Chapter Four
Duncan liked the feel of Jessica’s hand in his. He liked kissing her even more, but he didn’t like how his heart tripped when he held her. That, and her penchant for unwittingly making him reevaluate his own life and afterlife didn’t sit well. It made him…uncomfortable.
As the Christmas tree and older couple appeared, he pushed aside his thoughts and focused on Holly. That’s what Jessica did. The woman seemed to have a one-track mind. Too bad he and she tended to be on different tracks.
Holly floated over the shoulder of Mrs. Tinder as she stuck new tags on presents and handed them to her husband, who sat on the floor arranging them beneath the tree.
Jessica placed her hand on Holly’s shoulder. “I’m so glad everything worked out for you.”
Holly turned to her and grasped her in another hug. “I don’t know how to thank you. You changed our lives that night.”
She chuckled uncomfortably. “I didn’t know that, but I’m happy I could help.” She released Holly, but held both her hands. “I guess sometimes one small action can make all the difference.”
He’d swear Holly’s smile couldn’t get any wider. “I’ll say. Who knew a catastrophe would end up being the best thing to ever happen to us? If that fire hadn’t hit, you wouldn’t have helped us and we wouldn’t have met the Tinders. It’s weird to think of life like that, like a chain of events that could have gone so differently.”
Jessica nodded and let go of Holly’s hands. “I’m also pleased I was assigned as your Spirit of Christmas Past so I could see how perfectly everything turned out for you.”
Once again Duncan was surprised by the difference in height between the two women. It didn’t occur to him until now exactly how tall Jessica was. The lasses in his past were much shorter and the difference was obvious. The feel of Jessica’s curvy body lying atop his had his cock moving. He’d had to get her off him before she noticed his growing erection. She would be a joy to have in his bed.
“Duncan, Holly is ready for her next memory.” Jessica looked at him quizzically.
Blast, wrong time for dreaming. “Good. Take my hand, lass, and we shall see what we can find.”
Once he had both their hands securely in his own, he took them high and soared over the treetops a bit before bringing them down through the roof of an old, but well taken care of cottage on a pond. As they drifted into the living room, a teenager lay on the couch watching TV by the light of the Christmas tree. A fire across the room made the scene very homey. Then the teenager coughed and grabbed a tissue to blow her nose.
Jessica raised her brow at him, but didn’t scowl this time.
“Oh, this was the Christmas I had the flu.” Holly floated toward herself. “Ugh, I was so sick, I didn’t even go to school the whole last week. I missed the Christmas dance and parties. That was my junior year.”
Holly’s mom came in dressed in jeans and a pretty red sweater. “Honey, you have a visitor.”
Another woman with very short dark hair walked in bundled up in a blue parka and boots. “How are you feeling, Holly?”
Both young Holly and older Holly yelled at the same time. “Mrs. Connors!”
The woman laughed, showing pretty white teeth. “I don’t think you’ll be so happy to see me when I show you what I brought.”
Holly turned to him and Jessica. “That’s my teacher. She was the best teacher I ever had. She’s why I decided to go into business.”
After Holly turned back to relive her memory, Duncan looked over at Jessica. She wasn’t smiling. In fact she looked as if she was about to cry.
He reached over and grasped her hand. She looked at him and shook her head, even as she released his hand to remove her glasses and wipe her eyes.
He turned back to the scene to find Mrs. Connors explaining the classwork to the teenage Holly so she could catch up over the break.
Holly turned around to them. “I’d never been so happy to receive homework. I was acing her class and by doing that big pile she gave me over the break, I was able to keep my A. She always went above and beyond for her students.”
“Did she ever come in with any bruises or cuts?” Jessica’s tone was serious.
“Yes, now that you mention it. She told us she was a klutz, but it was more, wasn’t it?”
Jessica nodded. “I’m afraid so. She was a victim of domestic violence. I finally convinced her to leave her husband and I settled her in at Willow Wood. But when I visited two weeks later, she‘d left. They thought she went back to her husband.”
Holly frowned. “I don’t think so. I took her the next school year for Advanced Marketing and she wasn’t Mrs. Connors anymore. She told us she divorced and remarried and to call her Mrs. Brennen.”
“Really?” Hope and relief battled for supremacy in Jessica’s face.
Holly nodded. “Yes. Did you know her long?”
