Текст книги "Where All the Dead Lie"

Автор книги: J. T. Ellison

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Taylor waited patiently at the back door for Memphis to retrieve his vehicle. The day was brisk, clouds scuttering through a grayish-blue sky, the threat of precipitation imminent. Rain first, then as the temperature dropped and the air turned colder, snow. Memphis wanted to be back before three, sunset was at three-thirty this far north, and the snow was going to kick in by then.

She heard the engine of the car roar, and wondered what sort of surprise Memphis had in store for her now. She loved cars. It was one of the few things she and her father had in common. Though she chose to drive a truck at home, a good engine could get her heart racing just as much as Baldwin’s touch. She took a second to send him another text, telling him she’d be out of range for the rest of the day. He would touch base when he had the time. She’d tried twice, which was all that mattered.

The roar of the engine grew louder, accompanied by the tires crunching on the soft, loose stone gravel that made up the parking lot surrounding the castle. She almost gasped when the car came into view. Memphis was driving a pristine dark gray Aston Martin DB9. She knew off the top of her head that it retailed for over $180,000.

She didn’t care about the driver, she just wanted to get in and let that car take her wherever it wanted to go.

Memphis pulled to a stop, then got out and grinned. “Like her?”

You know I do. A bit flashy for you though, isn’t she?

“My one indulgence. And I can hardly drive around London with her. It wouldn’t send the right message to the people I work with. I have to leave her here. Are you ready to take a drive?”

He walked around to the passenger side and opened the door.

She didn’t hesitate.

You bet.

She took three steps down the stairs, put her hands in the pocket of her jacket to warm them. As she reached the last step, a sharp pain in her middle finger made her gasp. She whipped her left hand out of the jacket pocket, shocked to see she was bleeding.

“Ouch!” She’d blurted it out without thinking.

Memphis was at her side immediately. “Whoa, what happened?”

She stared at the cut on her finger. It looked like something was stuck in the wound. Memphis grabbed her hand, twisting it to and fro, then handed her a handkerchief.

“I must need bins, I don’t see anything in there.”

She tried dotting the blood but felt another searing pain. At a loss for what to do, she shrugged and stuck the offended digit into her mouth. She used her tongue to feel the cut. There was a hard chunk of something in it. Gently, lightly biting and sucking, she maneuvered it free. She pulled it from her mouth with her fingers, relieved that the sharp pain diminished.

“What is that?” Memphis asked.

Thank goodness it was her left hand: writing would be a pain with an open wound.

Glass, I think. In the pocket of my jacket.

Concern prominent on his face, Memphis bustled her back inside, made her take off the jacket. Trixie was in the next room; Taylor could hear her dressing down one of the serving maids. Memphis called for her. When she arrived, he sent her to the medicine kit for a plaster. Then he took Taylor’s coat and turned the pocket inside out.

There was a fine layer of shiny grit lining the pocket. In the hall light it was easy to see the miniature shards of glass.

“What in the hell?” he said. “How could that have happened? This is a brand-new coat. It was just delivered yesterday. Damn, I can’t get all this out.”

Taylor was still sucking on her finger.

Some sort of mistake in the factory, probably.

“Look at this. There’s actually a cut in the lining. They’re going to have a very unhappy call from me this afternoon. I’ll just be a moment.”

He hurried into another room, was gone for a few minutes. He and Trixie arrived back at the same time, she holding a plaster and bottle of antiseptic cream, Memphis carrying a tattered brown canvas jacket with a thick flannel lining.

“Here you go. This is one of mine. You can wear it today, it should keep you warm enough.”

They got Taylor all fixed up, making much too big a deal out of the tiny cut. Trixie seemed especially upset by the matter, as if she’d had control of the coat arriving from the store ruined. She told Memphis she’d handle getting a replacement straightaway, then disappeared with the offending garment tucked under her arm like a dead duck. Taylor realized she hadn’t made eye contact, and thought that was strange. Maybe Trixie knew Memphis had made a late-night visit to her room and disapproved. Maybe she’d put the ground glass in Taylor’s pocket to warn her off.

Oh, that was crazy. It was obviously just a mistake at the factory, or the shipping company. Some glass broke near the box, that was all.

