CHAPTER SEVEN

AFTER CHECKING ON TOFFEE, who, to her surprise, was happily stretched out on the back of the sofa behind Teddy, Stella hid herself in the attic. Steamer trunks and boxes made for the perfect distraction, or so she hoped. Stella had a suspicion she’d be haunted by that strip of skin for quite a while.

Why, though? She was never the kind of woman who craved sex. Liked it, sure, but she never ached for physical connection. Now, here she was having fantasies and getting flushed over the sight of a man’s treasure trail.

Not any man’s. Linus’s. Her insides went end over end.

Wasn’t this just like her? It really was as though she had a subconscious need for self-sabotage. Why else would she develop a thing for the one man in England who wasn’t interested in dating. To top it off, she shouldn’t be developing a thing, period.

“Save me, Agnes,” she said as she flipped the latch of a footlocker. “Distract me with your memorabilia.”

Agnes obliged. Sort of. The footlocker turned out to be a stash of journals and photographs. Not the Limoges pieces Stella was supposed to find, but far more interesting.

Two hours went by before she realized.

“I come with tea.”

The voice came out of nowhere. Dropping the stack of photographs she held, Stella clutched her hand to her chest and turned around. Linus stood in the attic doorway, his silhouette backlit by the stairway light.

“Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to make you jump. I thought you could do with something warm. These old attics can be drafty.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” she replied, her heart rate slowing to normal, “but now that you mention it, I do feel a chill. Thank you.”

He came all the way into the room and handed her one of the two earthenware mugs he was carrying. Steam and the aroma of black tea drifted into Stella’s face. She inhaled deeply before taking a sip.

“So what is it that has you so engrossed that you didn’t notice the temperature?” Linus arranged himself atop the steamer trunk a few feet from her, using a smaller box as a footrest, and cradled his mug. The sloping roof and small space made his presence seem even larger. He was wearing a T-shirt. A gray cotton reminder of earlier.

Suddenly, Stella didn’t need the tea for warmth. She sipped it anyway, for something to do. “I found another collection of old photographs. Personal ones this time.” The pile she’d dropped lay scattered at her feet. Bending over, she sorted through until she found the one she was looking for. “This looks like it was taken on someone’s yacht. Check it out.”

Linus whistled. “Is this who I think it is?”

“Read the back. There are journals, too,” she added when he arched his brow. “I couldn’t stop reading. It’s like a giant Pandora’s box of awesomeness. The more I read, the more amazed I am.” A woman who carved out her life on her terms, that’s who Agnes Moreland was. Stella was inadequate in comparison.

Before the dissatisfaction could ruin her mood, she switched topics. “How was your afternoon?

“Quite pleasant. I watched rugby and read a few lab reports and Teddy fell asleep reading the paper. He snores, by the way.”

“And Toffee?”

“When I last left her, the owner of the house was batting a piece of uncooked pasta around the kitchen. Do not ask me where she got it.”

From the mischievous glint in his eye, Stella could guess. “Thank you for entertaining her,” she said.

It dawned on her that while she’d packed for Toffee, she’d invited Linus along without a single thought as to his entertainment. “I’m a terrible hostess,” she said. “I’ve been ignoring you all afternoon.”

“I knew what I was getting into.”

And he said yes anyway? A little piece of her melted. “You’re a good friend,” she said. A reminder for them both. Mostly her, though, since she was also thinking how amazing he was at the moment and how nicely he filled out his T-shirt.

He smiled in response, causing her to smile back, and for several minutes the two of them just sat there smiling.

Linus was the one to break the mood. “That reminds me,” he said. “The other reason I came upstairs. Teddy has volunteered to watch Toffee so we could go out to dinner.”

“He did?” A frisson of suspicion passed through her. “Why?” Teddy didn’t seem the type to make magnanimous gestures.

“We were talking about the Rose and Badger, and I mentioned that I hadn’t been there in years but that you don’t like to leave Toffee home alone, so he offered. My guess is he wants to win your favor, since you caught him staying here,” he added before raising his mug.

“And what is the Rose and Badger?”

“A pub a few kilometers north of here, near the henge. Serves the most amazing roast beef and pudding. My grandfather used to bring us when I was a little boy.”

“Did you say henge?”

“I did. There’s a large one in Avebury. Not as famous as Stonehenge, but very popular with the pagan community. Are you interested? In dinner, I mean.”

