The Unicorn's Tail (The Artifact Hunters) (6 page)

She turned back, string and rings dangling from under her jacket. "Now what?"

He showed her how to thread the fabric through the ring to lift her skirt. Now the hem sat six inches from the ground, but her ankles were demurely hidden in her leather boots.

"Oh how ingenious. Thank you." She gave him a smile and cocked her head to one side, as though seeing him for the first time.

*

Amy stopped at the end of the path and looked out over the still water. "It's beautiful," she said. "Like something from a fairy tale." Skeletal willows reached out over the water, their branches shades of silver against the pale sky. Snow lay at the edges, and the first foot or two of the water was frozen over. A little jetty ran out over the lake; frost dusted it with sparkles and the sun lit the damp timber like a dark exotic jewel.

"You really think it's pretty?" He stood behind her.

"Yes." The entire landscape had an ethereal quality and a quietness that soothed her soul. You could hide from the world here, suspended in your own time and reality. Her hand dropped to the bracelet around her wrist and a movement on the distant shore caught her eye. The snow and ice particles reformed in the shape of a unicorn, looking out over the lake. Sparkling fragments danced around its edges, blurring the outline. She caught her breath at the luminous image and her fingers tightened on the bracelet. The unicorn turned and looked at her; he dipped his head in acknowledgment and then melted back into the surrounding snow.

"The cottage needs work." Jackson's voice broke the magical spell.

She dragged her gaze from where she'd sighted the mythical creature and turned to survey the honey-coloured building. Wide, tall windows gave it an open expression and naked ivy and roses clamoured up the brick. Even winter could not chill the warmth of the façade. Paint the house in sunshine and a riot of fresh flowers and it would be gorgeous, welcoming. A home.

She gave a sigh. What a fantastic place to raise children, with all of the surrounding wood to explore, the perfect setting for all sorts of adventures. There would be fishing and swimming in the lake in the warmer weather. She would never forbid her children from swimming or make them stick to the shallows. She would raise guppies if she could, or mermaids to frolic with the unicorn.

She trod the crushed-shell path with slow steps, peering at the dormant garden. She tried to identify the slumbering plants, but managed only a few. Spring would erupt in a few months, and nature's gifts would reveal themselves.

A rusty iron ring hung in the middle of the enormous door. It looked like a solid piece of oak that, once closed, would protect the occupants from the rage of any storm.

Jackson shouldered the door and it gave on protesting hinges. "It ain't much," he said, stepping inside the dim interior. "Just four rooms down and four above."

"Lordy." She wandered into the first leaf-strewn room. "For a man who runs an efficient business empire, Nathaniel's not big on home maintenance."

"Lot of memories out here, some best left undisturbed." He stood at the door and watched her move about the space.

"So why clean this house out now?" Why should ghosts be left to wander on their own? She moved to the window with its lone chair. She ran a finger along the back. The spot had a clear view of the lake and the small jetty running out to the water. A perfect position to wait and watch the wood for unicorns.

"I'm going to oversee operations out here. Need my own place." He moved around behind her.

It wasn't a huge project, not like the crypt Cara now called home. That would take months to redecorate from top to toe. The cottage just needed some love to give it a new life.

"The lads and I checked the roof over Christmas and only a few tiles were loose. We're setting up a boiler out back and just need to run the steam pipes. Won't be too long and the old girl will be water-tight and warm." He patted a wall. "She might look rough, but it's just on the surface."

His words echoed her thoughts. The old house needed a chance for the walls within to start over and be something else. Although how did one decorate for a henchman? Wallpaper patterns that hide blood splatters and hard flooring for ease of spittle clean-up? "If I asked for one word to describe how you see this place, what would your word be?"

"Family." He spoke so low she strained to catch the word.

She expected him to say brothel or dockside tavern, although technically that was two words. She turned and found the former pugilist staring off at a ceiling rose. For a moment his features softened as he replayed some memory only he could see. What made him say family? She tried to imagine him sitting in front of a fire, toddlers crawling over him as he carved a small wooden toy.

She laughed it off. Then looked again, screwed up her eyes and cocked her head.

As though he sensed her scrutiny he spun on his heel and met her gaze. "Why are you making a chicken face?"

"Nothing." She waved the image away but it refused to budge. Ah. A memory wormed its way to the surface of her brain. "Cara said you lost your family," she blurted out, having remembered talk of a wife and child.

His gaze turned hard and he drew a deep breath through his nose that sounded like a dragon snort. "Not lost, they were taken." His tone was rough. His hands bunched by his sides, fingers fisting and uncurling. Then he grabbed a loose end of wallpaper and ripped the whole strip free.

"Taken?" An odd way to phrase it — perhaps they died in the typhoid outbreak?

"My wife and daughter were slaughtered like cattle in my kitchen and their bodies left for me to find as a warning." He balled up the paper with short furious punches and then threw it in a corner.

"Oh." She paled. Slaughtered like cattle. He once had a daughter. She swayed on her feet and rested one hand on the wall for support. To lose a child like that, amid violence. What a world to live in, where a warning cost a woman and babe their lives. What was Cara involved in? She needed to move her brain away from the horrific scene it conjured of a small broken body. "Would they have liked it out here?"

He stood silent for a moment, one hand rubbed the back of his neck. "Sarah would have loved it. All them places to explore when she grew big enough. Angelique would have hated the isolation. Too much of a city girl; she needed chatter around her, that one."

She couldn't imagine hating the quiet spot. She dreaded having to return to London and would gladly trade the shallow conversations for rural solitude.

"Well, I don't think it will take too much to have this place habitable again. Can I look upstairs?"