Bandaged and redressed, they tried again. Taylor was less flustered about it all than Memphis, who was growling as loudly as his car’s engine.

The seats of the Aston Martin were soft dove-gray leather, and she angled herself in, feeling foolish for causing such a stir. It was bizarre, the glass, but hardly a capital offense.

Their second attempt was more successful than the first. Ten minutes later, Memphis turned onto the A9, heading toward Inverness.

Memphis chatted, desultorily, of the land around them. Taylor was struck by the stark beauty, the ever-changing landscape that snuck from hills to mountains to lochs to forests at a dizzying rate. The road signs made her laugh. They were so very helpful. Her favorite read Tiredness Kills, Take A Break. There was an area of ruined trees, akin to what she was used to seeing at home when a tornado moved through. Memphis explained that they’d recently had a century storm, with gale force winds and drifting snow.

As they drove higher, the clouds came down and kissed the tops of the mountains. A falcon perched on the lay-by sign, gloomily watching the cars pass. His dejected look made Taylor sad. Something just didn’t feel right about all of this. It was beautiful, and a treat, but she really should be in Nashville, dealing with her life instead of running away from it. Maybe coming here wasn’t such a great idea after all. Though her morning with Maddee had been full of revelations, making herself so available to Memphis, leading him into thinking that she was here for more than just a rest, was going to get her in trouble.

Oh, stop it already, Taylor. Getting a little cut on your finger isn’t worth ruining your mood. You haven’t done a single thing wrong. It is high time you stop punishing yourself.

Memphis doled out bits of history to her as they passed by various landmarks. After twenty minutes, he took a round about and exited off to the north, toward a place called Grantown-on-Spey. She loved the name. So very Scottish. That cheered her up. The town itself came into view, a lovely resort village. She could smell smoke and peat from the fire places. It was obviously an affluent area; the architecture was some of the finest she’d seen. The roads were well paved, and the whole town was done up for Christmas. It looked quite elegant. Memphis explained that this was a prime water sports and caravanning spot. But in the winter, it curled in on itself like a dead leaf, waiting for the warmer weather to break it free.

“Do you need to stop?” he asked. “We can get some tea.”

She shook her head. If she saw any more tea this morning she may float away.

Memphis left the town behind, driving into the forest. The road got narrower, the pavement breaking in parts. It got continually worse for several miles.

Where are we going?

“To the family seat.”

The family seat?

“Yes. This is my history. We’re not all ghosts and castles, you know.”

She couldn’t get her bearings. The trees were so thick that the sun didn’t shine through, and the cloud cover made it impossible to tell which direction was north. Memphis seemed like he was making turns at random, taking her deeper and deeper into the woods. The road narrowed to one lane. There was nothing out here, no villages, no signs. Just the extensive flora and fauna of the Highlands. She was hopelessly lost.

She finally saw a sign, tiny, brown, with an arrow pointing to a church. Memphis said, “Nearly there,” and turned left.

She didn’t think it was possible for the road to get any narrower, but it did.

“In the summer I can’t bring this car out here. The branches hang over the road and scratch the paint.”

She could see how it would be more suited to an off-road vehicle. They were practically on a dirt track.

The road twisted, and the church advertised on the sign came into view. It was stone, collapsed, untended. A ruin. She felt suddenly sorry. No sacred place should go unloved. Memphis drove by it without a glance, then slowed to a stop.

“We go on foot the rest of the way,” he said.

She followed him from the vehicle, glad to have his coat for warmth. The air was crisp and she heard water running. They walked for about a hundred yards, around the bend, and she caught her breath when the scene unfolded in front of her. A quaint but substantial stone bridge, bordered by a huge waterfall.

It was beautiful.

Memphis gave her a moment to take in the scene. “You can only truly see the waterfall during the winter. In the summer, it’s in full leaf here and hidden from view unless you’re under it, in the river. Great fishing in some of the pools that filter off of it.”

She was reluctant to take her hands out of her pockets to write; the chill was sneaking under the edges of her coat already.

Wow. It’s stunning.

“This is Dulsie Bridge.”

She turned to look at him, puzzled.

Wait a minute. Your family is named for a bridge?

“Yes. It’s a very important bridge.”