Dinner with Linus in an authentic English pub across from a pagan henge? Sounded...romantic.

“I had planned to work most of the night.” Soon as she answered, she realized how rude that sounded. “I’m also filthy. I’ve been digging through these dusty papers.”

“You look fine. We’re talking about a pub, not a five-star restaurant.”

“But I packed dinner. Mrs. Churchill made a giant casserole. I put it in the cooler.”

He frowned. “What cooler?”

“Sorry. The hamper.”

“I know what a cooler is. I was asking what cooler.”

“The blue one. I set it next to Toffee’s bag.”

Linus shook his head. “I unpacked everything from the car. There was no cooler, or whatever you want to call it.”

“Sure there is. I distinctly remember putting the casserole in it. Don’t tell me we forgot to pack it?”

“Sorry, luv.” He offered her a contrite smile. “Sure you don’t want to change your mind about the pub? Least you can do after ignoring me all afternoon.”

“You...” He was joking. Nevertheless, his teasing hit a nerve. Stella sighed. She’d hoped to use tonight to make up the time she wasted this afternoon. On the other hand, it was only dinner, and she did owe Linus something for driving.

As for the night sounding romantic...? Romance was ninety-nine percent mental. Linus by candlelight didn’t have to be any different than the Linus she saw every day.

“Sure,” she replied. “Dinner it is.”

The relief Linus felt at Stella’s acceptance surprised him, although not nearly as much as the tremor of excitement accompanying it. Taking Stella to dinner wasn’t something he’d considered until Teddy mentioned the pub in passing. As soon as he did, though, Linus seized on the opportunity. It would be a complete waste for Stella to work the entire weekend—and she would, too, using Toffee as the excuse. Therefore he immediately began dropping hints until Teddy found himself “volunteering” his cat-sitting services. Linus told himself the night out was for Stella’s sake, and he played off his excitement as satisfaction that his plan worked.

At least he did until dinner. He was in the front entranceway talking with Teddy when he heard Stella descending the stairs.

“I didn’t keep you waiting, did I?” she asked.

Dear Lord. All that talk about stopping a room with her entrance... Linus glanced at the portrait on the wall and mentally shook his head. Not even close.

How could Stella not see her own charisma? She’d changed clothes, switching her turtleneck to a V-neck sweater that reflected pink onto her skin. Wide and boxy, the soft-looking knit ended above her waist. Long enough to cover her, but square enough that there was space between sweater and skin. A man could easily slide his hand underneath. The thought affected Linus’s ability to breathe.

“Aren’t women supposed to make men wait? Aunt Agnes took forever when I was simply visiting for tea.”

Thank God for Teddy. Gave him time to clear his throat. “It was worth the wait,” he replied. “You look lovely.”

She smiled and tucked the hair behind her ear. “I know you said I didn’t have to, but after an afternoon in the attic, I needed a shower. Are you sure you don’t mind watching Toffee?” she asked, turning to Teddy.

“My dear girl, Etonia Toffee Pudding is like family. I’ve spent many hours with her sitting near me. Tonight won’t be any different.”

“We’ll only be gone a couple hours,” Linus told him.

“Or less,” Stella quickly added.

He hated how she was already shortchanging her enjoyment by planning to hurry back.

The Rose and Badger stood on the outskirts of town, on a road leading to Avebury proper. Linus had never given it much thought before, but once upon a time, the pub must have been an inn for Travelers. The building itself was white stucco with thick brown shutters. Above the faded white lettering on the sign was a painting of a badger, a rose trapped beneath its front paws. Sometime during the afternoon, the clouds had receded, leaving behind a full moon. It cast a silvery glow on the parking lot.

“Do you know how pubs got their odd names?” he asked as they stepped out onto the gravel. “The pictures were for illiterate travelers. If you were meeting someone and couldn’t read, you could locate an establishment by describing the picture. ‘Meet me at the Rose and Badger pub.’”

“Interesting.”

Linus winced. He sounded more like a tour guide than a dinner companion. He was out of his element. Normally he took his dates out in the city, where he could charm them with witty anecdotes. This was the first time he’d taken a woman to a place from his childhood.

It also wasn’t a date, he reminded himself as he opened the front door.

