Mac's Angels Page 15

  As he came back down, he felt her tight around him, still holding on and he opened his eyes in wonder. “Wow, lady! If this is what happens when you live in the clouds, I may never want to leave.”

  “That’s good,” she said in a light, breathless voice, “because I don’t intend to let you.”

  “But it happened so fast I didn’t—I mean, you …”

  “Oh, yes I did.” She flexed her muscles, setting off a throb of desire through their still-connected bodies. Catching his face in her hands, she drew him down for a long, deep kiss. “And I think I could do it again.”

  She did.

  And so did he.

  At last the moon moved behind the trees and their fairy tale setting faded to black. Conner slid off her, gathering her against him.

  “I feel as if I’m floating,” he said with surprise in his voice.

  Floating? “Conner.” She rose on one elbow, looking down at him. “I didn’t ask, are you all right? I mean your concussion. This could have killed you.”

  “I would have died happy. Before that happens, Erica, I want to say that I love you. I always did. I still do.”

  “And I love you, Conner Preston. I always have. Now, tell me the truth. Did they really think you were well enough to be released from the hospital?”

  “Conner Preston was told to stay. But Shadow always gets in and out of anyplace he wants to.”

  “Shouldn’t you be resting?”

  “I told you once I believed in the kiss-it-and-make-it-better method of treatment. I can assure you, I’m one hundred percent cured. Well, maybe only ninety-nine. We’d better keep working on it.”

  “Tell me what happened.” She snuggled back into the curve of his shoulder.

  “They took Ernst and Kilgore into custody. I think Kilgore will be out before morning, but his collecting days may be numbered.”

  “What about the ambassador?”

  “They don’t know yet. This time the wound was in his chest. He’s an old man. My guess is that he doesn’t want to survive.”

  Erica felt bad about what had happened, but when she considered the full picture, she couldn’t forgive the ambassador for what he’d done. Though not directly responsible for Bart’s death, the ambassador had to share the blame.

  “Do you think it was Ambassador Collins who arranged to intercept my letter to you, Conner?”

  “Collins or the base commander. I guess we won’t ever know.”

  “But Ambassador Collins wasn’t all bad, Conner,” she persisted. “He really did help me. Why?”

  “Who knows? Maybe it was out of genuine concern and maybe it was as a kind of insurance policy for himself. I think he must have had hope that someday you’d produce Bart’s book. Why’d you stay with him?”

  “I told you. He really needed me. I liked my job and the embassy was like a family. They made me feel secure.”

  Conner turned slightly, bringing his free arm down and capturing one breast with his fingertips. “But you have a new life now, with me.”

  Erica had never wanted anything more. But there was still one truth left unsaid. She couldn’t let Conner marry her without knowing it all.

  “There’s something I have to tell you, Conner. You never got my letter so you never knew … I was pregnant.”

  “Pregnant?” His fingertips stilled. “You were carrying my child?”

  “Yes. I didn’t know where you were. I wrote to tell you about the baby and that I was going to Paris. I got an apartment and I waited. And I waited. But you never came.”

  “Son of a—I swear, Erica. I never knew.”

  “I know that now.”

  “The ambassador said something about a hospital, about you being ill. Was that it? What happened?”

  “At six months I developed some kind of infection. The doctors did everything they could, but I lost the baby.”

  “I should have been there. I would have come.”

  She sighed. “I was very sick for a long time. Then the ambassador found me and took me into the embassy. His wife was still living then. They gave me a home and the pain gradually eased.”

  He caught her fingertips, pressing them against his lips. “I’m so sorry, Erica. It must have been terrible. I don’t know why you’d let me within ten feet of you after what I did.”

  “But I didn’t blame you. I knew you held me responsible for Bart’s death. You believed that I’d changed my mind about the wedding. I—I thought I was protecting you. If I hadn’t gone with those men, Bart wouldn’t have died. You can’t imagine how guilty I felt.”

  “And I didn’t come back to you because of my own guilt. I couldn’t even go to Bart’s funeral. For months I didn’t want to live myself. The only way I could face my failure was to blame you. I was alive, but Bart was dead.

