The discussion about her mother’s ghost gave him a bit of pause. Max had never liked ghost stories as a child and preferred to deal with what and whom he could see. Meg believed, so he would keep an open mind. So many people over the past years had claimed to have seen the ghost—even in the daytime—there could be something to it. His mother’s attitude toward the possibility of a ghost startled him. She was very matter-of-fact, not easily scared at all.
“Please stay close to me,” he whispered tenderly. He wondered when he had dismissed his own caution regarding Meg. Perhaps it was the moment he had heard about the baby. They had once spoken of having children together—so much so, he could still summon his mind’s image of what their babies might look like—a blonde girl and a dark-headed boy, both with green eyes like their mother. To find out she had lost a baby girl, both broke his heart and angered him at the same time. A child of Meg’s had died. He could not imagine the callous disregard she had endured. “Are you still feeling up to this?” He came short of asking if she needed to sit down, thinking it too solicitous. Maggie would rebel.
“I am quite fine, Max.” Her body shuddered despite her words. “Let us get this over with.”
“My apologies.” His tone was sincere. “Are you worried we might run into Slade?”
“I do not know. The hair on the back of my neck has suddenly gone prickly. That usually means something is wrong. I have learned the hard way to follow my instincts.” She looked about the back hall, wearing a concerned expression. “Would you mind if I go to Father’s study first? I remembered something, and I would like to check to see if my memory is correct.”
Max regarded her. She was shivering, but it was freezing in the house. He wondered how she had stayed warm while she was here with her dog. They had not used a fireplace for fear of being discovered. The cold inside the house was damp and fierce.
He interrupted his mother and Nizal, who were discussing the house. “Mother, since you are well-acquainted with the house, would you mind showing Mr. Nizal the upstairs area? Meg has asked me to help her with something. We shall join you in a few minutes.” He hoped Meg would not make a liar of him. He could not explain his need for a few minutes with her.
His mother pinned him with a look and lowered her voice to barely above a whisper. “Son, we had hoped to make this a quick trip. It will be dark soon, and we want to get back to the manor to get warm and eat.” More audibly, she added with a wry smile, “Certainly, my dear.” She nodded at Mr. Nizal and moving toward the stairs. The investigator followed behind her with his notebook and pen in hand.
Max returned to Meg, who had picked up Shep and was holding him close. “I am trying to keep him warm. His fur is not as thick as most animals’,” she explained. Shep gave her a kiss and placed his head on her shoulder, tucking it beneath the fur of her pelisse.
“Where did you want to go?” he asked her.
“I thought of a place I should check in the study to see if Father’s key is there.”
“You could not access the box when you were here?”
“I had not thought it immediately necessary. I did not imagine there would be an intruder.” A shudder shook her. “I have imagined many scenarios…namely, was he here the whole time we were here? How did he get in here? My mind keeps replaying sounds and scenarios.” Her mouth twitched slightly. “Perhaps we should start looking. We only have a few hours of light.” She lightly patted his arm.
Meg’s slight touch addled his mind, rendering him motionless. As she moved past him, her scent stirred his senses, and he followed her into the study, suddenly aware of their isolation from the rest of the group. His desire aroused as he walked behind breathing deeply of her fragrance, his heart hammering in his chest.
Meg held her dog close and meandered past groups of shelved books, occasionally pulling one, before replacing it and stepping to the next panel of books.
“Are you searching for something specific?” he asked.
“Yes. I think Romeo and Juliet. But that is the only book I recall in the stack.”
“Two star-crossed lovers. Surely we can be more.”
“Perhaps,” she retorted, her green eyes sparkling with laughter.
He was captive. “I would like to hold you. May I?” Max took Shep from her arms and placed him next to her feet. Shep arched his back, then pushed forward into a stretch and whimpered softly before curling up on her slippers. The dog’s small cry reminded him that his injuries were almost as bad as Meg’s, and Max momentarily felt bad about displacing him.
Meg looked up at him with a worried expression. At a loss for words, he pulled her closer and lifted her chin. “You are a beautiful woman, Meg. There is something I want, and I cannot seem to help myself. I want to kiss you.” His thumb drew small circles on her skin. “Mere minutes are too long to wait to taste your lips.” He lowered his lips to hers, softly at first. A soft groan of pleasure escaped her, and he pressed harder, pulling her closer to him. He needed this. It had become too difficult to see her and not touch her. He had missed this. He had missed her in
