Countdown (13 page)

Go to sleep. It’s not going to do any good to worry about the arrogant bastard. Don’t think about him.

But where the hell had he gone?

7
                                                                                          

I
went to the village and bought you a perfectly splendid wardrobe,” Bartlett said as he met her at the bottom of the steps the next morning. “Well, perhaps not splendid. The village only has a few shops. Splendid indicates ball gowns and velvet wraps, and I went for slacks and cashmeres. But very fine quality. Though you look much better in our clothes than we ever did.”

“Sure I do.” She wrinkled her nose as she looked down at the loose jeans and navy crewneck sweater she was wearing. “I appreciate the sacrifice but I’ll be glad to get into something that I don’t trip over. Were you able to get my sketchbook?”

Bartlett nodded. “That was a little more difficult. But I found a drugstore and they had a meager supply.”

“I’m surprised you were able to get anything this early. It’s only a little after nine.”

“The lady who owned the clothes shop was kind enough to take pity on me and open early. I guess I must have looked a bit forlorn standing out in front of her window. Nice lady.”

And Jane could see how that nice lady’s heart would have melted enough to open her doors to Bartlett. “Thank you for going to the trouble. You could have waited.”

“A woman always feels better when she’s not at a disadvantage, and most women connect fashion with self-esteem. Of course, you’re not most women, but I decided it wouldn’t hurt.” He turned toward the door. “I’ll go get the packages out of the car.”

“Wait.”

He looked back at her. “You need something?”

She shook her head. “I saw someone standing outside the stable last night. Blond, thin, boyish. Do you know who it was?”

“Jock Gavin. One of MacDuff’s employees. He has a room in the stable and trails around behind MacDuff like a puppy dog. Nice lad. Very quiet. Appears to be a little slow. He didn’t bother you?”

“No, I only saw him from the window. He seemed to be very interested in something in the castle.”

“As I said, Jock isn’t quite there. No telling what he was doing. If he troubles you, just let me know and I’ll have a talk with him.”

She smiled as she watched him hurry out into the courtyard. What a dear man he was, she thought affectionately. There weren’t many people who were as caring as Bartlett.

“Good God, Bartlett strikes again.”

Her smile vanished as she turned to face Trevor. “I beg your pardon?”

He gave a mock shiver. “Just a comment. I wasn’t insulting Bartlett. I stand in awe of his power over your sex.”

“He’s a gentle, caring man.”

“And I suffer by comparison. I accept my lot after being with Bartlett all these years.” He gazed after Bartlett. “Why was he being so protective about Jock Gavin? Did he approach you?”

“No, I just noticed him staring at the castle last night and wondered who he was.”

“I’ll tell MacDuff to keep him away from you.”

“I’m not worried about the poor kid talking to me. I only wondered who he was.”

“And now you know. Breakfast?”

“I’m not hungry.”

He took her elbow. “Then juice and coffee.” He felt the muscles of her arm stiffen beneath his touch and said roughly, “For God’s sake, I’m not going to jump you. You don’t have to be afraid of me.”

“I’m not afraid.” It was the truth. It wasn’t fear that had caused her to tense. Shit, she didn’t want this. She pulled her arm away from him. “Just don’t touch me.”

He took a step back and held up his hands. “Is this good enough?”

No, because she wanted those hands on her again, dammit. “Fine.” She turned and strode toward the kitchen.

He caught up with her as she opened the refrigerator door. “It’s not fine,” he said quietly. “You’re as prickly as a porcupine and I’m—well, we won’t discuss my state at present. But we’d both be more comfortable if we could reach a compatible relationship.”

“I’ve never been comfortable with you.” She took out the carton of orange juice. “You never wanted me to be. You have to know someone to be comfortable with them, and you don’t want anyone to know you. You just want to glide along on the surface and occasionally dip your tail feathers.”

“Dip my tail feathers?” His lips twitched. “Is that a euphemism for what I think it is?”

“Take it for whatever you like.” She poured orange juice into a glass. “It means the same. You want it down and dirty? I can give it to you. Street kids learn every filthy term in the book. As you told Mario, I’m no delicate flower.”

“No, you’re not. Actually you rather resemble that vine that grows down in Georgia. Gorgeous, strong, resilient, and give it a chance and it takes over the world.”

She took a sip of her orange juice. “Kudzu? It’s a nuisance weed.”

“That too. Very troublesome.” He smiled. “Because you’re unpredictable. I fully expected you to go on the attack this morning. You can’t stand anything not being out in the open. But you’re not doing it. You’re drawing back. I had to go after you.” He studied her. “I must have really upset you. You’re not ready. You’re biding your time.”

Christ, he knew her well. “You didn’t upset—” She stared him in the eye. “Yes, you upset me. You wanted to upset me. You can’t stand not being in control and you thought you’d throw me a curve. You were trying to manipulate me.”

“Why would I do that?”

“You didn’t want me to ask questions and it was easier to distract me with—”

“Sex?” He shook his head. “Nothing easy about it. You want to ask questions? Do it.”

She drew a deep breath. “Joe says you’re into something very ugly. Are you?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re not going to tell me what?”

“I will eventually. Any other questions?”

She didn’t speak for a moment. “Where did you go last night when you left the castle?”

His brows lifted. “You saw me?”

“I saw you. Where did you go?”

“The Run.”

“What?”

“It’s better seen than described. I’ll take you there if you like.”