“I’m going to go out on a limb and say not many pubs were named after their owners then. Unless they knew a professional artist,” Stella said, still on his original comment.

“No, but there are a few Slaughtered Lambs and what not.”

“Sounds appetizing. Oh, this is lovely.”

Not as lovely as her enchanted expression. The pub’s interior hadn’t changed much since he was a boy, or in the last four hundred years, for that matter. The room was still dark, the light limited to a handful of hanging lanterns and candles on the tables. The same antique farm implements from around the area hung on the exposed beams. At this point Linus almost suspected they were original furnishings, like the pagan symbols interspersed among them.

The air around them smelled of wood smoke, fennel and onion. As they walked to a table near the fireplace, he breathed in the aroma and decided his ruse definitely was worth it. “Admit it,” he said. “This is better than reheated casserole.”

“Out of respect for Mrs. Churchill, I refuse to comment until I’ve actually tasted the food. However, I’ll admit the atmosphere is impressive.”

Why, then, wasn’t she relaxed? He could see the tension in her shoulders. Come to think of it, she’d been tense when he first made the suggestion of dinner as well. “If you’re worried about staying out too long...” he started.

“It still seems odd that Teddy would volunteer to cat sit. When he came to the apartment, he was all about being served.”

“That was before, though. Like I said earlier, maybe he feels the need to get on your good side.” Stella shrugged, not quite convinced.

“If you’re worried, we can go back.”

She looked about to speak, only to stop and shake her head. “No. We’re here. And I’m being overprotective, or under-trusting or whatever. I’m sure Toffee will be fine.”

Linus let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “I fed her before we left. She’ll probably spend the night bathing and sleeping by the fire. In fact, I imagine both of them will. Sleep by the fire, that is. I’d rather not picture Teddy licking himself.”

“Oh my,” Stella said, pressing a hand to her mouth. “Me neither.”

They shared a mutual shudder. In the candlelight, Stella’s eyes took on a golden sheen. Linus had never paid close attention to a woman’s eye color before. He limited himself to three basic descriptors: brown, hazel and blue. Stella’s eyes, however, were multidimensional. Multiple shades of brown blended together. A man could stare into them for hours and not be able to pick out all the different colors.

She looked away, and he felt her gaze’s absence. “How old did you say this restaurant is?” she asked as she studied the fireplace mantel.

He wanted to catch her chin and turn her face back to his. “Four hundred years. Give or take a few decades.”

“Wow. Can you imagine? Four centuries ago, another pair of travelers ate in this very spot.”

A fanciful thought. He liked the dreamlike expression it brought to her face. “Maybe. Bet they didn’t have as good a wine list, though.” He winked at her over the menu.

Get a grip on yourself, Russo. Stella raised the menu in front of her face so Linus couldn’t see the blush on her cheeks. What was with her? You’d think she was a nervous teenager on her first date. All day long, her insides had been fluttering and tumbling like someone replaced her organs with a giant swarm of butterflies. It was embarrassing. Right up there with how she took thirty minutes to change her sweater. At least showering and redoing her makeup made sense after being in the attic all day. Blushing at every little thing her friend said did not.

Gosh, but he looked good in candlelight. The flame brought out the blue in his eyes. Thank goodness for the menu or she’d lose herself in them.

The meal passed in a blur of conversation. Linus entertained her with stories of his childhood. So different from hers. Linus and his brother were clearly close, as evidenced by the antics they got into. Even Susan, the so-called outsider, was involved in some of the adventures.

One obvious thing was the role tradition played in their upbringing. Colliers was more than a family business. It was the family identity.

“Did it ever occur to you to do something different? Work someplace else?”

“Of course. We all did. Thomas even went north and played carpenter for a few years. Grandfather may have talked our ear off about legacy, but we were always free to go someplace else if that’s what we wanted. It’s only by sheer luck that I happened to love chemistry.”

“Your family wouldn’t have cared if you decided to design women’s shoes or become a barista instead?”

He thought for a moment before answering. “Hard to say. Father was devastated when Thomas didn’t join the company straight off, but he was the heir apparent. But Susan and me? I don’t think so. Not if that’s what I really wanted to do.”

“You’re lucky,” Stella replied. He was free to be himself.

“Let’s talk about something else.” She pushed her Cabernet aside. Once again, she’d let the alcohol go to her head and started saying stupid things. “Is there really a henge nearby?”