“Not long enough. It had taken me almost a year to get her to leave her husband. I didn’t even question the staff at Willow Wood when they told me where she went. My supervisor at the time didn’t want us wasting time on what she called ‘beyond help’ cases, so unless Mrs. Connors contacted me, I couldn’t continue to work with her.” Jessica paused and glanced at him. “She never called.”
Holly smiled, a full smile that crinkled her eyes. “I loved her so much. In fact, I almost became a teacher because she was so influential, but my mom kindly suggested I might make a little more money in the corporate world.” Holly squinched her nose. “I never did feel comfortable there. I ended up working for smaller businesses, which was my happy place.”
When Holly turned back to watch the proceedings, Duncan grabbed Jessica’s hand. She needed to “process” this and so did he. What was Cameron up to? Something else was at foot here and he didn’t like it.
He floated her up through the ceiling and out into the dark night. He’d thought to bring her to her house, but in mid-transition, he headed for his castle, a need to have her in his domain, urged him home.
Jessica was too surprised by Holly’s revelation to question Duncan whisking her away again. These two cases she’d considered failures were not failures after all. Was it her perspective? Was it her tunnel vision on the job? Was it because she felt like she was the only one who could help people?
At her last thought, her stomach tightened. She shied away from where her mind wanted to go and instead looked around. Solidifying, she craned her neck as her gaze followed a wall over a twelve-foot door all the way up to what looked like a three-story ceiling. “Where are we?”
Duncan turned her toward the rest of the room. “My home.” He opened his arm as if he gave her a precious present.
A fire crackled in a large stone fireplace, which had a woven rug before it. Set back from this were two large wooden chairs with cushions that made her think of medieval thrones. To the right was what had to be a twenty-foot table pushed up against a wall and above it hung a beautiful, giant tapestry of a nine-point stag standing in a forest. To the left was an open double doorway that revealed an even bigger table with at least forty chairs set at it. There were three other smaller doorways, one of which she glimpsed a stone spiral staircase.
She stared at Duncan. His smile was hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure what she would think of his home. To see his usual confidence missing tugged at her heart. “This is huge.”
His smile lifted up on one side as if embarrassed. “My forefathers didn’t update this section, but I like the medieval feel of it. If you would be more comfortable in the sixteenth or eighteenth century wings, we can go there.” He lifted his hands, palms up. “I’m afraid the wealth of the Montgomeries in the fifteenth and seventeenth centuries wasn’t enough to add on additional sections, but to be honest, this thing is a monstrosity as it is.”
She walked to the chairs before the fireplace and ran her hand over the carving of a thistle on the back. “I love it. I always wanted to go to Scotland. I planned to stay in one of those castles they renovated into a hotel.” She strolled around the giant chair and pushed on the cushion with her hand then sat. “Wow, I feel like a queen.”
Duncan finally moved, striding over to take the other chair. “I’m glad you like it.”
She ran her hand along the chair arm carved as a lion. “I do.” Feeling his gaze on her, she looked at him to find him not smiling and his eyes intent. “Why did you bring me here?”
He shrugged, but it wasn’t the effortless motion he usually portrayed. This one appeared forced. “I thought you may want to talk about what you learned about Mrs. Connors.”
Actually, she didn’t and she turned her head away. “Are the clients and the Spirit Guides always so entwined?”
“No.”
At his short response, she glanced at him again and found him brooding. He looked like a different person, like a man of power and control and her stomach flipped over. “What are you thinking?”
He had his chin resting on his right fist, his elbow set on the arm of the chair, and for a moment, she didn’t think he would answer.
“I think there is more to our assignment than what Cameron told us.”
This was a different side of Duncan and she liked it as much, if not more, than his fun side. Did that make her a bore?
“I think,” he turned his serious gaze on her, “he’s testing you. And I dinna like it.”
Why did her heart speed up at the protective sound in his voice? She needed to get a hold of herself. “You mean a test to see if I’m good enough to go it alone as a Spirit Guide?”
He shook his head. “No, I determine when you can go on your own.”
“You do?” That thrilled her and bothered her at the same time. “So after I finish with Holly, you make a decision based on how well I helped her? Talk about pressure.”
Duncan finally smiled. “Oh, I never let a Guide go by him or herself after just one trip.”
