Gift of Fire

  “He’s a what?”

  Verity coughed delicately. “I think it would be easier to explain everything tomorrow morning. You look worn out, and heaven knows I’m exhausted after all the excitement. My ankle hurts, and I just want to go to bed and get some sleep.”

  “Oh no you don’t. What is this about Warwick being a client?”

  “It’s a long story, Jonas. I’d really rather explain it in the morning.” She smiled up at him tentatively. “It’s just a business matter. Jonas, I’m so glad you’re home safe and sound. I was so worried about you.”

  “Verity…”

  “My ankle is throbbing, you know. I thought I’d broken it at first. That deck is quite treacherous when it’s icy.”

  “Dammit, Verity...”

  “It’s so good to have you home, Jonas,” she said wistfully. She touched his shoulder, letting her hand trail down his arm. “You look like you’ve been through the wringer.”

  “I need a shower,” he admitted, swallowing the rest of his brandy.

  “Why don’t you go take one?”

  He rubbed his jaw. “I also need a shave.”

  “I’m not so sure about that. The beard is kind of sexy.” She touched the side of his face.

  He looked at her with a sudden, fierce desire. “I also need you.”

  Verity’s smile was very gentle and inviting. “I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t have everything you need tonight. Why don’t you start with the shower?”

  He stared at her mouth. “Why do I let you get away with murder? Eating vegetarian food all these months must have softened my brain.” He leaned down to drop a hard, fierce kiss on her waiting lips. Then he headed for the bathroom.

  Verity waited until she heard the water running in the shower before she rose cautiously from the sofa. She found she could make her way around the room fairly well using the fireplace poker as a cane. Humming softly, she locked the door and turned off the living-room lights, then hobbled down the hall to the bedroom.

  When the bathroom door opened fifteen minutes later, Verity was lying in bed, propped up against the pillows. Her red hair was a fiery halo around her head, and the nightgown she wore was one she had purchased shortly after Jonas had become her lover. It was not designed for cold winter nights. It was a froth of black lace and satin, and it did interesting things for the soft curves of her breasts.

  Jonas came into the bedroom wearing a towel around his waist and using another towel to dry his thick, dark hair. He stopped abruptly when he caught sight of her.

  “Given the fact that you were once upon a time a prissy little spinster, you certainly have come a long way.” Jonas slung both towels over a chair and walked to the bed. He stood looking down at her, his body fiercely aroused. “I missed you, sweetheart.”

  “I’m glad.” Verity pushed back the covers, making a place for him beside her. “I missed you too, Jonas. I was so afraid that something would happen to you.”

  He got into bed and took her into his arms “You were the one who wound up getting hurt. Just goes to show you.” He kissed her throat and slid a hand inside the black lace bodice of her nightgown.

  When his warm, deliciously rough palm moved down over her belly, Verity thought again of what she might have been protecting earlier that evening when she had fought to keep herself from falling. Maybe it was time to share her suspicions with Jonas.

  “Jonas?”

  He kissed her reassuringly. “Don’t worry, I’ll be very careful.”

  For a split second she wondered if he had guessed the truth. “Careful of what?”

  “Your ankle.”

  “Oh.”

  “God, I want you tonight.” He was stroking her with increasing urgency, seeking the magic places he had learned so well. “Welcome me home, love. I need to know how much you missed me.”

  Maybe this wasn’t the time to tell him. Clearly, his mind was on only one thing. When he had satisfied the compelling physical need that now drove him he would be exhausted. He needed rest, she could see that. Besides, she wasn’t yet certain about the baby. Verity put her arms around Jonas’s neck and pulled him close.

  “Welcome home, my love,” she whispered as he lowered himself along her slender length. Then he gathered her into his fierce embrace, and Verity forgot all about the future as she lost herself in the fire of their mutual passion.

  A long time later, as she drifted toward sleep, Verity heard Jonas mumble something into the crook of her neck. “What?” she asked sleepily.

  “I said, did I really sound like an enraged husband earlier?”

