Seduction

Thirteen

Theo was taking the turns in the road too fast, Jac thought. Fog had settled over the island again and his headlights illuminated only a few dozen yards ahead. The ride seemed as if it might go on forever. The woods she remembered being on either side of them were now invisible. No cars passed. They could have been going anywhere. Or nowhere.

“Why didn’t you tell your aunts why you’d invited me here?” she asked.

“We may not find anything, so I didn’t want to get them excited.”

“Good excited or bad excited?”

“Good excited,” he said, but she wasn’t sure he was telling her the truth.

“Really? Your aunt Eva seemed worried when you mentioned the letters.”

He accelerated as he took the next bend. When he answered, his words were measured. “Eva is nervous about her own shadow. She doesn’t like upheaval. Status quo is her heaven. She hates the idea of me picking up where my grandfather stopped.”

“Your grandfather?”

“He was looking for the same treasure I’m looking for. That’s how I found the letter. It was in a book with his belongings after he died.”

“How did he die?”

“He fell out on the rocks and broke his hip, then got pneumonia.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Eleven months.”

“How horrible. You lost both your grandfather and your wife in the last year?”

He nodded. “I appreciate your concern, but can we move on?”

Jac sensed his pain and felt awful for him, but he clearly didn’t want to dwell on his grief. She could understand that. So she returned to what was confusing her about his aunt’s reactions to his quest.

“Minerva hardly seems the kind of person who’d be nervous about anything. I’d imagine she’d relish the idea of the search as well as the potential find.” She was thinking back to the ferry ride when Minerva had told Jac they were both seekers.

“Yes, she would. And you’re right about her, she’s not the nervous type at all.”

“Well then?”

“It’s me. She’s concerned about me.”

“Can you tell me why?”

He drove on without answering. Was he concentrating on the road? Considering her request? Composing a response?

“She thinks I’ve been too preoccupied with my wife’s death.”

“How does that have-”

He cut her off. “I haven’t really been able to work through the mourning process. Minerva thinks it’s premature for me to take on this project.”

“I’m not sure I understand how one could have to do with the other.”

“You need to read the letter. It’s at the house in the safe.” Theo drove on for another moment in silence. “I’ll bring you back tomorrow when both of them are working. And then we can talk about how to proceed. I really don’t know how to go about doing this without an expert.”

“Despite your aunts’ concerns?”

“I asked you here, didn’t I? I think this could be as important a find for you as it is for me. And not despite their concerns, but because of them.”

“You’re right. I don’t understand.”

“You will.”

Up ahead was a glimmer of light coming from the hotel. The atmosphere in the car lifted now that there was something besides fog outside the windows.

“Do you understand how you got to this point in your life, Jac?” Theo’s question was so serious it caught her off guard.

“I haven’t ever thought about it.”

“We get to any given point via the choices we make. Even those that seem insignificant have far-reaching implications. Do you think you’ve made all the right choices?”

She thought about the question. “No, of course not. I’m sure I haven’t.”

“Do you understand why you’ve made them?”

“Probably most of them. At least at the time.”

“I don’t understand why I’ve made most of the decisions I’ve made. Sometimes I feel as if I’m reacting, but I don’t know to what.”

She looked at his face in profile. He had grown into his high forehead and long nose. He’d been disturbed and confused when she’d known him before. And still was. Had there been stretches in between when he’d had periods of peace and calm? She hoped so.

Theo pulled up in front of the hotel and put his hand out on her arm. It wasn’t an embrace; he was keeping her there, stopping her from getting out yet. “You helped me a great deal when we were at Blixer.”

“And so did you help me.” He’d given her moments when she could move beyond her mourning and be exhilarated. Hours at a stretch when she didn’t wonder if she was going crazy or not. During so much of the time they spent together they were both just two kids, exploring, rebelling and finding themselves in each other.

He looked surprised. “I don’t remember that. Seems to me I got you into loads of trouble.”

She smiled. “That too. But no, you helped. You’d let me talk on and on about my mom. It must have been boring but you never acted as if it was. You’d let me talk myself out and then help me climb out of that past and into the present. Maybe I can repay the favor a bit while I’m here.”

He turned his head and looked away. Jac wasn’t sure if he was hiding his reaction from her or had just been distracted. When he turned back, his expression was inscrutable.

“I have to go to the gallery first thing in the morning. But I can pick you up at noon if that’s convenient. You can look at the letter and we can have some lunch. Does that work?”

“Yes, that’s fine.”

He got out of the car and came around to open her door.

“Are you all right here?” He nodded toward the hotel. “Would you like to come and stay at Wells in Wood? You’re welcome to.”

The house was fascinating and she was tempted, if only so she could spend more time exploring its artwork, its history and secrets. But she didn’t relish the idea of giving up her privacy.