She started to take offense before she recognized the gleam in his eye. He was teasing her. Finding a new camaraderie with him, she lifted one eyebrow. “There’s a first time for everything.”
Duncan’s laughter filled the room and sent tingles skittering across her skin. Maybe she did like the fun side better.
He winked. “Then again, if you aren’t ready, I get to accompany you on your next assignment.”
She caught her breath. It was clear that was his preference. But was it because he enjoyed her company or that he still didn’t have faith in her abilities? She pushed her glasses up to hide her confusion.
Duncan stood and held out his hand. “Would you like to see more of this wing?”
Something in his look reminded her of an old pick-up line, I’m an artist. Really. Would you like to see my sketches? There was far more on his mind than just a tour and her body sensed his intent. Not sure how she felt about that, she hesitated and his smile faltered.
Oh, that was too much. What harm was there in seeing the place? “I’d love to.”
The smile he gave her this time was genuinely honest. He loved his home and for some reason, he wanted her to like it, too. Not hard to do, considering it was a castle. He walked her to the stairway and too soon released her hand.
“Up you go, lass. To truly appreciate this pile of stone, you need to start at the top.”
She nodded and lifted her skirt with both hands so she wouldn’t trip on the narrow stairs. After two stories of going around the tight spiral, she felt dizzy and placed her foot too close to the center where the step was no more than a couple inches wide.
As she lost her balance, she dropped her skirt and threw her arms out to catch herself.
Duncan’s strong arm wrapped around her as she fell back. “I’ve got ye, lass.”
The sound of his deeper accent, combined with the rapid beating of her heart, caused her to melt into him. “Thank you.” She barely got the words out, no more than a whisper.
“My pleasure.” Duncan’s breath tickled her ear as he spoke, sending awareness through every nerve ending.
Her body lit up like a Christmas tree. His hard chest against her back kept her safe while the heavy arm that held her lay just beneath her breasts. Could he feel her heartbeat? “I’m okay now.”
Instead of loosening his hold, Duncan held her tighter. “Aye, that ye be.” No sooner had his words passed her ear than his lips found the side of her neck and he kissed her.
Her whole body shivered at his touch.
He smiled against her skin then nuzzled her nape before taking a deep breath. “Ach, lass you smell of Christmas and tartness and everything good. It makes me want to eat ye up.”
“Oh.” His words formed an image in her mind of his deep-blue eyes looking up at her from between her legs, a crooked grin on his lips. Probably not what he meant at all, or was it?
His other hand snaked around her and unbuttoned the top button of her blouse.
She should stop him because…because…there was a reason, but her mind refused to grasp it.
And then his hand was on her skin, moving toward her right breast, his fingers sliding beneath the white satin of her bra cup to find her nipple.
Her sheath reacted, tightening as her pussy swelled. His two fingers began to play with her hard nub, squeezing, rolling, flicking it until moisture gathered in her folds. She arched into his hand even as he nibbled her earlobe, making every part of her hot. Maybe all his experience did have some benefit.
She pressed her left hand against the stone wall as the ache inside her grew.
Duncan’s arm around her waist moved lower, and his hand sneaked under the waistband of her skirt, burrowing its way beneath her panties.
Her body was primed, ready. Reaching her other hand out, she grasped the curve of the center column of the stairway and tilted her hips toward his traveling fingers.
Duncan didn’t disappoint her. He moved his hand lower, pushing through the hair covering her mons, moving over her clit to explore the wetness of her folds. One finger slipped inside her ready sheath.
He cupped her, his finger still buried deep inside, and pulled her pelvis back against him, the hard ridge of his cock pressing against her ass. His other hand covered her whole breast and squeezed her to him. “Ach, lass, I could take ye right here.”
Her pulse, already beating fast, skipped a beat. She let go of the walls and grabbed both his wrists, pressing his hands into her.
His body shuddered. “But it’s no’ safe.” Slowly, despite her grip, he moved his hands away from her breast and opening, though his right arm remained around her.
A whimper escaped her lips and she flushed that she’d been so obvious. Still, she was thankful for his arm as her knees were weak.
Duncan didn’t say anything as they stood on the stair, both breathing hard. After a minute, her balance returned and she leaned forward. “I’m good.”
His chuckle behind her as he let her go had her turning to look at him. He raised his brow. “I dinna know that yet.” His devilish grin told her he planned to find out and he wasn’t talking about how good she was as a Spirit Guide.