  “Irate, not enraged. It was just a figure of speech.” She was suddenly wide awake.

  “A figure of speech, huh?” Jonas yawned. “You know, I think that’s exactly how I felt when you came through the door in Warwick’s arms. Except that irate doesn’t cover it. Enraged is a little closer to reality. I wanted to put that knife into his throat. Don’t ever upset me like that again, Verity.”

  She heard the clear warning in his words and shivered. She remembered the coldness she had seen in his brilliant eyes when he’d held the knife to Warwick’s throat. There were times when it paid to remember that the man who lay beside her wasn’t just a dishwasher with a Ph.D. He could be very dangerous; as ruthless as any Renaissance lord who had ever fought to protect what he considered his own.

  And this was the man she loved, the man who was the father of her child. If she was carrying one.

  Verity touched her stomach again. It was a long time before she was able to sleep.

  “So you see,” Verity concluded over breakfast the next morning, “it’s a wonderful opportunity for you, Jonas. Assuming you didn’t blow the whole thing last night, of course. I’ve already put the Warwicks’ retainer in a special bank account, and arranged to have the rest of your fee paid at the end of the assignment. They’ll cover all expenses. Just think of what a perfect job this is! We get a paid vacation, and you’ll get a real start on developing a consulting business.”

  Jonas spooned up the last of his cereal. He chewed and swallowed slowly, considering his options. Verity was looking decidedly determined this morning. There was a vivid gleam of expectation in her aquamarine eyes that warned him to tread warily. She obviously wanted him to accept the Warwicks’ offer of a consulting job. Jonas, however, wasn’t keen on the idea. He preferred to stay right here in Sequence Springs, spending the rest of the winter making love to Verity and learning to cook gourmet vegetarian food.

  “A vacation in the San Juan Islands in the middle of winter is not exactly the same as a week in Hawaii,” he pointed out.

  “I know, but I think this opportunity is simply too good to pass up.”

  “Doing an analysis of the villa will be fairly straightforward, but you do realize that a four-hundred-year-old legend is not going to produce any real treasure, don’t you? Talk about a wild goose chase...”

  “That’s what Laura said. But I say, if the Warwicks are willing to pay you to chase geese, why should you complain? The treasure hunt is a side issue, anyway. The main thing is the report on the villa.”

  Jonas tried to think of another argument. He had a hunch that anything he came up with would get shot down. The whole idea sounded like a complete waste of time, but he was, as usual, feeling indulgent after spending a night in bed with Verity. The woman was slowly but surely wrapping him around her little finger. It was not an unpleasant feeling, he decided.

  “I’ll tell you what,” he said finally, deciding to be generous. “I’ll talk to the Warwicks myself this morning.”

  “You’d better apologize about the knife first.”

  “Don’t push your luck, Verity.”

  “I’m not pushing my luck. I’m pushing you. Honestly, if I didn’t, I think you would be content to wash dishes the rest of your life.”

  “I d
on’t see the problem. You need a dishwasher. You also need a keeper. In me you get both for the price of one.”

  She smiled the dazzling, full-of-promise smile that always made Jonas catch his breath.

  “Such a deal,” she murmured. She picked up the plates and bowls and reached for the poker to steady herself.

  “I’ll take care of the dishes. I’m a pro, remember?” Jonas said. He frowned in concern as she started to hop toward the kitchen, the dishes wobbling in her hands. “Sit down, honey.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’ve got this hobbling business down to a fine art. I think I’ll soak my foot in one of the spa pools later today.”

  “Verity...”

  She stopped to drop a kiss on his forehead. “Thanks for agreeing to take the job, Jonas. I just know it’s going to be the beginning of a great future.”

  “I didn’t say I’d take the job. I just agreed to talk to the Warwicks,” he reminded her, knowing that he was fighting a useless battle.

  “You’ll like them,” she assured him breezily as she resumed her awkward progress toward the kitchen. “Elyssa’s a little odd, but Doug’s nice and normal. He’s…Oops!”