A look passed over Linus’s face, but if he thought her behavior abrupt, he didn’t say so. “Across the street. Been here longer than the pub.”

“I remember watching a cable show about Stonehenge when I was a kid. About all the mysticism and supernatural theories surrounding it, like how it’d been built by aliens.”

He laughed. “We were all about those stories when we were kids as well. Some of the locals still believe them, at least the mysticism part. Why do you think there are herbs everywhere?”

Sitting in the middle of their table was a bud vase with a sprig of dried flowers. Linus reached across and gave the stem a gentle touch with his finger. “Did you know that some people believe lavender can be used to attract love and happiness?”

“Really?” What a nice thought. “You don’t?”

“I think the plant has a very pleasant scent and that your olfactory sense reacts in very specific ways to different smells.”

“Spoken like a true scientist.”

“If the shoe fits,” he replied with a smile. “My siblings are the fanciful ones.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. Thomas and his wife are convinced they were touched by some kind of magical influence.” For the next few minutes, he told her about their miraculous reunion following his sister-in-law’s accident.

“Your brother really didn’t know she was alive?”

“And Rosalind really had amnesia,” Linus replied. “Talk to the two of them, and they’ll insist Christmas magic was at play. For that matter, my sister, Susan, will tell you the same thing about her romance.”

“While you have no magic at all. Poor baby.” She was only half joking. While she didn’t believe in magic any more than Linus did, it bothered her that he was the odd man out.

“I’ll survive,” he said with a wave of his hand. “I don’t need to turn basic coincidence into anything deeper.”

Maybe not, but what about feelings in general? While his siblings were falling in love, he was swearing off the emotion. The thought left her with an empty feeling. He deserved love as much as anyone. Without giving it a second thought, Stella covered his hand with hers—the way any friend comforting another friend would.

“You might not need to, but you deserve the chance anyway,” she said.

Linus stared at their hands for a second before rotating his so that their palms touched and gently closed his fingers around hers.

When his thumb rubbed the outside of her little finger, Stella felt the touch all the way to her toes. If he were to lean across and kiss her right now, she would...

“Hey, come with me.” His voice broke her thought. “I want to show you something outside.”

They left the restaurant and went across the street. The night was quiet. With each step they took deeper into the field, the farther the sounds from the pub receded until eventually the only noises they could hear were their footsteps in the grass and the occasional snap of an animal in the brush. The full moon was like a giant silver lantern making it easy to see the outlines of the ancient stone rocks that formed the circle. What the moon couldn’t illuminate, the flashlight on Linus’s phone did. He kept the light trained on the ground so they wouldn’t lose their footing.

As she walked along, Stella could see why people found the site special. The air definitely felt charged with something. Like a sense of anticipation.

“Where are we were going?” she asked. “You’re not offering me up as a sacrifice, are you?”

“Depends. Are you a virgin?” He gave her hand a squeeze.

They had been holding hands since the restaurant. Linus claimed it was to keep her from stumbling. Stella didn’t care. Jokes about sacrifice aside, she found his grip reassuring.

“Seriously?” she asked. “We’ve passed at least a half dozen of those large rocks. What is it we’re looking for?”

“It’s a surprise. At least I hope it will be. Hopefully it still exists.”

Again, Stella didn’t care. The wine, the air, the hand in hers were enough.

They walked awhile longer in comfortable silence. Then suddenly, Linus spoke. “Ah, here we are. Watch your step.”

It was a large tree in a nearby gully. Although they were buried by leaves, Stella could see bits and pieces of the root system as it spread across the ground like giant tentacles. Considering the roots’ size and range, the tree had to be ancient. “It’s a beech tree,” Linus said. “There are only a handful of them around. Supposed to have mystical properties. At least particular ones.”

Letting go of her hand, he stepped behind her and shone the light upward. Stella gasped. Ribbons of every color and size adorned the branches. Some were old and tattered, others new.

“What are the ribbons for?” she asked.

“Wishes and desires.”

“Like a wishing well, only with branches and ribbons.”

“Precisely. I’d forgotten about it until you mentioned magic.”

Stella watched the ribbons moved in the breeze. With the moon overhead and the silhouettes of monoliths behind them, the branches looked almost otherworldly.

She tilted her head farther back, even though it strained her neck. Linus was gazing upward, too. “Did you ever make a wish and tie a ribbon?”

