Scarlet Nights p.15 Read online

  “I know, with white marble countertops. Please let me hear you say those words again.”

  “Ask Ariel on Saturday. She’s the one who’ll be living here with you. Unless Erica gets you first.”

  Maybe it was the mention of reality or maybe it was the sound of a squirrel in the chimney, but it brought them both back to the present. For a minute they stared at each other.

  Mike broke the silence. “Is the old summerhouse still standing? I didn’t see it on the day I was dodging Lang’s weapons.”

  Sara’s face brightened. “You know about that place? I remember seeing it when I was a child. It’s truly lovely; the walls are made of lattice.”

  “Grans told us she used to go there when this town got to be too much for her.”

  “That sounds sad.”

  “If I know her, whatever chaos she was in, she caused it. Think you can find it again?”

  She pulled a piece of paper that looked to be a map from her pocket. “Another advantage of dresses is that you can have pockets. Jeans don’t.”

  “Jeans have lots of pockets.”

  “And they’re all packed full of the body parts women want to show off.”

  Mike laughed. “That is wonderfully true. So where’s the summerhouse?”

  When Mike reached for the map she pulled it away. “No, you don’t. I like it when you follow me.”

  “I certainly do like the view.”

  Ten minutes later they were at the old summerhouse, and it was prettier than Sara remembered. Mike hadn’t seen it on his earlier trip because it was set behind shrubs that had been allowed to grow eight feet tall. From the side of the path, the area looked to be impenetrable, but Sara knew just where to look for the hidden opening.

  Inside, they didn’t have to worry about trampling weeds because Mr. Lang had trimmed around the old place until it looked like something on a garden tour. Overhead was a beautiful copper beech tree with low-hanging branches, the ground under it carpeted with moss.

  The summerhouse was an octagon, only big enough inside for two people, and its latticework walls had been recently painted a greenish blue. The building and the setting were as secluded and as romantic as Mike’s grandmother had described.

  While Mike explored the little building, Sara sat under the big shade tree and watched him. He climbed onto the bell-shaped roof and when he finished with that, he checked every inch of the concrete foundation. She guessed that Mike’s interest in the pretty little building was more than just about the case, but she also knew he’d not tell her directly. She’d have to wheedle it out of him, or do something devious to find out. It was a sport she was beginning to enjoy.

  When Mike finished his inspection, she was sure he’d say they had to leave—no doubt for her “safety”—but he surprised her by stretching out beside her on the soft, fragrant undergrowth of the tree and putting his hands behind his head. His elbow was inches from her hip, almost touching but not quite.

  She leaned back against the tree. She didn’t want to leave this place. Ever.

  “The house needs a complete overhaul,” he said into the silence.

  “Mmmm, that it does.”

  “You sound like that makes you happy.”

  “I helped Luke remodel Edilean Manor and I had a good time.”

  “And you’d like to tear into this place. I’ll tell you what, you design and I’ll saw the boards.”

  Sara wanted to laugh but she couldn’t. She still hadn’t come to terms with the fact that Merlin’s Farm would never be hers. “Your wife will want to do that.”

  “I’m a long way from marriage. With my job, I might not live until tomorrow.”

  “From what I hear, I could go with you,” Sara said lightly.

  “Not if I have any breath left,” Mike said softly.

  There was an awkward silence between them, so Sara got them back on the house. “At least most of the paneling put in by the first Merlin is still there.”

  “And who was that?”

  “My guess is Alexander McDowell.” She was smiling. “Sorry, that’s an inside joke. All first McDowell sons are named Alexander. The family line goes back to Scotland and Angus McTern Harcourt. He’s the man who settled our little town and named it after his wife.”

  “Yet another name I’ve heard often.”

  She looked at him in question.

  “Grans said that in Edilean only the descendants of Angus Harcourt got a fair shake.”

  “That’s probably true,” Sara said, “but then it is our town.”

  Mike groaned. “Spoken like a true aristocrat.”

  “I don’t think that being descended from a Scotsman who quite possibly was a thief and a kidnapper qualifies me as an aristocrat. Ariel said the man stowed away on a ship—and it wasn’t the Mayflower.”

  Mike rolled onto his side to gaze at her. “You look like a lady to me.” He thought she was so beautiful sitting on the ground under the big old tree. He could see her with a wide-brimmed hat and her sewing. “This place suits you.” He rolled onto his back. He had to quit looking at her or he’d reach out to touch her. He made himself remember the case and Stefan Vandlo. Vandlo would never live in an old house, especially one as small as this one, Mike thought. From the look of the store, Vandlo was more of the gold-faucets-in-the-guest-bath sort of guy.

  They were silent for a while, then Sara couldn’t help herself when she asked, “Have you ever been in love?”

  “No.” Mike paused. “But I came close to it once.”

  “What happened?”

  “When she found out I wasn’t who I’d told her I was and they took her husband off to prison because of me, she fell out of love with me. Instantly.”

  “Imagine that.”

  “Later I heard she bailed his mistress out and they moved in together. But she never forgave me.”

  Sara couldn’t help laughing. “What a very strange life you’ve led.”

  “I guess it’s all in how you look at it. So what would you do with this place if it was yours?”

  She didn’t hesitate. “First, I’d replenish the orchard.”

  “Not the house first? No white marble in the kitchen?”

  “Trees need time to grow. That marble is waiting for me in a warehouse somewhere.”

  “You think Anders would agree to all that?”

  “Anders? What happened to calling him ‘Greg’?”

  “Sara,” he said slowly, “I’ve never met this man you’re engaged to, but from all I’ve heard, I don’t think he’s worthy of you. Are you sure you want to marry him? Wouldn’t you rather—”

  “Don’t even say it.” She didn’t want his words to strengthen the doubt that was beginning to come into her mind. “Everything for the wedding has been arranged. I’ve been having meetings with the planner.”

  “How are you going to get Merlin’s Farm if I own it?”

  “I don’t know.” Sara could hear the frustration in her voice. “Since I met you, it’s like everything in my life has changed. Before you, I knew exactly where I was going, but now I … I don’t know. I can’t seem to think clearly.”

  “That’s the best thing I’ve heard in months, maybe years.”

  “Maybe for you, but not for me,” she mumbled.

  Mike got up and held out his hands to her. When she was standing in front of him, he kept holding her hands. “Sara”—his voice was soft—“sometimes it seems like I’ve known you forever.” He leaned forward to kiss her and when she didn’t move, he was encouraged.

  When he was half an inch from her lips, she said, “Did you say that to the woman whose husband you arrested?”

  Mike pulled back. “What?”

  “Your women, the ones you’ve wooed then betrayed. Did you say the same things to them that you do to me? You know, about how I’m the most beautiful, the most—”

  He dropped her hands. Yes, he had said a lot of the same things to them as he did to Sara, but … He turned away. The difference was that this ti