She turned forward again and started climbing, going a little slower. She didn’t want to get dizzy again and end up back in his arms. Or maybe she did. No. He was a lover and she kept forgetting how arrogant he could be.
On the other hand, he’d been concerned for their safety.
She stifled a laugh. How could they get hurt if they were already dead? She sobered almost immediately. Duncan had been a spirit for a couple centuries and even he still thought like the living on occasion. Would she ever get used to this? Would this be her eternity? Like him, would she have no sense of how much time passed?
A yearning for more than this started in her chest. She didn’t like the feeling. The afterlife was supposed to be peaceful, not difficult.
After passing the third floor with only one door in the side wall, she continued upward. How big was this place anyway? He said this was the medieval section but there were two other wings with the latest being the eighteenth century. Was that when he was from? What was happening in Scotland then?
The stairs opened to a small hallway with a wooden door at the end. She walked to it then turned back to look at Duncan.
He nodded. “Go ahead, open it.” The anticipation in his face piqued her curiosity.
She lifted the latch, pushed the wooden door open and stepped out. “Oh wow.” She stopped where she was and looked over the crenellated stone along the edge of the roof. Before her lay green rolling hills, some dotted with light purple, leading down to an ocean. “This is beautiful.”
She looked at Duncan, who was also staring at the vista, and she could easily see him in a kilt and loose white shirt. His chin was up as the light breeze ruffled his hair. He looked like a lord or laird or whatever they were called when he was alive, as if he owned everything before him.
He turned toward her and grinned. “Welcome to Rossan.”
“Where in Scotland is this?”
He cocked his head as he thought. “South of the River Clyde.” He pointed. “That’s the Atlantic ocean.”
It looked like there was a village on the coast, but the cottages inland seemed scattered far apart from each other, not that she could see every hill and valley. “What time period is this? I’m guessing it’s in the eighteenth century some time.”
He shrugged and returned his gaze to the scenery.
He really couldn’t remember. She wanted him to. For some reason that was important. “Did you wear kilts?”
He turned to face her and leaned back against the stone edge, crossing his legs. “Aye, I did and I do.” His smile faltered before it grew wider. “My father wasn’t allowed to, some idiot law, but I remember wearing the Montgomerie plaid from as far back as when I was a wee boy.”
She tried to envision what the six foot six Mr. Distraction looked like as a child. Surprisingly, it wasn’t that hard. He would have been precocious, always laughing and probably getting into all kinds trouble. She smiled at the image.
“Ah, you have figured it out then?” He winked, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes.
Her instincts were finally helping her see the slight nuances in his face. She’d been distracted by the smiles and laughter, but now, she could see that sometimes those were used to hide doubts and dare she think it, insecurities.
She sauntered over to him. “As a matter of fact, I have.”
“Then please enlighten this old soul.” He bowed his head slightly in respect, not in fun.
She squelched a flirtatious reply. “I believe you were born around 1780.”
“Why is that?”
“I’m no expert, but I was supposed to take a trip to Scotland and did a little research. The Scots always wanted to be separate from the English crown and in the 1700s there was an attempt to put a Bonnie Stuart on the throne.”
“Aye.” His face lit with excitement. “Bonnie Prince Charlie.”
She frowned. “But that failed and the English king outlawed the wearing of the kilt, playing the bagpipes and basically anything truly Scottish.”
Duncan stood straight, now clearly remembering. “That’s why my father couldn’t wear a kilt, but then they repealed the law. That’s why I could. You’re brilliant.”
With no warning, he scooped her into his arms and kissed her. This wasn’t the sensual kiss on her couch. This was a full on, overpowering assault on her senses as his tongue entwined with her own and his body pressed her against the pitched roof.
His hand cupped her head as he slanted his lips across hers like a man starved. Her soul took notice and she wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her hands in his thick hair.
Just when she thought her knees would give way, he retreated, but not far. He leaned his forehead against hers and with his finger traced her swollen lips.
“I’m sorry, lass. I canna control myself around ye.”
Every feminine part of her cheered at his statement even as she noticed his Scottish accent had become heavier. “Hmm, I’m thinking that happens with every girl you kiss.”
He lifted his head and stared into her eyes, all traces of amusement gone. “Nay, it does no’. Ye are the first.”
