Chapter 1

Early one Friday morning in December, Jessica Fletcher placed an international phone call to Chief Inspector George Sutherland, hoping to catch him in the office before he left for the weekend.

"Sutherland," he answered.

"George? It's Jessica. How are you?"

"Lass? It's lovely to hear your voice."

"It's wonderful to hear your voice, too. Have I caught you at a bad time?"

"Never. How are you, Jess?"

"I'm well. It's…been a long time, George."

"Aye, too long. Is it too much to hope you are ringing me to tell me you are heading across the pond?"

"Well, possibly. George, I need a favor."

"Of course, anything."

"George, I wondered if I could come to Wick and stay for a few weeks to do some research? I have an idea for a new book to be set in Scotland and I thought if I could stay at Wick, I could travel around to a few different areas, as well as lock myself away in a room for a while and write."

"Absolutely. When were you thinking of arriving? I can have the staff prepare a room or suite of rooms for you depending on what you need."

"Well, I was thinking about coming over in January, right after the new year. I know it's terribly cold then, but it is here as well, so I don't think it matters which cold location I am in. Besides, you have those lovely huge fireplaces that span the length of a room. I can sit in front of one and I'll be quite cozy."

"That will be fine, lass. Although, I am not sure you have experienced cold quite like a castle with frigid stone walls and drafts, and no central heating. But there are radiators and fireplaces in every room, and there are plenty of blankets. Send me the dates and I'll make sure the staff are prepared. Perhaps I can come up from London and see you for a few days while you are there."

"I do hope so, George. It wouldn't be right being at Wick and not seeing you. It's been a long time."

"Aye, far too long."

There was a pause. Jessica considered telling him that she did want to spend time with him while she was there, that she had been doing a lot of thinking and she no longer knew why she had been so hesitant when it came to becoming involved with him. He had never pushed, even as he had consistently made his feelings known.

But she did not say anything further, which was hardly surprising. For whatever reason, her mind always held back with George, even when her body wanted to lunge forward.

Instead, she said, "Thank you, George. I'll be in touch."

"Goodbye, Jess."

Hitting the end button on her phone, she considered the last time that she saw George Sutherland. It was about six months ago and they were the closest they had ever been to becoming romantically involved. Once again, they had solved another murder and when it was wrapping up, they were together in her suite at the Savoy. There was a bottle of wine and neither of them had eaten enough and they were seated on the loveseat overlooking the picture window showing them the night sky of London with hundreds and hundreds of lights everywhere.

"Lass?"

"Yes, George?"

He turned to her, pulling her attention from the view out the window and to his green eyes, as he asked, "May I kiss you?"

She had nodded, closing her eyes, already thinking that may have been a bad idea, as she felt him move towards her, his warm lips touching her own, as he reached his arms around her body, pulling her closer to him.

When she consented to the kiss, she had thought it would be like all the rest, nice, but fairly platonic. More of a 'I care for you' kiss, then a 'I'm going to take you to bed' kiss. But as he kissed her, he became more passionate, as his hands began to move up and down her back, before his right hand went up into her hair, starting to clench it, which caused an involuntary cry to come out of her mouth. It wasn't painful, but it was startling.

She had realized that her body was coming alive with long dormant emotions and sensations. A word she had not thought of in ages came to mind and it was shocking.

Aroused. She was becoming aroused.

He pulled away, chest heaving for air, even as she realized that her own breathing was mirroring his.

He met her eyes at first, but then broke contact, as he appeared uneasy.

"I'm sorry, lass. I started to lose control. Forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive, George."

He reached to touch her cheek with his fingertips, before whispering, "You wouldn't say that if you knew what I wanted to do right now."

She swallowed. What did he mean? She had always felt safe with George, but he must be referring to more than he just did. Even so, she was not trying to stop the kiss when he ended it. It was more than she thought it would be, but she had been immersed in it.

Despite trying to reassure him, he prepared to leave shortly thereafter. Following him to the door, she kissed him on his cheek and then, he was gone.

Jessica sighed. While she wasn't sure if she was ready to go to bed with him, she had finally been honest with herself. She wanted to experience closeness again with a man. And she supposed that would include going to bed together. It had been more than a decade since Frank passed and she had been lonely.

While Jessica and George usually made an effort to talk throughout the year and through email, it had always been more challenging to maintain a relationship when they didn't see each other regularly. She knew it was both their faults, and she was even willing to admit that the blame was more on her side. But as she had not exactly given him much encouragement over the years, she was not surprised that he had let the intensity of their interaction last summer fade with the passing of time. George had always been rather open about his feelings for her, while she had hidden her emotions behind excuses. Over time, he had tempered his responses to her to mirror her own, which she was sure allowed him to save face, as well as keep his feelings in check. Yet, she was confident that if George knew the direction her thoughts had taken since that last night in London, he would make more of an effort to see her.

