He caught her hand, his eyes hard. "You believe me?"

"Always and absolutely. I'm only sorry it took me so long."

The tension seemed to slide out of his shoulders. He murmured something in Gaelic, lifting her to her feet. "I want you, Hope. Past controlling. If you don't want that, then tell me now and I'll go swim in an icy loch." He sniffed. "For all the good it will do."

"Stop giving me orders," Hope whispered, her fingers busy tugging at his shirt.

Sunlight glinted over the floor as MacLeod shoved the door shut with his foot, not breaking the searing kiss even then. The lock clicked shut behind them.

Hope blinked, caught between his hard thighs with a fine rosewood desk behind her. His heat was unmistakable. "Here?" she said shakily.

"I'm not at all certain we would make it to the bed." His mouth traced hot spirals along her neck as her sweater slid free and hit the floor. "The knowledge that you trust me..."

"I always trusted you, my love. Believing you was the problem." She closed her eyes, arching as he savored the curve of her breast. "Oh, God, Ronan, when you do that, I forget everything."

She shoved at his belt, tugged at his shirt, beyond waiting or logic.

Suddenly the door rattled behind them.

"Is that you, Ms. O'Hara?"

Hope stiffened. "Kipworth," she whispered. "The police officer from Edinburgh."

"Shall I send him away?" MacLeod growled.

"We can't. It's business." Hope stared down helplessly. She was slanted over the desk, her sweater dangling from one shoulder.

"Ms. O'Hara, are you in there?"

"Tell him to go away," MacLeod whispered.

Hope cleared her throat. "Er-yes?"

"So you are in there. I heard a loud noise up here, almost like something breaking. I was afraid something might have happened to you."

"I-I'm fine."

"Excellent. I have a few more questions to ask about the brooch."

"But I was just about to-"

"Make love with a wild Scotsman," MacLeod murmured, his lips savoring her taut breast.

"Stop," Hope said wildly.

"Stop what?" the police officer called, outside in the hall.

"Uh, I was about to stop-work. I was going to clean up. Take a bath."

"When will you be finished?"

"An hour. No, two," MacLeod said darkly as he stripped away her skirt and found a risque lace triangle with delicate embroidered roses. "Dear sweet God," he muttered. "Maybe never." His hands were slow, masterful. By the time the lace slid free, Hope felt her brain beginning to dissolve.

"Ms. O'Hara?" The doorknob rattled.

"In...a while," she managed to answer. "I'll be down as soon as I can."

"But I'm afraid this is urgent, Ms. O'Hara. My questions cannot wait."

"Neither can I," MacLeod whispered hoarsely.

"I'll call you. Find you," Hope said. "After a bit. Until then-"

"Go jump into the loch," MacLeod finished grimly.

"Meanwhile, you should go downstairs. Talk to Gabrielle." She sighed as MacLeod's shirt slid free and her hands savored warm, muscled skin. "I love you," she whispered. "Adore you. Trust you."

Her lips curved. "And I want you madly, MacLeod. Did I make that plain enough?"

MacLeod closed his eyes, his fingers digging into her shoulders.

They barely noticed the footsteps moving back down the hall.

Breathless and greedy, they stripped away the remaining clothes between them. His hands tightened. "Look at me, Hope. Watch me loving you."

"With greatest pleasure."

Against the desk, he set her, thigh to naked thigh. His breath was harsh, labored, as skin ground close and softness shifted.

Desire flared, keener now that they knew each other's pleasures. MacLeod shuddered, fighting for control. This time he wanted to see her, watch her pleasure flood through her eyes, hear her wild gasp of climax.

"So, MacLeod," Hope whispered. "How are my...amenities?"

"Extraordinary," he rasped. "Beyond description." He cupped her hips, filling her with slow, maddening power that left them both giddy.

"Is that good?"

His hands tightened as he drew her back, his lips to her neck. "Definitely...five stars."

"Show me," she whispered. "Now before I die."

He trapped her, possessed her. She arched blindly, closing around him, greedy for his heat. Hot and fast, he took her up, then up again, while her nails dug into his back and she gasped out his name.

He filled his lungs with the scent of her, stored away the sound of her soft, breathless moans. He prayed the memories wouldn't have to last him.

Then MacLeod forgot everything else as he took her up one last time, then dragged her against him while he followed her down where nothing remained but love shimmering around them.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE.

SOMETHING DRIFTED OVER the floor. Idly Hope watched gray shadows spin across the rug.