He gave a nod and waved his arm. Amy spent a couple of hours wandering around the rooms, imagining how they would be used and colours would bring out the warmth and magic of the surroundings. Then, with reluctance, she allowed Jackson to guide her back to the main house.

*

He prowled his room. Although Lyons gave him a generous suite, it still seemed to hedge him in, his body used to movement and tired muscles. Operations were under control. The cursed artifacts deep under the house didn't exactly demand much of his time. He did a sweep once a day to make sure they were all where they should be, and dreaded the day something moved. Occasionally dollface dug up a new resident, and he secured it away in the appropriately sized triple-lined cage.

They converted the huge barn out back into a workshop and now it churned out mechanical creations based on da Vinci's stolen designs, refined by Lyons. They sold for exorbitant amounts to fellows with deep pockets and even deeper secrets. The only fly in his ointment was Jasper Hunter. He knew his type — the local thug would be back, crowing like he was king of everything he surveyed. They just had to be ready for him.

Lyons maintained a policy of giving the idiots enough rope to hang themselves, letting the pretenders make the first move. Once the fly buzzed into their air space they would smash him, but the waiting made his teeth ache. You never knew when someone would get smart, and not everyone obeyed their rule of never going after women and children. It took all his will not to lash out after finding Angelique and Sarah bled out in his kitchen. Four men had to hold him down until his vision stopped seeing red.

No one would ever touch what was his again. Lyons made him that promise. He'd be damned if Hunter would hurt anyone at the estate, especially not Amy. The princess didn't need to see the ugly side of life. He would sleep with one eye open until Hunter was put in his place, permanently.

He lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling. Normally he drifted off to sleep with memories of Angel running through his mind. Tonight it wasn't the foul-mouthed blonde smiling at him, but a timid brunette. He remembered the rapture in her voice on seeing the cottage's location. The longing in her voice as she spoke of children running and playing in the wild landscape.

At times he glimpsed a keen intelligence peering out from those large brown eyes, but she shut it down if she thought anyone noticed. Like a present, she had layers that needed to be removed. Gut instinct told him if he peeled away enough layers she harboured a sensuous side waiting to be set free. The idea made him groan and his flesh ached at the idea as he remembered her tongue swirling around her bleeding finger.

He imagined stealing more than a kiss from those pink lips. His last thought as sleep claimed him was his hands buried in her dark locks as that pert mouth sucked his dick while he looked out over the lake.

Chapter Six

Thursday, 7
th
January

Loki lounged on a sofa, watching a game of billiards. "I think the woman is better suited to life in a religious order."

"Why's that?" Jackson asked, lining up his shot.

The pirate swept a hand down his body. "She resists my magnificence. In fact, whenever I get close to her she bolts like a skittish horse during a thunderstorm."

Jackson gave a laugh and launched his cue at the white, sending the ball spiralling around the table after its target. He watched it connect and nudge a blue into a corner pocket. "Maybe she just doesn't want your poxy tongue anywhere near her." He rubbed chalk over the end of the cue while he surveyed the table and worked out what to go after next.

A frown crossed the handsome man's face. "Not possible. I have concluded she has promised herself to God and sees me as the ultimate temptation to test her resolve. That's why she has ensured she hasn't been alone with me for the last week."

"So the bet's off then?" He gave a sigh of relief; the poor girl would be left in peace. He didn't like the way Loki played with her, and her too naïve to see the attention for what it was - a game. Every time the pirate winked in her direction she blushed and clutched her chest. She would get hurt, and it didn’t sit right with him. She deserved someone who would treat her right and stand by her for the long haul.

"Lord no," Loki said. "I have a new plan."

A cold lump settled in his gut. "Oh yeah, what's that?"

"I'm taking the
Hellcat
over to France then up to Edinburgh. I figure rattling around here with only your ugly mug to stare at will soften her up." He gave a chuckle as he drained his drink. "I imagine she will run to my arms for a voluntary tongue-tussle on my return. In fact she'll probably rip my clothes off and demand I shag her in the entrance, she'll be so relieved to have me back."

Not if he had anything to do with it. The run would keep the pirate away for at least a week. Longer if he got distracted. Time to free the princess from her tower and help her realise there were other options in the world.

*

Wednesday 8
th
January

She stood in the breakfast room, her hands wringing the fabric of her skirt. Nate and Cara were upstairs finishing their packing. Business called them back to London. Nan and Nessy had returned to Leicester the previous week. She promised her friend she would be fine, she loved the isolated spot and had no desire to return and face society. She wasn't, however, quite so sure about the other bit of news she mentioned. Captain Hawke would take them back to London in the
Hellcat
, and then he was off to France. She was being left alone with the gruff former pugilist.

Loki breezed into the room and headed straight for the laid-out buffet.

"Oh Lachlan, I hear you are leaving today?" She trailed behind as he snatched a plate and began heaping his breakfast onto it.

He gave his roguish grin. "Business calls, I am afraid. I'll drop our lovebirds in London and then I head to France and Scotland. I should only be a week." A frown darted over his face. "Or possibly two."

Two weeks stuck with a grizzly bear. She gulped. "Two?"

He turned and stepped closer. He lowered his lids and those long black lashes drew her attention. "Will you miss me, then?"

His scent washed over her, the tang and salt of the ocean combined with pure maleness. Did the earth miss the warmth of the sun in the middle of winter? Did sparrows miss fat seed heads once they all dropped?

"Of course I will miss your company. But I cannot be selfish when you have work duties to perform." She dropped her eyes to her hands. The way the man looked at her, and his delicious aroma, made her insides turn to wobbly pudding. Only her skin stopped her forming a pool of longing on the floor.