“I’m fine here,” she said, and smiled.

Theo leaned in.

At first she thought he was going to kiss her on the lips. And she hadn’t moved to avoid it. A fact that surprised her. But at the last moment, Theo seemed to change his mind and planted the kiss on her cheek.

Inside the hotel, Jac walked by the lounge on her way to the staircase. She wasn’t tired yet and the room looked inviting with a roaring fire, an old-fashioned bar, small tables and cozy slipper chairs.

She sat at the bar, ordered a glass of port and looked around.

There were only two occupied tables. At one was a middle-aged couple writing out postcards, and at the other two men were poring over some papers.

Jac tried not to listen, but the room was small and their voices carried.

“It’s a good plan,” the younger one said. He was in his thirties, aristocratic-looking, with high cheekbones and a shock of blond hair. The other man was heavyset and about fifty.

“I thought so too, Ash. I’m glad you agree.” He glanced at his wristwatch.

“It’s been a fruitful meeting. Why don’t you let me take care of the check? Don’t wait for me. You have a wife at home.”

The man stood. From his slightly deferential attitude and the way he said good night, Jac guessed he worked for Ash, not the other way around.

After gathering up his papers, Ash stuffed them in a worn leather portfolio and then tucked that under his arm. On his way out, he stopped at the bar.

“Thomas? Can I settle up?” he said to the barkeep.

Ash was standing close enough to her for her to be able to smell his scent and identify its notes: lemon, verbena, bergamot, tonka bean, patchouli and something else she couldn’t decipher. It was always the elusive ingredients that intrigued her. Usually she could articulate every note, but sometimes the way an essence changed depending on what it was mixed with altered it beyond recognition. She sniffed again. Tried to single out that one missing element, but it was hiding. Jac was surprised at how much she liked the fragrance. She was demanding when it came to modern scents, even those her brother created. This was the first in a very long time that had intrigued her. It was sensual, with a hint of citrus, which her father always said made a blend more inviting.

Ash sensed she was focusing on him and turned. He gave her as frank an appraisal as she was giving his cologne.

Jac was momentarily caught off guard. For a moment, thinking she knew him. But no. She was good with faces. His was strong but somehow incomplete. As if a sculptor had been carving his face but never gave it the final polish. She knew that if she’d met him before, she would have remembered. Just as she decided it was a déjà vu, he introduced himself.

“I’m Ash,” he said, offering her his hand.

She shook it, and flinched. He’d given her a shock. He smiled. “Ah, static. Sorry about that.”

She looked down at the floor. There was only an area rug. Static? But it had to be, because what else could have caused a shock?

He finished introducing himself. “Ash Gaspard.”

Now she understood why he looked familiar. He resembled Theo, but with lighter hair and a less troubled countenance. That must have been what she thought was missing.

“Hello. Actually I know your brother,” she said.

“Really?” He seemed surprised.

“Yes. He’s the reason I’m here in Jersey.”

“Would you mind if I got my drink?” He nodded at the table where he’d been seated.

She should go up to her room, it was getting late. But when Theo had mentioned his brother, Jac had sensed there was tension between them, and now that she’d met Ash, she was curious.

He was back in a few seconds with a balloon of brandy.

“So what exactly brought you here to see my brother? A job offer perhaps?”

She was slightly confused and told him no, and then gave him the same explanation she’d give Theo’s aunts, that she was here doing research on Druids on Theo’s recommendation.

“Yes, well, if that’s what you’re after, there are certainly enough ruins here to keep you busy for months.” He took a sip of his drink. “Wait a minute, does this have something to do with that damned letter?”

Since he obviously knew about it, she nodded.

“Wild goose chase. We should sell the damn thing and bank the money.”

“Sell it?”

“As a piece of ephemera with that signature it would probably fetch at least four thousand pounds.”

Theo had never told Jac who’d written the letter and she didn’t want to let on that she didn’t know, so she just nodded. “So you don’t share Theo’s spirit of adventure?”

“Is that your question?”

“My question. As opposed to whose?”

“My brother’s. He and I don’t see eye to eye on this.” Ash shrugged. “Or on many things. Complicated family dynamics.”

“Not all that unusual.”

“I suppose not.” The sadness in his voice was palpable. He sipped his drink. Then shook his head as if he were having a conversation with himself. When he didn’t add anything else, Jac filled the silence.

“Wells in Wood is a wonderful house. Do you live there too?”

“Not in the main building, I have my own place on the edge of the grounds. It’s too crowded for me in that old drafty relic. My family has made holding on to memories into an art form.”

“You don’t like history?”

“I appreciate it, but I believe in living in the present.”

“Just what your aunt said.”