As she pondered seeing him again, she decided that if for whatever reason he could not make the journey to Wick while she was there, she would find a way to see him in London before returning home. The conversation that she was ready to have with him needed to be in person, preferably with the opportunity for affection in private.

G/J

Jessica flew directly into Edinburgh after the first of the year, negating any possibility of seeing George in London before she traveled to his castle in Wick. George had been an absolute dear as she knew he would be, telling her that while the castle was closed in the month of January for hotel guests, to give the staff a well-deserved break from working the rest of the year, he would keep the cook employed and one of the housekeepers. The cook would come in once a day from the local village, making Jessica three meals to store in the refrigerator for her to reheat whenever she wanted. The housekeeper, likewise, would come in for an hour or two every morning, taking care of the area of the castle that she was going to stay in, and then leave again, freeing her to have plenty of time alone.

George had questioned Jessica to make sure that she would not be uncomfortable staying in such a big space with no one else in attendance at night. Despite researching crime and writing murder mysteries, Jessica thought she would be fine. In fact, she was eagerly looking forward to the solitude, as she rarely had such idyllic isolation in her life anymore.

While she had been to Wick once before at Christmas, she had never been in the dead of winter and she knew that the excitement of the holidays would have shifted to the cold, dreary desolation of the far north, days with little daylight and weather that could change in an instant.

Regardless, Jessica was excited and when she arrived in Wick late in the afternoon in early January, a local man from the village picked her up and drove her the short distance to the castle.

"Ach, now, are you sure you don't need anything else, Mrs. Fletcher?"

The short hunched over, elderly man waved off her help with her luggage, carrying and wheeling it all inside himself, telling her to follow him, as he had been told where she was staying inside.

Following him up the wide staircase, the carpet muffled their steps, and he led the way down a long hallway.

"The laird said that you were to be given his suite of rooms. I believe he thought you would be more comfortable, as the radiators are newer in this section of the castle, and the en suite has a soaking tub."

George was giving her his room? Where would he stay if and when he came to see her?

Stepping inside the suite, Jessica realized why he had made the call though. It was enormous. There was a sitting room with a long deep sofa in front of the fireplace. A desk faced the window, letting in the last light from the day, even though it could hardly be called sunshine.

To the right, was the entryway into the bedroom, which had a queen-size bed with a lovely dark wood headboard. The room was dark blue and moody, yet cozy and comfortable. Very much like the man who inhabited it when he was in residence.

The older gentleman pointed where he had left her luggage against the wall, then pulled a piece of paper from his pocket.

"That's my number, Mrs. Fletcher. Ring if you need anything. Day or night."

"Oh, thank you, Mr. Blair. That is very kind."

"Not at all, this can be a mighty big place to stay on your own. Sure you will be alright?"

Nodding, she assured him that she would be fine. Making sure she remembered how to find her way to the kitchen, he told her that the cook and housekeeper had already been for the day, but left her food to heat as well as their numbers on the counter, if she needed help finding anything.

Five minutes later, Mr. Blair was gone. Taking out her cell phone, she carefully entered his number to save, before taking it to the kitchen and saving the cook and housekeeper's numbers that had been left for her as well. She also pocketed the back door key they had set out for her.

Reading over their notes, she found the food that had been prepared for her, and went about heating up some soup and what looked like a shepherd's pie of sorts that had lamb and vegetables in it with potatoes on top.

The smells from the food made her stomach growl. She had been so busy traveling there today that she realized apart from the tea on the train with a small biscuit, she had not eaten since the flight.

Sitting down at the worn wooden table that was gleaming under the kitchen lights, she ate in silence. There were no sounds anywhere. It was a little unsettling, but she knew she was in a safe area of the country, despite the murders that had happened over the years, the most recent when she and her Cabot Cove friends visited a number of years ago now.

It was now dark outside and she was grateful that George's suite had a gas fireplace, as she did not relish trying to start a fire in one of the other larger fireplaces tonight. She knew the ones in the great hall and the smaller den were probably fully stocked with wood and would only take a little bit of effort to get a roaring fire going, but she knew she would be more than content to head off for a bath and bed. She was far too exhausted after her day of traveling, as she felt the weariness set into her bones.

Returning to the bedroom, she did use the landline by the bed to call George first to let him know of her arrival.

"Lass, is that you?" George answered.

Answering that it indeed was, she confirmed that she was safe at the castle, thanking him for letting her use his suite.