But a bridge? You don’t have a town or a village or a county, or…something?

“That old church back there. But it fell down two centuries ago.”

Ah, I see. Okay then.

Memphis laughed. “No, you don’t. But that’s all right. If an army needed to cross this land, there was no way across the river. They built this in 1255 to allow English troops to move across the land. You’ll know that Highsmythe is a British name, not Scottish, yes?”

She nodded.

“We were granted the lands early, and left them untended for many years. But when the fourth earl came north to view his properties and collect rents, he immediately saw the advantages to be had. A way to get even richer than he already was. He built onto the castle with the proceeds from the deal, then settled into his life in the Highlands, far away from England’s rule. Married young Isabella and gained even more land. And the rest, as they say, is history.”

That’s some story.

“And more importantly, Robert Burns stayed here once, too, while he was visiting Strathspey. He took a liking to Mrs. Grant.”

Ah. ‘My love is like a red, red rose.’

“You know him?”

She smiled at him.

Everyone knows who Robert Burns is, Memphis.

He took her hand and put it to his heart. “‘So fair art thou, my bonnie lass, So deep in love am I, And I will love thee still, my dear, Till a’ the seas gang dry.’”

His face was hopeful, smiling lightly. Taylor bit her lip. She knew he was just quoting from the poem, that it was another’s words. But did he?

She didn’t know what to say.

“Taylor, I—”

She held up her hand. God, not being able to talk to him right now was killing her.

Stop, Memphis. Please. Before you say something you might regret.

He turned back to the river. She could see he was fighting with himself. There was more he wanted to say, more that he wanted to do. She could feel the frustration coming off him in waves.

She was frustrated as well. She didn’t know what she wanted. She’d always thought she did, but the past few weeks, with Baldwin pushing her away and Memphis pulling her in… She kicked at a rock, watched it spill over the edge and down into the torrent of water below. Her head hurt.

Memphis turned to her, his eyes dark. “I won’t say it, then. But I will do it.”

He took two steps toward her, so quickly that she didn’t have a chance to back away, put his arms around her, and pulled her to him. Without hesitating, he lowered his face to hers.

Their lips met urgently. She exhaled into him, getting lost in the kiss. The last time this had happened, she’d pulled away. But right now, with no one watching, no one to see, she didn’t want to.

He put one hand behind her neck and the other around her waist, pulling her closer, deeper. She couldn’t breathe, didn’t want to breathe, didn’t want to think, didn’t want the kiss to end. It was perfect, hard and soft at all the right moments, the rhythm moving in a way that told her they would be good together in more ways than just this.

A little voice spoke out from the back of her head—Taylor, you are losing yourself….

She told it to shut up. She’d been lying to herself, to Baldwin, to Sam. She’d come to Scotland, for better or for worse, to figure out what sort of glamour Memphis had put on her, whether it was something real, or something destined for failure. Now, standing on his family’s lands, at the very heart of his history, was as good a time as any to find out.

She was pinned against the stone wall. Without breaking the kiss, he put his hands under her bottom and picked her up, rocking her body against his as he did, forcing her to grab hold of his arms for balance. He set her carefully on the wall. He was as hard as he looked from the outside, muscles tense, like granite under his clothes. She pulled his shirt from his pants, got her hands under the fabric. Felt his chest, his smooth stomach. He yanked up her sweater, unsnapped her bra with one hand. Her breasts spilled out into the cold air. He caught them in his hands, brought them to his mouth. He moaned, low in his throat, and she felt the answering cry start deep within her.

Oh, no. She had to stop now. Before it was too late. But his hands were going lower, expertly moving down her ribs, unbuttoning her jeans, plunging into her panties. It felt so good. So amazingly hot… No, no, no, no, she had to stop. Stop. Stop, stop, stop, stop.

“Stop.” There, she’d said it aloud.

And Memphis froze.

Two heartbeats passed. He had her at quite a disadvantage, and knew it. He flicked his forefinger and she nearly came undone. She forced her mouth closed, gently removed his hand, pulled down her sweater, and slid off the wall.

She could hear the ragged breaths that escaped from his mouth. She was panting as well. She put her hand over her mouth to try and calm herself.