“Eva.” He laughed. “She’s a character. Minerva is too in her own way. I can’t imagine how they’ve managed to live together for so long without killing each other.” The light tone was gone and one far more serious had accented the last part of his comment.

“But you can’t blame anyone for holding on to memories,” Jac said. “Letting go has its own timetable.”

“Now you’re talking about Theo.”

She was about to say yes, then changed her mind. That wasn’t the truth. And for some reason she wanted to tell Ash the truth. “No, actually I was talking about myself.”

Ash gave her a look that was both compassionate and questioning. “I’m sorry. I do know how hard it is to get past a loss.”

“You shouldn’t be so hard on your brother,” Jac said.

“He’s not making any effort. And my aunts aren’t helping. Eva coddles him. And Minerva… well, busman’s holiday and all that. She’s too close to him. And there we are. How embarrassing that we’re talking about my brother again. I apologize. Tell me more about you. What exactly is your job that it allows you to go searching for Druid ruins?”

She explained about the show.

“Mythology,” he said. “Well, you fit right in with the Gaspards. Since you were at the house, I assume you saw the murals?”

“I did, they’re extraordinary.”

“I’m not up on my myths. It’s more my aunt’s and my brother’s-” He stopped, paused and then interrupted his own thought. “Wait, are you the girl who was with Theo at Blixer Rath?” Before she could answer, he spoke again. “Oh, I’m sorry. That’s rude of me. It’s your private life.”

“No, that’s fine. Yes, I was.”

“I know about you. Theo only talked about two things when he came home that summer. Mythology and you. He was totally smitten. He seemed to think you two had some kind of strange connection. Am I right?”

“Yes.”

“What was it? Something to do with a drawing?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“I was so jealous. Hated you quite a bit, in fact.”

“Hated me?”

“Back then I looked up to him. I was so pleased when my father said Theo was coming home sooner than expected. Until he actually arrived, that is. If he had been troubled before he left, he was even more distant and disturbed when he came back. He wouldn’t explain anything to me. Treated me with even more disdain. All he did was write you those letters and-”

“He wrote me letters?”

“Yes. Dozens. He wrote you every day for weeks.”

“I never got them.” Jac wondered if Malachai had prevented her from receiving them.

“That must have been why he finally stopped writing.” Ash took a long sip of his drink. When he put it down, the glass clinked sharply against the bar. “He doesn’t know this, but I read a few of them. Though I’m not proud of it now. It was cheeky and none of my business, but I was desperate to understand what had happened to him while he was gone to push him further into his depression.”

“And did you?”

“No.” He paused. “But he seemed to think you were a key to his getting better.”

“Really? I don’t know why.”

“Neither do I. You do know my brother is very troubled, though, don’t you? I say even more troubled. It’s more than just his current state of endless mourning. He’s been depressed for a long time. As long as I can remember. I doubt you’re going to appreciate me giving you advice since you don’t know me-or I you-but please, be careful.”

“Of what exactly?” Jac felt instantly protective of Theo. First Malachai, now Ash.

“My brother’s intensity isn’t always good for those around him.”

“I don’t think it’s necessary to warn her off me, Ash. You’ve already done enough damage in that arena to last me a lifetime.”

Jac spun around. Theo was standing behind her, glaring at his brother. The book about Victor Hugo’s years in exile was in his hand. He held it out to Jac.

“You left this in the car. I got halfway back to the house and noticed. So I thought I’d bring it round. You seemed so keen to read it.”

She took the book. “Theo, thank you. I was-”

“How did the two of you wind up meeting?” Theo interrupted, quizzing her. His tone was accusatory, suspicious, and she was taken aback.

“Purely by accident. I wasn’t ready to go upstairs and-”

“It was a coincidence, Theo. Drop it.” Ash said, stopping Jac from explaining further. “I saw a pretty girl alone at the bar and stopped to say hello. Really, don’t go rooting around and looking for sinister motives.”

“I’ll decide what to do,” Theo said.

“Speaking of deciding-so you’ve taken up the search again?” Ash asked Theo.

“I never gave it up. I needed help from an expert, and now that Jac’s volunteered, I have it. If there’s any chance that there’s a secret journal in one of these caves, I can’t leave it there to rot.”

Ash shrugged as if he thought the effort a folly. “There’s other work waiting for you. Work that you’ve been leaving to rot that’s more urgent.”

Jac wondered what work that was. In the art gallery?

Theo turned to look at Jac dead on, blocking out his brother. “So I’ll see you as planned tomorrow?”

“Yes, of course.”

Theo nodded toward Ash without taking his eyes off Jac. “This is my brother’s modus operandi. He tries to poison people against me. He’s full of crap, though, is all.”

Then he leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the lips and walked out of the bar before Jac could respond. To what he’d said. Or done.