Oh, sheesh. This wasn’t what she’d expected. How did he completely flip the tables on her? She moved her hand to his cheek. “You’re pretty awesome, too.”
Instead of laughing, or at least a smile, he frowned. He didn’t say a word, turned his head and kissed her palm.
What was he thinking?
Duncan didn’t want to let Jessica go, even for a moment, and panic crowded upon him. He didn’t understand why he, the man who had lain with women in more than a hundred beds, though to be truthful they weren’t all in beds, but still, why couldn’t he stop thinking of her. It bothered him enough to walk away, but his body refused to budge.
“Duncan? Are you all right?”
Ignoring her question, he listened to his body and lowered his lips to hers again. As soon as they touched, lightning crashed inside him, making his balls tighten and his cock hard. Her breasts, pressing against his chest, burned him and he couldn’t keep his hands from moving over her.
He wanted to kiss every part of this woman. Every stubborn, sassy, smart inch of her. He forced his lips to move away from her sweet mouth to her neck, which he’d tasted on the stairs.
She leaned her head away, giving full access to that smooth white column where her pulse beat so diligently. He licked at it before kissing his way to her collarbone, his fingers deftly popping another button open on her blouse.
The soft fabric moved away as his mouth descended on the crest of a breast and he tongued the skin above the bra. Following the lace edging downward with his lips to the space between her breasts, he licked between them all the way up to the hollow at her throat.
Her scent wafted around him as her pulse beat rapidly beneath his tongue. He craved her.
Taking a deep breath, he inhaled her cranberry aroma, the fresh air of the day, and the tiniest whiff of salt air from the sea. He moved his lips to her ear. “I want ye, Jess.”
Lifting his head to see her response, he found her staring at him through half-closed eyes that had turned darker than the evergreens in the distance. As carefully as he could, he lifted the glasses from her face, fascinated by the lighter green flecks visible in her eyes. “Ye are so bonny, lass. I canna help myself.”
Need as well as hesitancy was clear in her gaze. He didn’t want her to think. He wanted her to feel. With his elbows anchored against the slope of the roof, he lowered his head and gently kissed her, holding back his raging need to woo her body into submission.
Lazily, he explored her sweet taste, his cock hardening as her tongue finally tangled with his own. His hips pressed against her of their own accord and she moaned into his mouth at his movement. He burrowed his knee between her legs, nudging them apart.
Without leaving her delicious mouth, he balanced on one elbow and released his hard cock from the stifling denim. His hope was that with it open to the fresh air instead of confined in the pants they called jeans, he would have more control, but he was mistaken.
He had to have her. From her reaction on the stairs and her moans now, she must be ready for him. Leaving her lips, he nuzzled between her breasts before forcing his tongue beneath her bra and tugging on her nipple. Bracing his legs, he used one hand to pull down the material and grasp her breast in his hand, kneading it, loving the soft firmness of it.
Over the thudding of his own heart, he focused on the small gasps of air she took. She wanted him. He wanted her. There was no reason to wait. Removing his hand from her breast, he hiked up her skirt to her waist until he could press his cock against her.
Blast, there was still yet another barrier before him. It was too much clothing. With his hand, he pulled the underthing to the side and thrust inside her wet pussy.
“Duncan. Duncan!” He’d just registered her voice when a sting from a slap spread across his face.
“What?”
“Where did you go? One minute we’re having a conversation and the next minute you’re in Never Never Land.”
Huh? He stared at Jessica. Her blouse only had the one button undone, she still wore her glasses and she was standing in front of him as he leaned against the stone crenellation. What happened?
“Duncan, are you okay?”
A pressure in the back of his head built. He looked into her worried eyes, knowing his own must reveal the same. “Aye, lass, I’m fine.” But he wasn’t fine and she probably knew it. “Would you like to see more of this wing?” He turned away from her and rubbed at the pressure at the base of his skull, the pain increasing. Confused by what happened and by her caring, he pointed below instead. “Or I can show you one of the other ones.”
She walked around him and placed her hands on her hips. “No, I don’t want to see the other wings. I want to know what happened just now. I was talking to you for at least ten minutes and you didn’t respond. It was like you were a zombie or something.”
A shiver raced through his body at her words. Whispers of spirits who disappeared, vanishing into nothingness from being around too long sliced through his brain as the pressure in his skull blew apart and he grasped his head in his hands.