Kresley Cole - If You Desire

Her voice soft, she asked, "Did lying to me sit ill with you?"

"Never lied to you."

She bit her lip, frowning as she clearly thought back. Then she said, "My father did try to have Grey killed?" At Hugh's hesitant nod, she asked, "Was Grey right to say that you were favored over him?"

He ran a hand over his face. "I dinna believe so before. I thought Grey got the jobs he did because he was a bloody decade older than me and had years more experience. Now…I think unconsciously, Weyland might have."

Her eyelids were getting heavy though he knew she was burning to ask dozens more questions. "And what about Grey's comment about…you and me?"

After a lengthy hesitation, he grated, "True."

His answer seemed to hurt her more than anything. "How long, Hugh?"

"Since that summer. Same as you."

She met his eyes. "Do I know all your secrets now?"

"Aye, lass. Every single one of them." When she fell silent, he said, "Jane, will you no' tell me what you're thinking about all this…about me?"

She answered his question with one of her own: "Will what happened today change anything for us?"

He finally made himself shake his head.

"Then nothing will." She turned away from him, murmuring, "So it doesn't matter what I think."

Hugh shot up in bed, wracked by a nightmare worse than any he'd ever had. The piercing pain in his ribs and head was still unfamiliar, momentarily confusing him when he woke. He frowned at his surroundings, rubbing at his eyes. It was well into the afternoon. Had he slept through the entire night and morning?

His body was still shaking; his sheets were soaked with sweat. He'd dreamed of Ethan's fiancée on the cold flagstones, head framed by her blood shining in the moonlight. But instead of seeing her glazed, sightless eyes, Hugh saw Jane, cold and still in death. He shuddered just remembering it—

Where the hell is she?

When he heard her in her room, getting dressed, he let out a relieved breath. After rising in stages, he staggered to the basin, wetted a cloth, then ran it over himself to wash the chill sweat from his body.

Her light footsteps sounded in the hall outside his room as she made her way downstairs. He dressed as quickly as his injuries would allow, then followed. When he eased down the steps and into the kitchen, he found her motionless, staring blankly.

The first thing he noticed was that her bruise had darkened and spread since yesterday, and he flinched to see it. Then his gaze landed on the object of her rapt attention—theLeabhar .

He crossed to her side, silent. Even after all this time, the mysteries of the book still stunned even him. He wondered again how many of his forefathers had futilely tried to burn it or bury it in a locked chest, desperate to rid themselves of it. But theLeabhar was tied to his family like a disease passed down.

"It can't be the same," she said softly. "I threw it in the water."

"It is the same."

"S-someone must have dragged it up from the bottom. You got Mòrag's brothers to retrieve it."

"It's dry, Jane."

"This is a jest. It has to be," she insisted. "There's more than one book."

He opened to the last page with the distinct blood stains.

She gaped at it in horrified wonder. "I don't understand."

"This is why I dinna care if you threw it in. TheLeabhar always finds its way back to a MacCarrick. Do you still think this is naught but superstition?"

She rubbed her forehead. "I…I don't…" She was saved from answering when the loud nicker of horses sounded down the drive.

When he strode to the window, she asked, "Who can that be?"

A coach pulled to a stop at the front entrance. Hugh spied a man stepping out, and panic rioted in his chest. "It's…Quin."

Hugh knew his telegraph would have arrived at Weyland's yesterday morning; Quin must have set out at once, taking the daily rail to Scotland, then crossing the distance from a station to here by coach.

Quin could only be here for one of two reasons. He'd come to collect Jane—though Hugh hadn't asked him to, not yet.

Or he'd come to deliver news of Ethan.

Hugh turned to her, but she was already ascending the stairs, her back ramrod straight, no doubt thinking Hugh had telegraphed her cousin to rush up here and collect her at the first opportunity.

Before Quin could make the front steps, Hugh threw open the door and met him. "Why're you here?" he demanded. "Have you heard anything about Ethan?"

Quin answered, "We were just receiving the latest dispatches in London when I got your message." His expression was guarded. "We haven't been able to find him. I do know that witnesses heard gun report and saw two men yanking Ethan's body into an alley."

"To rob him or aid him?"

"We don't know—only that he'd definitely been shot."

Definitely been shot.Hugh stepped back to keep himself from pitching forward. He'd blindly held on to the belief that Ethan lived.

"He could still be alive," Quin said. "We're combing the area, and Weyland will let you know if anything breaks."

Hugh didn't trust others to look for his brother—he needed to be out there searching. His brows drew together. "But why areyou here?"

Quin answered, "Weyland wants the list destroyed or delivered into his possession."

"It's destroyed. Then why're you in a coach?"

"To retrieve Jane."

"I dinna send for you to do that."

"No, but you also didn't tell us that she was staying with you, just that she was safe here and had heard a great deal from Grey. As Weyland observed, your message said more than was written. Was I wrong to come for her?"

In the fall morning air, Hugh had begun sweating again, reminding him of haunting scenes from the night….

When he didn't answer, Quin snapped, "Goddamn it, man, make a decision and quickly. You're affecting others' lives now. And I won't watch you toying with my cousin any longer."

"No' toying with her," Hugh said quietly.

"Maybe not on purpose, but the end is still the same—and it's been going on for years!" Quin was the only male in Jane's generation and was like an older brother to all the cousins, but especially to Jane who was an only child. Hugh understood Quin's anger and didn't begrudge him for it. "I'm sure she's been too proud to tell you this, but Jane's been in love with you since she was young."

"I ken that." Unbelievable as it seemed to Hugh.

Quin didn't hide his look of surprise. "Then what is it? Is it because you think she can do better? I hate to tell you this, MacCarrick, but she can. I know what you are and what you've done." He lowered his voice. "Now that the list is destroyed, you're going right back to work. Would you leave her behind each week as you sneak off to make a kill? What kind of life would that be for her?"

"She knows about me. And if I kept her as my wife, I would no'continue ," he said, as if he was arguing to keep her.

"So you'll stay at home with her? Try to be domestic?" he asked, his voice full of derision. "How will you fit in with her friends and family, when you simply don't know how? My God, you couldn't sit a gathering before you turned killer."

He was right. Hugh had been too long in the field, and was sodifferent from the people in her life anyway.

"If you can't make a decision," Quin said, his tone low and seething, "I'll bloody make it for you!"

The dream, the ominous reminder of the book, Quin's arrival—what more did Hugh need to see to realize he had to let her go…?

Apparently, Hugh needed to see Jane at the door with her bags packed, her mien stoic, and jaw battered. Hell, after the events of yesterday and the sight of the book this morning, she likely wouldn't have stayed with him anyway.

Quin sucked in a breath at the sight of her face. "My God, Jane. Are you all right?" When she nodded, Quin shot Hugh a black look.