No doubt she was dreaming. After the things that Ronan had done to her in the past three hours, she expected that serious hallucinations were only to be expected. Lust did that to a person.

No, love did that to a person, she thought.

Her lips curved as the movement of the shadows over the rug made her think of Ronan's eyes, shadowed with passion when he finally pulled her down onto the bed. And his mouth, that cocky, clever mouth that made her forget her own name.

Hope drew a deep breath. Acrid air burned her throat.

Smoke. No illusion this time, and no dramatic creation by Jeffrey. Glenbrae House was on fire.

She threw back the covers just as the door slammed open.

Grimly Ronan tossed her a heavy robe. "There's smoke all along the stairs. You've got to go."

Shivering, Hope tugged on the robe and boots. "What about the others?"

"Jeffrey and I are searching for them." He pulled her against his chest, his mouth savage. Then with a curse he released her. "No time. It's getting worse by the second."

Outside, the air was crisscrossed by dank ribbons of smoke, and the reality of their danger hit Hope like a blow. "We can't let Glenbrae House burn. There's so much history here, so much love."

"It won't burn. I won't let it," he said grimly. "But first you must leave." MacLeod guided her down the stairs through drifting smoke that made her eyes water.

Smoke danced madly as they ran back toward the kitchen. "Where are w-we going?"

"Outside through the back entrance. The roof will go if those flames catch hold. The clay I put in is no protection against this kind of fire."

Hope shuddered as MacLeod pushed her through the kitchen, shoved open the inner glass door, then closed it securely before opening the heavy outer barrier of wood.

Gabrielle and Jeffrey were huddled in the center of the courtyard, arm in arm. Nicholas Draycott carried Genevieve on his broad shoulders. The girl was pale, trying not to show her fear as she clutched at her mother's hand.

Suddenly Genevieve stiffened. "Mr. G-Gibbs. He's inside in the fire." She struggled to slide down from her father's back. "His fur will catch on fire. I've got to find him."

MacLeod turned, frowning. "Which room?"

"The B-Blue Bedroom. On top of the dr-dresser, I think."

Dear God, he's going back in for a stuffed animal. Hope caught MacLeod's hand as Nicholas Draycott strode forward and said, "MacLeod, I can't let you do this."

"You stay here and take care of your wife and daughter."

"It's out of the question."

Genevieve's voice cracked. "But, Daddy-"

"No. I'll buy you another Mr. Gibbs. A dozen of them, Vee. We can't risk a man's life for that."

The girl bit back a watery sob. "I guess...you're right."

MacLeod clasped her hand hard, then turned. "Not just for the child. I saw something at the upper window just now." His eyes hardened. "Someone could still be inside."

Hope turned. Dark clouds feathered through an open window near the roof. "But you can't go back in." She reached out for MacLeod, a thousand protests on her lips.

All of them were too late. He was already gone.

SMOKE COILED over the roof.

Hope paced back and forth over the snow, watching for a single angry spark to leap to the thatch.

One would be enough.

One speck of flame and everything she owned would be lost.

She barely heard the crunch of snow beside her. Detective Sergeant Kipworth cleared his throat, as if he was out of breath. "I just checked the rear window. The fire appears to be coming from the library."

Hope bit down a ragged wave of panic. MacLeod had broken every rule of nature to cross time to find her, and she wasn't going to lose him now. Even the precious book they had found inside the gargoyle meant nothing compared to losing MacLeod.

"I can't bear waiting. I'm going back in."

The officer clamped a restraining hand on her shoulder, studying her face. "You love that house, don't you?"

Hope nodded, feeling tears slide down her cheeks.

"There's nothing else that comes close, is there?"

"Only one. Right up there." Her eyes sought the upstairs window, watching for a hint of movement.

Let him come. Please, God, let him come now.

"There's something you left inside?" The sergeant sounded worried.

"Someone. A man who's too honorable for his own blasted good."

Kipworth turned, following her gaze. For an instant a man's tall body was outlined against the upper window. "I thought everyone was out." Kipworth made an angry, impatient sound and turned his collar up around his face. "Bloody stupid fool."

He was still cursing as he strode back into the smoke-covered house.

SECONDS CRAWLED BY, each marked by an eternity of agony. Where was he? Why didn't he come?

Something wet slid over Hope's fingers. She realized she had scooped up a handful of snow, which was melting between her clenched fists. Her nails bit into her skin, but she barely felt the pain.