He whispered the words. “‘Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear, and the rocks melt wi’ the sun! And I will love thee still, my dear, while the sands of life shall run.’”

When she didn’t respond, he put on his Scottish brogue for her. “Aye, Burns is a bonny poet.”

“Aye,” she whispered. The moment was gone. Over. Her lips were raw, her skin felt like she’d been brushed from head to toe with sandpaper.

Hand still over her mouth, she met his eyes. They were deeply blue. She realized his changed colors when he was aroused. And he was most mightily aroused. The outline in his pants was hard to miss.

She’d owed him more than this. She just didn’t know how much of herself she had to give.

“I’m… It’s… I can’t… I don’t…”

Shit. She took a deep breath, still staring into his bottomless eyes, and forced the words out.

“I’m sorry.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Memphis looked out over the rushing water. “These lands were important. You needed to cross through here to get to Inverness. My family controlled the land. Simple as that. They didn’t live here, they just owned it. They owned a lot of it. From here all the way back down to the estate. But as the years passed, and allegiances changed, the lands were stolen, or taken legally, or traded for women. We still own about five thousand acres up here.”

Neutral territory. He had the decency to turn and look away. She took advantage of the moment to hook up her bra. She wasn’t quite sure what to say, decided to stick with his lead. Her notebook had fallen in the dirt by the wall. She retrieved it, brushing it off before writing.

So this is Highsmythe country. You should put up a sign.

“Stop your teasing. I just thought you’d think it was pretty.”

I do. God, Memphis, if you only knew. It’s lovely.

He pushed off the wall, held out a hand as if nothing had happened, as if that very hand hadn’t just been making rather indecent proposals against her body.

“Excellent. Let’s go see if we can find Nessie, shall we?”

We’re going to Loch Ness?

She couldn’t help herself; she knew her smile went from ear to ear. It seemed wrong to be so excited to leave this place, but she couldn’t wait to get away.

“What, did you think I drove you all the way up here to look at a bridge?”

She had to make this better.

I think you drove me up here to take advantage of me, that’s what I think. Lovely area, pretty bridge, private waterfall, love poems. You’re a naughty boy, Memphis.

He smiled at her again, showing his teeth this time. They walked back to the car. It was as if nothing had happened. He was back to his normal tone of voice, and her heartbeat had finally slowed.

Memphis turned the engine over and slid the shifter into gear. “We should have just enough time to have luncheon at the Dores Inn before we take a drive down the loch. Fish and chips suit you? They have some of the best in the Highlands.”

“Mmm.”

They drove back out to the main road in silence. She was starting to sense Memphis’s moods, and noticed that they were mercurial, at best. There was something bothering him. The joking, jovial, sensitive man from the bridge was gone. Not that she was surprised. It was probably her fault. She’d given in to temptation, then yanked it away. Maybe that wasn’t fair, but had he any right to be upset about it? He’d taken advantage, too.

The silence grew too loud for her to bear.

Are you mad?

“At you? No. Of course not.” There was no sarcasm in his tone, but he didn’t look at her, kept his blue eyes firmly forward on the road.

You’re awfully quiet.

He sighed deeply, both hands gripping the steering wheel of the Aston. “I don’t know if I should tell you this.”

Tell me what, Memphis?

He didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice was strained, and he wouldn’t look at her.

“Taylor. I am hopelessly, desperately in love with you. Everything about you. And I know you feel something for me as well. You can’t deny that.”

She didn’t bother. Her body had given away all her secrets when they kissed. Yes, she did want him. But love? No. Not that. Not ever that.

She shook her head. He took that as a sign that she was agreeing with him, reached over and took her hand. Damn Brit, misinterpreting everything.

“If this was a mistake, I’m very sorry. I hadn’t planned it at all, to be honest. We had tickets for the noon ferry tour around Loch Ness. I was driving by the roundabout and stopping at the bridge seemed like…the right thing to do.”

She sensed he was telling the truth, that he hadn’t planned to make a move on her. She didn’t care what he said, he wasn’t over Evan, not by a long shot. And she was afraid he was going to try to make her a substitute. She’d be a poor one, at that, but safe. And very much alive, as she’d proven less than a quarter hour ago.