  “It was all I could think about. That and you. I should have known something was wrong, but I couldn’t allow myself to have you.” He buried his face in her hair. “Losing you was my punishment.”

  “You lost Bart and me. I lost you and our child. Don’t you think we’ve lost enough? Bart would want you to get past this tragedy and go on living. The thing I regret most is that Bart will never get the credit for what he found.”

  A moment passed in silence.

  “There are still two things I’m wondering about,” Conner finally said. “According to the ambassador, Bart brought one of the statues to prove his claim. Where was the other statue?”

  “I guess he must have left it behind. Maybe someday someone will find the secret room and all the treasures can be returned to their rightful owners. What’s the other question?”

  “Paradox, Inc. is still in business, but it looks like Shadow won’t be taking on any more secret missions and you don’t have a job. Do you have any thoughts on our future?”

  “As a matter of fact, I was thinking about completing my degree and maybe … maybe finishing Bart’s work. As for Shadow, I see no reason for him to vanish.”

  “I do. Shadow takes too many risks. I have a wife now and … I know it’s too soon to talk about it,” he said, rimming her nipples with his fingertips, “but there’s another thing I’d like us to accomplish.”

  “What?”

  “Another baby. Babies. I want lots of babies. What do you think?”

  “I like your plans, Conner. I like you. I think I always knew that we were meant to be together.”

  “That’s why I’m here,” he agreed.

  “I wish we had our Christmas tree,” she said, savoring the idea of her future with Conner.

  “It’ll still be in our suite when we get back tomorrow.”

  “We’re going back to New Orleans?”

  “Of course. We have to open the presents under it.”

  “I already have the only present I want. But I don’t have anything for you.”

  “Oh, yes, you do,” he said, and moved over her. “And I’m going to enjoy it at least once more before morning. By the way, do you have any chocolate in the house?”

  The doorbell had been ringing for some time before Erica finally heard it. Groggily, she sat up and reached for her robe.

  Conner was beginning to stir as she left the room and started toward the front door.

  “Yes?”

  A uniformed postal employee was standing outside, holding a large box. “Mrs. Preston?” he asked.

  Erica frowned, then nodded.

  “Special delivery package for you. It’s pretty heavy. Better let me set it inside.”

  She stepped back as he put it in the foyer.

  “Thank you,” she managed to say.

  “Sure thing. Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas to you,” she answered as she shut the door behind him.

  “Who is it?” Conner’s voice came from behind her.

  She turned around to see him stumbling into the hallway, zipping his jeans.

  “The postman. What kind of silly thing have you done?”

  “Not me, not this time. What
is it?”

  “I don’t guess we’ll know until we open it. Let’s take it to the kitchen.”

  The package was wrapped in brown paper and postmarked Berlin. The original label had been addressed to Lieutenant and Mrs. Conner Preston, in care of Ambassador Collins, U.S. Embassy, Washington, D.C. That address had been marked through and it had been forwarded to Erica in Tennessee.

  Conner lifted an eyebrow, then grabbed a knife from the drawer and split open the wrapping. Inside was a box covered in yellowed wrapping paper and a card. To the two people I love most in the world. Be happy, Bart.

  “Bart must have had this with him the morning of the wedding,” Cornier said softly.

  “Where has it been all this time?”

  Conner looked at the return address. “It came from the minister who was to marry us. Mac spoke with him and said the old man was sending us something.”

  They looked at each other, throats too tight to speak.

  Finally, Conner ripped off the paper and cut the tape securing the box. Swallowing hard, he wiped his hands on the sides of his jeans and opened it. Peeling away the shredded-up newspaper, he lifted the object.

  Erica gasped. “The other Virgin Mary.”

  Conner shoved the box and paper away and switched on the overhead lights. The second statue was as exquisite as the first. A note was taped to the ornate base. Conner opened it, almost afraid to read what was inside.

  I think somebody’s been following me for the last two days. If anything happens to me, brother, I’m entrusting you with my discovery. Shadow can follow my directions and find the secret room, even if you can’t. I love you, guy. Bart.