  Jonas saw the stack of bowls sway like a highrise building in an earthquake. He watched in fascination as they slid slowly off the empty toast plate and started the short drop to the hardwood floor. Casually reaching out, he caught the bowls in one hand, and placed them carefully on the table.

  Verity sighed. “How do you do it, Jonas?”

  “Do what?”

  “You’re so coordinated. I don’t think you even realize how smooth and controlled you are when you move. It’s amazing.”

  He grinned lecherously. “Is that a roundabout way of telling me I’m good in bed?”

  She sniffed disapprovingly. “Your male arrogance is showing.”

  “I could show you something even more male if you’ll put down that plate.”

  “Some of us have work to do. And this is your lucky day. You are among the chosen. You’re actually being offered paid employment in your field of expertise. When you finish your coffee I’ll call the resort and make an appointment with the Warwicks.” She disappeared into the kitchen.

  Jonas settled down to linger over his coffee. He sat gazing out the window into the cold, frosty woods and listened to the pleasant clatter of dishes behind him in the warm kitchen.

  It was good to be home, he thought. Good to have a passionate little redhead waiting for him. Good to share a bed and breakfast with her. Good to have his books crammed into her bookcases. Good to feel he had a place where he belonged. He liked the thought of spending the rest of his life like this. He wondered how Verity would respond to that idea.

  She never said much about their future together, and lately that had begun to bother him. Women were supposed to instinctively seek a sense of permanence in a relationship. They were supposed to want rings, and vows, and all the other symbolic bonds that spelled marriage and commitment.

  But Verity had never once brought up the subject of marriage. That seemed strange, now that he considered it. Jonas frowned.

  Last night she had accused him of acting like an enraged, no, an irate husband. Jonas let the word husband trickle through his mind again. He wondered if Verity ever visualized herself as a wife.

  Probably not, he told himself realistically. Emerson had given his daughter a highly unorthodox upbringing. His main goal as a father, he’d explained, had been to teach Verity how to take care of herself in a rough world. The result had been a smart, self-reliant, fiery-tempered young woman who had managed to do just fine without a man in her life—until Jonas had arrived on the scene.

  Jonas didn’t kid himself about how she had managed to remain single for so long. She had driven off every eligible male with a tongue that had been honed to a fine, sharp edge. She was as good with her tongue as he was with his knife, he reflected wryly. The lady didn’t hesitate to use her mouth. Jonas grinned at the thought, finished his coffee, and rose to his feet.

  Verity stuck her head around the kitchen door. “You might put on a tie,” she suggested brightly.

  “Wouldn’t want the Warwicks to think I’m trying to impress them, now would we?”

  “Jonas,” she said firmly, “a tie would be appropriate. You’re supposed to be a professional.”

  He walked over to her, bent his head, and kissed her roughly on the mouth. “Like I said, lady, don’t press your luck.”

  Verity held her breath during the formal introductions but after a few minutes she relaxed. It was obvious that Jonas was going to behave himself. After Doug Warwick realized that Jonas was apparently far more civilized in the light of day, he put out a friendly hand, which Jonas accepted with casual ease. The four of them, Jonas and Verity, Doug and Elyssa, were seated in the resort’s solarium. The glass walls provided an expansive view of Sequence Lake shimmering in the cold sunlight. Elyssa was dressed in white again, Verity noticed—white pants, white sweater, white shoes. Her jewelry sparkled in the sunlight.

  “Sorry about the misunderstanding last night,” Doug said. Verity thought it was very generous of him. She smiled at him warmly.

  “I appreciate your helping Verity last night,” Jonas said somewhat grudgingly. Then he sprawled in a lounger and eyed his potential clients.

  “How are you feeling today, Verity?” Elyssa examined the now famous ankle. “Can you put any weight on it yet?”

  “A little. It’s still sore, but it should be back to normal in a few days. Laura found this cane for me and it’s been a great help.” She waved a hardwood staff aloft. “It’s left over from two years ago, when Rick threw his back out.”