You’re forgiven. But Memphis, I’m engaged. We can’t do this.

God, she was going to have to burn these pages as soon as she got back to the castle.

“You’re wrong, Taylor. We most certainly can. But it’s not right for me to take advantage of your situation, either. So you’ll accept my apology, my lady. Please.”

Of course.

She touched him on the back of the hand, briefly, amazed at the shock that ran through her body.

You stupid, stupid girl.

Memphis changed the subject as they drew closer to Inverness, talking of the history of the land they were driving through. The Jacobites had fought and died here, on Culloden field, which appeared on her left. Taylor knew the sad history of that battle. The last stand of Bonnie Prince Charlie’s men, ragged, wounded, starving. They fought for their freedom on the moor, died there, nearly all of them, and were buried where they lay. She saw the blue and the red flags from the road—the lines demarking where the British and Scots had stood, facing one another across Drumossie Moor in the cold dawn, before the final charge that would end so many lives.

She felt her skin crawl, goose bumps parading up and down her arms. She was surrounded by death. All she wanted to do was get back to the castle, away from this sadness.

But Memphis was determined, and fifteen minutes later, they pulled into the parking lot of the Dores Inn, on the northernmost tip of Loch Ness. It was eerily beautiful, mist rising off the water, the gray skies lending themselves to her introspection. A rosebush outside the door still sported the remnants of heavy pink roses.

The building was warm and cozy, a fireplace pouring out heat. The staff was obviously happy to see them; it was certainly too chilly to be doing much besides staying inside, warm by a fire. This wasn’t exactly high tourist season, though there were people out sailing the loch—Taylor could see the tour boats powering down the murky water. It must be freezing out there, especially with the breeze.

Taylor needed a little something to take the edge off, so she ordered a Guinness. Took a Percocet. Let the edges blur. Tried to stop watching his hands. Tried to forget the bridge.

Memphis made an effort to be cheerful, but he too was distracted. They ate in silence, a strange veil of discomfort surrounding them. The food was delicious, though she couldn’t finish it all. After an interminable thirty minutes, they bundled up and went back into the cold to drive down the loch a bit then head home. Taylor was more than ready for this side trip to be over.

Memphis turned the car south, pointed out a few landmarks, then grew quiet. After a few moments, he said, “I’m sorry. I should never have taken you to the bridge. I’m not quite sure what I was thinking.”

She didn’t know what she was thinking, either. Or what she’d been thinking when she succumbed to his charms. She rubbed her forehead, feeling the small scar on her temple. Her headache was worsening. She slipped another Percocet into her hand, and a Fioricet. There was a bottle of Highland Spring in her bag. She downed the pills and grabbed her notebook.

Memphis, I’m getting tired. Why don’t we just head back?

He smiled in relief, as if he’d needed her permission to abort their journey.

“Of course. Let’s go home.”

They were down near Fort Augustus. It took over an hour to make it back to Dulsie Castle.

They passed the time on a much safer topic. The case Memphis was working on, the enigmatic Urq, and the three missing girls. Crime was the one place Memphis and Taylor truly had common ground.

When he pulled through the gate that led to the castle grounds, it was three o’clock. The snow had held off, and pink streaks of sunset were burgeoning through the clouds to the west.

“Let me make it up to you,” Memphis said suddenly.

Taylor just wanted to go lie down and let the aching stop. She wasn’t all that sure she wanted to indulge him anymore, but good manners and a bit of curiosity won out.

All right. What do you have in mind?

“Follow me.” He jumped out of the car, rushed around to her side and got the door open. “Button up your coat, it’s getting cold now.”

Cold was an understatement. It was downright frigid, and damp to boot. She felt it through the coat, carefully put her hands in the pockets, gun-shy after the morning’s adventure. In answer, her finger gave a dull throb.

“We’re heading up here,” he said, then strolled across the gravel forecourt onto a small path. Fifteen feet in, there was a large arched wooden gate, over eight feet tall. Memphis unlocked it and beckoned for her to step inside so he could lock it behind them. The path widened and started up a slight incline. Taylor could see a statue ahead, probably a football field length away. She looked back at the house, realized that there was a straight shot from the front door up this rise.

What’s that?

“You’ll see,” Memphis replied.