“Once, when we were kids.”

“Do you remember what you wished for?”

“Probably a chemistry set or to be a starter on the football team. Something that seemed very important at the time, I’m sure.”

The wishes of children. Stella tried to imagine Linus as a little boy with little-boy dreams. “I’m sure I’d have wished for something equally earth-shattering.” She thought of all the times she’d tossed pennies into fountains with the hopes she’d be as good as her siblings at some endeavor.

“I’m sorry I don’t have any ribbons or we could leave a wish right now.”

“That’s all right.” The pennies never worked; why would a ribbon? Although she was curious. “What would you wish for if we did have ribbons?”

“Me?” She felt him shrug. “A new chemistry set?”

“Seriously,” she replied. Even if she didn’t believe in wishes, the surroundings called for honesty. She knew what she’d wish for, for him.

His ensuing silence lasted for so long, she was afraid he wasn’t going to answer. Finally, in a soft voice, he said, “I would wish to be better. A better brother. A better person. Just better.”

Oh, Linus. What he should wish for was the ability to forgive himself. As far as Stella was concerned, he was good enough as is.

“What about you?” he asked. “What is your heart’s desire?”

To know my heart’s desire.

The thought sounded clear and loud in her head. Stella pushed it aside. The thought didn’t even make sense. “To be happy,” she said instead. Again, the thought came out of nowhere. What she should have said was “to become a major player in the world financial market.” Something concrete and in keeping with her goals. Wishing for happiness was as nebulous as wishing for peace on earth.

She started to clarify herself when Linus’s hand settled on the back of her neck. Cold skin met cold skin, sending warm shivers down her back. Her knees very nearly buckled. “I hope you get your wish,” he said. “I want you to be happy, too.”

And then he kissed the top of her head.

They walked back in silence. Linus didn’t hold her hand this time. He wanted to, but after their interlude under the tree, signs of affection felt presumptuous. Especially since his initial answer to Stella’s question had been “you.” He would wish for Stella, in his arms. Exactly the kind of wish he had no business making for a number of reasons. Starting with the fact that she needed a friend, not an affair. And so he wished to be better, because better was what he needed to be.

Even though what he wanted was to kiss her until she couldn’t breathe. He licked his lips and imagined the taste of her. Imagination: the price of being better.

Stella finally broke the silence in the car, a half kilometer from home. Until then, she’d stared out the window with a faraway look on her face.

“Thank you for a wonderful evening,” she said. “I’m glad you talked me into going.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” It struck him just how much satisfaction he gotten out of the evening. Making Stella smile gave him a rush, not dissimilar to the thrill he used to get from the chase, only he wasn’t looking to gain anything further from the outcome.

“Don’t tell Mrs. Churchill, but I’m glad we forgot her casserole in London.”

The casserole. He’d pushed that part of the evening out of his head. Did he want to ruin such a good evening? “About that...” Might as well tear the bandage off now. She was going to find out regardless. “I’m afraid I might have fibbed a bit.”

“Fibbed how?” she asked. Her eyes narrowed.

“The cooler. It might be in the kitchen back at the house.”

“You lied?”

He preferred to think he misrepresented the truth for a greater good. “Only when it was obvious you weren’t going to say yes otherwise. And I really wanted to take you out this evening.”

Stella huffed and folded her arms. “I don’t like being lied to.”

“I’m sorry, but I meant what I said. I only lied when I realized you weren’t going to say yes unless backed into a corner. If I hadn’t, you’d have spent the night up in the attic and left me to hang with Teddy.”

“Don’t try to guilt me,” she said.

“I wasn’t trying to make you feel anything.” Perhaps he was trying for a little guilt, but she couldn’t say he wasn’t speaking the truth. She would have worked all night. “I lied because I wanted to spend some time with you, pure and simple.”

“You could have just told me. You didn’t have to play games.”

“Would that have changed your mind?”

Stella didn’t answer. In the dark, it was impossible to see her expression, but Linus imagined her jaw to be tensed.

Way to go, Collier. First real female friendship he’d ever had, and he’d mucked it all up. Why didn’t he come out and say he wanted to spend time with her?

Because then it would feel too much like asking her on a date, that’s why. He didn’t want her to feel that kind of pressure.

Or was he simply afraid she’d say no?