  Conner handed the note to Erica. “Follow his instructions? What instructions?” He lifted the statue, turning it over and over, studying the work of art. Then he saw a tiny nick beneath the Virgin Mary’s feet, almost like an arrow.

  He inserted the tip of the knife into the mark and pried. The bottom of the base dropped off, revealing a hollow space, a space containing, “the black book,” Conner said.

  “It existed all the time,” Erica murmured.

  Their eyes met and Erica felt their thoughts join. Closure, at last. All the loose ends had been tied up. Now Bart’s death stood for something. He’d really found the treasures.

  “What shall we do with it?” She asked.

  “I’m not sure. Maybe your idea to go treasure hunting is a good one—for Bart. We’ll ask Mac. He’s a very wise man who knows how to right a wrong.”

  Conner replaced the statue on its base and slid his arm around Erica. The warm feeling inside his heart expanded, filling him with joy and peace.

  “For Bart,” Erica agreed. She lifted her face to receive Conner’s kiss, a kiss that was tender and warm and promised forever. She knew that she was home at last.

  “Now,” she said, several moments later, “about that craving for chocolate.”

  EPILOGUE

  “Mac, I need some help.”

  Lincoln MacAllister recognized the voice of Laura O’Leary. He’d heard it enough in the years since he’d arranged for her to attend law school. He turned away from the glass window overlooking the desert beyond the sanctuary called Shangrila and concentrated on the most famous O’Leary in Chicago.

  “What’s wrong? Has one of your homeless shelters run out of funds again?”

  “No, for an attorney I’m turning into a pretty good fund-raiser. This problem is a little different. You know I’ve been trying to get to the slumlord responsible for Learytown.”

  “Yes, I’ve been reading your accounts. I told you I didn’t need written reports of your work.”

  “You paid for my law degree and helped me open my office. I owe you.”

  “I’d have been willing to spring for better quarters, if you’d let me.”

  “No, Learytown is where my family started and where I’m needed. But I’ve run into a stone wall here.”

  Mac smiled. Problems were nothing new to Laura. Neither were solutions. She must really be up against it to ask for help. “What can I do?”

  “I want an invitation to a masquerade ball.”

  Lincoln MacAllister smothered a laugh as he prepared to listen to Laura’s latest attempt to make the world better. “An invitation to a party? Explain.”

  “Maybe I ought not to. It might involve breaking the law, and I wouldn’t want to get you into trouble. Do you know B. J. Cameron?”

  “I know of him.”

  “Well, he’s having a very elegant winter ball, complete with costumes and masks. I need to go.”

  Mac suspected he was going to regret helping, but this was the first time Laura had ever asked anything personal.

  “Why? That doesn’t sound like you.”

  “I’m going straight to the top, or, to put it another way, I’m planning to confront the devil directly.”

  Mac bit back a smile. She might just do it. He scanned his angel directory. Who did he know in Chicago who owed him?

  Of course. He knew of B. J. Cameron, but he was better acquainted with his son Ben. If Laura wanted to go to the ball, she’d get her invitation all right.

  Straight from the devil himself.

  “I think I can arrange it, Laura. Just sit tight.”

  Moments later he dialed the proper set of numbers and listened to the phone ring.

  “Ben, this is Lincoln MacAllister. Wonder if you’d do something for me.”

  THE EDITOR’S CORNER

  Welcome to Loveswept!

  I truly believe that one of the best things in life is spending long, leisurely days curled up with a book. Whether it’s a novel of erotic discovery and hidden desire like Stacey Kane’s scorching e-original CLAIMED, a sizzling small town romance like Elisabeth Barrett’s fourth e-original Star Harbor book, SLOW SUMMER BURN, or an electrifying story featuring hockey hunks like Toni Aleo’s contemporary e-original BLUE LINES … it’s a wonderful feeling to be transported to a new and exciting world … especially one filled with sexy heroes and vibrant heroines. Pick up these reads and lose yourself in romance and love.

