert's eyes sparkled for a moment. “Well, there is the fact that I'm accepted by the dozen crime-scene experts down the hill, though I'm pretty sure that Mrs. Browne called Edinburgh and checked on my credentials.”

Bruce smiled ruefully. “Well, good. I think they really believe that I own the place now, too.”

Robert arched a brow in amusement.

“Was anyone able to glean anything more from the site?” Bruce asked him.

Robert shook his head. “Not at the moment. It appears that the remains must have washed up very recently. Darrow is actually excited, which is something I don't think he gets to feel often when he's found a body—or pieces of one. Due to our discoveries of the
past, I made a very thorough search of the area myself. I guess I was actually hoping to find Annie O'Hara, but there was no sign of her—or anything else, for that matter. As for footprints, I could follow those of Miss Fraser, and the tracks of our officers, but nothing else. They were still scouring the area when I left—since all those men are there, it seemed a fine time for a very thorough search—but so far, nothing. Not a cigar butt, a broken branch, nothing. Darkness is on us, though. The woods do need a good scouring, but Jonathan is right about one thing—it's a damned big forest.”

“That it is,” Bruce agreed.

Robert angled his head, regarding Bruce carefully.

“Jonathan got your goat tonight, didn't he?”

Bruce offered his friend a slow, wry smile. “The rumor that our local hero murdered his wife in a fit of rage and jealousy has been around for years. Perhaps it's true. Maybe these bones will turn out to be those of one of my ancestors. It's only Jonathan's pleasure at turning my blood kin into a monster that riles me.” He shrugged. “We're still friends, I believe. Have been, all these years.”

“He's jealous of you, always has been.”

“That's foolish. I may own a derelict castle and bear the old title, but it doesn't mean all that much these days.”

“I don't think it's the title that bothers him,” Robert said.

“Then what?”

“Your reputation,” Robert said. “For solving a national mystery, all those years ago.”

“I've been out of it for a decade.”

“And he's still a small-town constable.”

“Well, if he harbors ill will, it's his problem, and his foolishness,” Bruce said, shaking his head.

“So you won't be greatly disturbed…if this proves to be the long-gone Annalise?”

“A mystery will have been solved,” Bruce said simply. “Whatever it was, I can't change history.”

“Nae, not a one of us can do that, ancient or recent,” Robert said with a sigh, and Bruce knew he was thinking that if they could only catch the killer, they might well change the history of life for many a poor lass. “I've been invited to supper,” Robert told him suddenly. “I was sent to retrieve you.”

“Ah.”

“But Miss Fraser is still upstairs?”

“I believe she'll be right down.”

“Is she doing all right?” Robert asked.

“Yes, she seems to be just fine. Come on, we'll head on into the kitchen.”

Robert was watching him somewhat strangely, but Bruce ignored the look and led the way. By the time they reached the door that led through the secondary hall, they could smell the succulent aroma of the meal. Pushing through the doorway to the kitchen, Bruce found the table handsomely set, Gina pouring wine, Ryan at her side, Kevin carving the roast and Thayer and David rushing about to find the proper bowls for the accompanying vegetables. With a tray of meat and tiny pearl onions in his hands, Kevin turned and saw Bruce.

“Laird MacNiall, thanks for coming down. I know it's been a sad and traumatic day, but while we live and breathe, we have to eat, right?”

“Right. It looks like a fine supper, Kevin,” Bruce said.

Kevin set the tray on the table.

“Where on earth is Toni?” David fretted, setting down a plate of broccoli, then running his fingers absently through his dark hair.

“On her way, I'm certain,” Bruce assured him.

“I think we'll really have to start without her,” Gina murmured. “It will all grow cold.”

“I think I should go up,” David said.

Kevin set a hand on his arm and nodded. “You should.”

“They'll just take longer, chatting up there together,” Thayer warned as David started out.

“David is very dear to her,” Gina said, finishing with the last glass, surveying the table, seeming pleased. “If she's at all upset…well, David is close to her.”

“We're all close to her!” Ryan protested, staring at his wife.

“Yes, dear. But David and she… Just let David handle it,” Gina said. “Inspector Chamberlain, we're so pleased that you could stay!” she added, smiling at Robert as he walked in.

“Not to mention, grateful for your help,” Ryan said. “Especially when the fact that we've been fleeced can hardly mean much in comparison to the plethora of bodies to be found about.”

“A plethora! Ryan!” Gina said, horrified by his choice of words.

“I'm sorry. I mean, bodies…in the forest. Ancient, new… Sorry!” Ryan said again.

Robert waved a hand in the air. “Actually, I won't be handling your problem myself—we have people who
specialize in computer fraud and international crime. And you needn't be grateful to me in any capacity. Enforcing the law is my work, in no matter what capacity. We'll get your case into the right hands, which, admittedly, are not my own. The supper smells delicious.”

“Thank you!” Kevin said, beaming.

“Actually, he's the meat wizard,” Ryan protested. “Potatoes and broccoli are creations perfected by my lovely wife,” Ryan informed him.

“To everyone involved in the effort, it looks—and smells—quite divine,” Robert said. He flashed a glance at Bruce, indicating that he considered his household of Americans quite an amusement.

“Robert, we put you here, opposite the laird of the castle!” Gina said, trying for a light note.

The group assembled, minus David and Toni for the time being. Kevin cleared his throat. “Shall we say grace?” he asked, looking at Thayer for guidance.

Thayer offered an amused smile. “If you wish.”

“Um…sure,” Ryan murmured. He lowered his head, but his eyes were open as he looked around.

They were a fairly spiritual group, Bruce thought, de cent folk, but not necessarily the ones in the front of the church every Sunday morning. Like Thayer, he was slightly amused, and yet he admired the group for trying to gauge the proper etiquette for a Scottish Sunday meal.

But no one spoke.

Kevin looked around, apparently a bit panicked, since it had been his idea.

“Um…is it proper for the laird of the castle to speak?” he inquired.

“I think it would be quite proper for the American cook,” Bruce said.

“Ah,” Kevin agreed. “Okay. Dear Lord, thank you for this meal, for the generosity and kindness of our host and for the help of our host's friends. We're aware that there is famine and real tragedy in the world—like the poor old soul found in the forest this time, and those other girls—but please, oh, Lord, help us in our endeavors, as well. We really meant all the best. We love Scotland! We mean to help—”

“Amen!” Gina cut in firmly, glaring at Kevin.

Robert simply laughed out loud. “A lovely grace, Kevin,” he said. “But don't you have the same one in the States that we have here? Simply quicker. ‘God is great, God is good, thank you God, for this food. Let's eat'?”

Kevin flushed as the rest of them laughed.

“Let me pass the meat!” Gina said quickly.

 

Toni had just set the hair dryer down when she heard the knock at her door and David's voice. “Toni?”

She opened the door. “Hey, I'm sorry. I've taken too long, huh?”

“Kid, you can take all night if you want. I came up to make sure that you were all right. The concern about a hot meal doesn't really compare to the discovery of bones in the forest,” he assured her sympathetically.

“I keep saying this, though no one seems to believe me, but I'm all right,” she said. “It's just…”

“Just what?” he asked gently.

She walked on into the room and sat on the side of the bed. He joined her, slipping an arm around her shoulders.

“Are you still envisioning a long-dead Scotsman with a bloody sword?” he asked.

She shook her head quickly, but then flashed him a glance.

“David,” she murmured.

“Talk to me,” he said. “That's why I'm here. Look, you're a good actress. You have everyone else convinced that you're relieved because it wasn't that missing girl, turned up dead. But I know you, and I know you're upset about those bones.”

“She's dead,” Toni murmured.