  “I have a friend,” Elyssa went on helpfully, “someone I met in one of Preston’s seminars. He works with crystals. He could probably do something for you.”

  “I should warn you, my sister is really involved in this crap,” Doug Warwick said in an aside to Jonas.

  “Pay no attention to Doug,” Elyssa retorted gently. “He’s still very linear in his thinking. He doesn’t understand that the paths to enlightenment don’t always follow the straight, one-dimensional approach of most Western thought. He hasn’t accepted a holistic approach to truth yet, but I have confidence that he will one day soon.”

  “Don’t hold your breath,” Doug muttered.

  “I think some of the New Age ideas are very interesting,” Verity declared. `After all, it’s not as if they’re really new. Some of these concepts have been around for thousands of years. There must be some truth to them.”

  “Con men have a long history, too,” Jonas said blandly. “That doesn’t mean there’s any more truth in a modem-day con than there was five thousand years ago. That’s all most of this New Age stuff is, a good con.”

  “Jonas!” Verity glowered at him, willing him to shut his mouth before he mortally offended one of their potential clients. “Don’t pay any attention to him, Elyssa. He’s just got a typical academic bias against nontraditional methods of learning.” A heck of a bias for someone who happened to have psychic abilities himself, Verity thought wryly.

  “I understand completely,” Elyssa assured her, gazing at Jonas. She appeared to be infinitely indulgent of his petty carping. She turned back to Verity. “Will you be able to accompany Jonas to our villa with that injured ankle?”

  “Oh, definitely. I’m looking forward to it.” Verity nodded briskly, trying to pump some enthusiasm into Jonas. He ignored her.

  “I can give you a report on the villa easily enough,” Jonas said. “But I understand you also want me to chase some damned legend. I should warn you that from what Verity has told me, it sounds like a complete waste of time. Are you sure you want to pay my, uh, consulting fee to help you hunt for a treasure that probably doesn’t exist?”

  Doug chuckled. “It must sound a little silly to you, but I assure you that Uncle
Digby was on the trail of something in that villa. Elyssa wants to see if we can find it before we get rid of the place. Since you’ll be going over the villa anyway, you might as well keep an eye out for treasure.”

  “What makes you think your uncle Digby wasn’t just loony tunes?”

  “Jonas!” Verity hissed. He was being downright rude.

  Elyssa smiled serenely. “It’s all right, Verity. Doug and I have also wondered about Uncle Digby. He might very well have been completely insane. He was certainly an odd character. But he definitely believed there was a treasure buried in that old villa. He left a diary detailing his search for it. Unfortunately, he kept his notes in Latin. He also found a crystal at one point.”

  “Crystal?” Verity tilted her head inquiringly.

  Doug nodded. “I saw it myself about five years ago. Digby showed it to me shortly after he found it. He was sure it was a key of some kind. It’s green, about two inches long. It’s egg-shaped and very smooth, with tiny, odd-shaped little facets cut into the bottom. It disappeared a couple of years ago along with Uncle Digby. He either hid it somewhere or had it on him when he disappeared.”

  Jonas sat forward, finally, showing real interest. “He believed the crystal was genuine Renaissance work?”

  “Oh yes,” Elyssa said. Her bracelets jingled as she turned to Jonas. “He may have been senile there at the end, but at one time Digby Hazelhurst had quite a reputation in academic circles. Thirty years ago he was considered an expert on Renaissance history.”

  “Hazelhurst?” Jonas repeated. “Your uncle was Digby Hazelhurst?”

  “Have you heard of him?”

  “I remember running across some early papers he did on Renaissance scientific learning,” Jonas said slowly. “They were gathering dust in an old library file at Vincent College. I found them by accident.”

  “I’m afraid that by the time he died, Uncle Digby’s academic reputation had been shot to pieces,” Doug said. “His work got more and more bizarre during the last twenty years, I’m told. His colleagues ignored him, he couldn’t get teaching positions, and academic journals stopped publishing him entirely. He eventually retired to his island to spend the last years of his life searching for the treasure.”