  And for more wonderful reads, don’t miss:

  Sandra Chastain’s SURRENDER THE SHADOW – an enthralling classic of secrets and suspense; Katie Rose’s charming historical romance, COURTING TROUBLE – where an attorney and a determined suffragette butt heads; Adrienne Staff and Sally Goldbaum’s CRESCENDO – a sparkling story about a princely society man and his everyday princess; Iris Johansen’s blazing YORK, THE RENEGADE – where passion takes a man and woman on a wild ride in a rough-and-tumble mining town; and Ruth Owen’s BODY HEAT – an alluring tale of love, betrayal and murder.

  If you love romance … then you’re ready to be Loveswept!

  Gina Wachtel

  Associate Publisher

  P.S. Watch for these terrific Loveswept titles coming soon: September arrives with more timeless stories for you – Three enticing stories from Sandra Chastain, THE JUDGE AND THE GYPSY, FIREBRAND, and THE LAST DANCE, beloved author Iris Johansen’s THE DELANEY’S OF KILLAROO, Fran Baker’s enchanting SEEING STARS, Julie Ortolon’s irresistible DRIVE ME WILD as well as three original stories: another fantastic installment from Ruthie Knox’s ROMAN HOLIDAY serialized novel, Lauren Layne’s seductive AFTER THE KISS, and Mira Lyn Kelly’s sexy and sweet TRUTH OR DARE. October has more e-originals in store: Maggie McGinnis’s brilliant THE ACCIDENTAL COWGIRL, Megan Frampton’s sweltering WHAT NOT TO BARE, and Katie Rose’s delightful MISTLETOE AND MAGIC, as well as some wonderful reissues: Connie Brockway’s dazzling stories, DANGEROUS MAN and MY DEAREST ENEMY, Ellen Fisher’s memorable THE LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS, Ruth Owen’s riveting works, SMOOTH OPERATOR and SOMEONE TO WATCH OVER ME, Iris Johansen’s delicious ACROSS THE RIVER OF YESTERDAY, and three breathtaking books from Sandra Chastain, THE MORNING AFTER, FOR LOVE OF LACEY, and GABRIEL’S OUTLAW. Don’t miss any of these extraordinary reads. I promise that you’ll fall in love and treasure these stories for years to come.…

  Read on for excerpt
s from more Loveswept titles …

  Read on for an excerpt from Samantha Kane’s

  Tempting a Devil

  Chapter One

  London, April 12, 1818

  “Let go of me.”

  Roger Templeton slowed his pace as he heard the woman’s angry voice coming through the trees on his right. He couldn’t see anything in the darkness. If he remembered correctly from past experience, there was a clearing of sorts over there, a favorite trysting spot at Crumley’s entertainments. Perhaps this was a lover’s quarrel? In which case he ought to just move on.

  He’d slipped out of the ballroom to take a walk through the garden and get some fresh air. He wished he had his own tryst awaiting him since he hadn’t had a woman in over two months. There wasn’t anyone to his taste here this evening, either, in spite of the interest of several women of questionable character. He’d actually had to sneak out of the house to avoid their pursuit. This party was fiendishly boring despite the crush and he was seriously contemplating leaving altogether to simply get drunk in his room back at his friend Sir Hilary St. John’s house. Hil was probably out enjoying one of his numerous, mysterious lovers, so he’d have to drink alone, which was so damned sad.

  “I said let go,” the same woman demanded in a loud, angry voice. Roger stopped walking. There was something vaguely familiar about it. She certainly wasn’t trying to be discreet.

  “Madam, perhaps you have forgotten why we came out here.” The man’s voice was a harsh whisper. At least he was attempting discretion.

  “The why matters not,” she said coolly. “What matters is that I now find your company unappealing and wish it removed.”

  “I will remove my presence when it suits me. And it will not suit me until I get what you so blatantly offered inside.” He was clearly angry.

  Roger had just let out a deep sigh of resignation at the inevitability of having to interfere when she let out a sharp cry. He swiftly cut through the light brush in the stand of trees off the path and headed toward the sounds of struggle.