"I'm glad that they listened to me and got it ready for you. There is another suite that is about the same size in the same wing, but it's being renovated during off season, as there were some plumbing issues in the en suite. I thought you would be most comfortable in my suite and that way, if you wanted to hibernate while writing, apart from leaving for food, you could stay tucked away all day long and not be bothered."

"I appreciate you thinking of me," she said, but he must have sensed her hesitancy, because he asked if anything was wrong.

"Oh no, nothing is wrong. I…guess I wondered if this meant you weren't planning on coming to stay when I'm here. I had hoped to spend some time with you."

"Never fear, lass. I know you plan on staying for three weeks and I promise to come for at least a long weekend if not longer. In fact, I'm hoping to come up at the end of this week, just to alleviate any concerns you have that it may not happen."

"I do hope so, George. The last time I saw you…"

She wasn't sure what to say, even though they had never spoken about the heat that had happened between them that night in London over the summer that had nothing to do with the weather outside.

"I'm sorry, Jessica. I should have apologized formally long ago. I let my urges get the better of me."

"Don't, George…" she said firmly, not trying to sound harsh, yet making sure she had his attention before continuing. "Please don't apologize for that night. I loved it."

"You loved it?" He asked in disbelief.

"Yes." Waiting to see if he would say anymore before he forced her hand, she was rewarded when she heard him sigh. She knew he was off balance, but she continued to wait.

He spoke after a few moments, "Jess, I don't think you realized where my mind had gone that night. It wasn't very gentlemanly and I was shocked by my behavior."

"You indicated that, but George, you didn't do anything wrong by kissing me. I welcomed it and I was reciprocating. Couldn't you tell?" She asked, trying to convey a bit of teasing in her voice.

"Yes, I know, Jess, but I was actively thinking of what else I wanted and I almost acted on it."

Her heart began to pound. What was he saying?

"Tell me." Another sigh from him. "Please, George."

"I wanted…to pick you up and carry you to bed, taking off your clothes as quickly as I could. I wanted to be inside you, lass, losing control with your body under my own until you came apart under my touch."

She could not think properly. Had she even taken a breath recently? Taking a huge inhale, she let it out much slower. She knew her heart was in her throat, as she tried to clear it.

"I knew it would frighten you. I'm so…"

She interrupted him.

"I'm not frightened."

"You aren't?"

"Should I be? You weren't suggesting you would have forced me?"

"Of course not! But I suppose I was afraid of not being a gentleman that night even so."

"In what way?"

"Well, I wanted to seduce you and I was afraid I would pressure you to go to bed with me and that made me realize I should leave. I couldn't live with myself if we had and you had regretted it."

"I see."

"So, now you understand why I didn't tell you that night. Much better that I just took my leave."

"On the contrary. I am wondering what would have happened if you had told me that is where your mind went that night."

"What?" He asked.

"Oh, I think you heard me."

"Aye, I did. I can't believe it."

"Why not? I'm a sexual being, too, you know. I may not have gone to bed with a man in many years, but I have before and enjoyed it immensely," she answered dryly.

"What are you saying, Jess?" His voice was soft and plaintive, almost pleading to understand.

"I'm saying…that when you visit, we should stay open to the possibilities."

She heard him swallow, even as the pause continued, until she began to wonder if the line had disconnected. Had she read him wrong? Or said something to upset him?

Before she could decide what to say, he spoke again, "Alright, Jess, we will stay open."

Saying goodbye and him assuring her that if he could not get away this coming weekend, he would let her know soon, she placed the phone back in the receiver.

Walking over to the fireplace, she engaged the gas and lit the fire, sitting back on her heels for a few moments as the heat from the flames warmed her face, even though their conversation had done that already.

Why was it so hard to discuss intimacy? After many years of marriage, she and Frank had been able to discuss it with minimal embarrassment, hedging or prevarication, but they also reached such a deep level of intimacy over time that discussion was often not needed either. But she did remember the early years, especially when she was so young and too inexperienced to even know what she wanted or needed. Thankfully, Frank was traditional, believing he was responsible for her satisfaction, taking it upon himself to learn her body with the focus of a PhD student, making himself an expert over the years at how to touch her and love her to the point that she could only feel, losing all conscious thought and brain function when they were in bed together.

Shaking her head to pull herself away from that path, she did not want to become morose. Frank had loved her well and she had loved him in return. Their marriage had not been perfect, but it was built on a foundation of love and trust and she had been happy. And within the realm of intimacy, she had been very satisfied.

Smirking, she had a sense that if George and her ever made it to the bedroom, he would be able to please her as well. She did hope she would be able to please him. They had certainly waited long enough.

Standing back up, she moved to the bathroom. It was time to soak in a hot tub.