She was a little tired of surprises, but followed dutifully anyhow. There was a seven-foot-high stone wall to her left. She couldn’t figure out what was inside. A graveyard, maybe? That uneasy feeling she had from the afternoon returned with a vengeance.

A few minutes later they were at the top of the hill. The statue was of a woman, holding a bow and arrow in one hand. A small owl perched on her right shoulder. It only took Taylor a moment to place her; the plaque at the woman’s feet gave it away.

Athena?

“Yes. She is my father’s favorite. And mine, of course. The sixth earl had this statue commissioned from a minor sculptor, Rama Nardi, in Florence back in the 1500s. He apprenticed with Niccolò di Piero Lamberti, but never lived up to his initial promise. He had a problem with scale that he couldn’t overcome. Look at her feet. They’re much too large for her body. Nardi died before his twenty-fifth birthday, sadly. This is only one of ten pieces of his known to exist in the world. There are four more inside the wall.”

The statue was old, weathered. Small cracks at the base had been repaired.

Doesn’t that make it valuable?

“Certainly. But Nardi wasn’t terribly famous, or good, for that matter. And we’re in a private area of the estate. It would be hard to walk off with her. She weighs quite a bit.”

What is all this?

“Come see,” Memphis said, and steered her around the statue, back to the stone wall.

She was able to see over the edge now. Extensive, beautiful gardens, bordering a small lake in the center.

A secret garden.

It’s lovely.

She could tell he was pleased to surprise her with something good this time.

“Isn’t it? There are several sections, tiers, really. The public is allowed to enter at the bottom but can only come up halfway. There is a small house on the grounds, back over here, where the gardeners live. They’re a couple. Suited to it. It’s been in his family for a couple of centuries. He’s a Dulsie legacy– Oh, see the swans?”

She could, three of them. Two white and one gray, all three big.

“Mute swans. That’s William and Harry. Harry’s short for Harriet, of course. And the gray one, that’s their cygnet, Charles. He’s not quite full-grown, he’s just starting to turn. They’ve been here for years. I like to visit them while I’m home, though Harry tried to bite me once when I went in the water.”

He was trying to distract her. She smiled at him, nodded. She understood. She wasn’t comfortable, either.

The sun was setting now, nearly gone, and the first flakes of snow started to fall. He turned her around and pointed out the view from the other side of Athena, a glorious spill into the valley below. Taylor took a deep breath, and felt the flakes hit her tongue.

I love it.

Memphis pressed something into her hand. It was an iron skeleton key, big and old-fashioned. “Then you must come here anytime you’d like. As you’ve no doubt realized, your rooms face the mountains, not the gardens, which is why you hadn’t seen them yet. But it’s yours to explore. Taylor, I think it’s best… I’m afraid I need to head back to London tomorrow. I have work to do. Will you be all right here on your own?”

Her emotions split in two. She didn’t want him to go, yet she didn’t want him to stay. It would be easier without him around, she was sure of it. She shoved the key in her back pocket and wrote quickly, heedless of her degenerating scrawl. Got it on paper before she changed her mind.

Of course. That’s why I came, isn’t it? To work with Maddee and heal. This is perfect. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate everything you’ve done, Memphis. I’m sorry today was so…difficult.

He shook his head. “That was my fault. I don’t know what possessed me to take you to the bridge.” He brushed a piece of snow from her hair. “It wasn’t all bad. No sense in pretending it didn’t happen. Are you sorry?”

She looked at the ground. Am I?

We stopped. Nothing to be sorry for.

Was that true? Would Baldwin feel that way if he knew? The thought of him, his disappointment in her—another person disappointed in her—stabbed her heart. He will never know, Taylor. You will not hurt him like that. This is between you and Memphis.

They were at the bottom of the path now, and the snow was picking up. Memphis borrowed the key from Taylor, let them out and locked the gate behind them. The castle lights were dimmed, only a few private quarters lit up. Saving electricity, Taylor supposed. They both stopped and looked at it, so forlorn, so alone, so stoic. Just like the family contained inside.

Memphis broke the spell. “You’re just not the kind of woman people get over easily,” he said, shrugging. “So, let’s see what Cook has prepared for dinner.”