“When?”

“Tonight after dinner. I have work to do today.”

“What kind of work?”

“Research.”

“You said that before. Studying the scrolls, no doubt.”

He nodded. “Among other things. I’m trying to put the pieces together.”

“What pieces?”

“I’ll go over it with you after I have the whole picture.”

Her hands clenched in frustration. “And what am I supposed to be doing until then?”

“Explore the castle, take a walk in the courtyard, sketch, call Eve again and have her tell you what a scoundrel I am.”

“Again? You know I called Eve?”

“You told me that Joe had found out I was dabbling in sin and brimstone.”

That’s right, she had. “But I didn’t tell you Eve called you a scoundrel.”

“She probably didn’t. She likes me. Grudgingly, but the feeling’s there. But I’m sure she felt it her duty to express her distrust.” He tilted his head, studying her expression. “And I assure you that I wasn’t listening in on your call. I don’t care what you tell Joe and Eve.”

She believed him. “I came here because I want answers. I’m not going to stay if I don’t get them. Two days, Trevor.”

“Ultimatum?”

“You bet your life.” Her lips twisted. “Does that phrase stimulate you? You like to gamble. You love the tightrope. For years you made a living counting cards in the casinos, didn’t you?”

“You always stimulate me. Are you coming to the Run with me tonight?”

“Yes. I want answers and I’ll get them any way I can.” She put down her glass in the sink. “Which is why I’m not going to go for a walk in the courtyard or explore the castle.” She turned toward the door. “I’m going to see Mario and see if he’s willing to be any more communicative.” She looked over her shoulder in sly satisfaction at his reaction. “Want to bet on that, Trevor?”

“No bet.” He met her gaze. “But you might remember that I’ll hold him responsible for any fall from grace and act accordingly.”

Her smile faded. Bastard. He couldn’t have said anything that would have been more likely to deter her. “What if I said I didn’t care?”

“You’d be lying.” He added curtly, “Run along. You’ve gotten the rise you wanted out of me. I’m sure Mario will be ecstatic to see you.”

Yes, she’d gotten the response for which she’d aimed, but she felt no triumph. She’d wanted to get her own back, anger him, pierce that cool, smooth facade. She’d done it, but he’d managed to turn victory into a stalemate.

“What did you expect?” Trevor’s gaze was on her face. “I’m not one of the boys you fool around with at Harvard. You play for high stakes, you should be ready to have your bluff called.”

She looked away from him and headed for the hall. “It wasn’t a bluff.”

“It better be.”

His soft words trailed after her as she started up the staircase. She wouldn’t look back. She wouldn’t let him see that his velvet threat disturbed her. Not frightened. Disturbed. There was an excitement, a tingling awareness of uncertainty and danger that she’d never experienced before. Was this Trevor’s tightrope? Is this what he felt when—

Forget it. Shrug it off. She’d find out what she could from Mario without making trouble for the boy, and tonight she’d find out more from Trevor.

The Run . . .

No, put Trevor aside, don’t think of him, smother this eagerness. Concentrate on Mario and Cira.

K
eep Jock Gavin away from Jane,” Trevor said as soon as MacDuff picked up the phone. “I don’t want him near her.”

“He won’t hurt her.”

“Not if you don’t let him within a hundred yards of her. She saw him last night and asked about him.”

“I’m not going to pen him up like an animal. He’s a twenty-year-old boy.”

“Who nearly killed one of my security guards because he thought he was a threat to you.”

“He startled Jock. He shouldn’t have been in the stable. I told you that was the only place in the castle that was off-limits to you.”

“You didn’t tell me you were keeping a pet tiger there. He had a garrote around James’s neck in two seconds, and if you hadn’t interfered, he’d have been dead in another three.”

“It didn’t happen.”

“And it’s not going to happen to Jane MacGuire. She has damn good instincts. If she asked about him, she must have sensed something wrong.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“See that you do. Or I will.” He hung up.

Dammit to hell.

MacDuff stuffed his phone into his pocket and turned and strode through the stable to the potting shed Jock had created in one of the back stalls. “I told you to stay away from her, Jock.”

Jock looked up, startled, from the gardenia he was transplanting into a terra-cotta pot. “Cira?”

“She’s not Cira. Jane MacGuire. I told you that I wasn’t upset with her. Did you try to go to see her last night?”

He shook his head.

“Then how did she see you?”

“They gave her the room you usually use. I could see her standing at the window.” He frowned. “They shouldn’t have done that. It’s your room.”

“It’s fine with me. I don’t care where I sleep.”

“But you’re the laird.”

“Listen to me, Jock. I don’t care.”

“I care.” He looked down at his gardenia. “This is a special gardenia from Australia. In the catalog it said it’s supposed to be able to stand very harsh winds and still live. Do you think that’s true?”

He felt his throat tighten as he looked at the boy. “It could be true. I’ve seen creatures go through unbelievable hardship and cruelty and still survive.”

Jock gently touched the creamy white petal. “But this is a flower.”

“Then we’ll have to see, won’t we?” He paused. “Your mother called me again. She wants to see you.”

“No.”

“You’re hurting her, Jock.”

He shook his head. “I’m not her son anymore. I don’t want to see her cry.” His gaze shifted to MacDuff’s face. “Unless you tell me I have to do it.”

MacDuff wearily shook his head. “No, I’m not going to tell you that.” He added, “But I’m going to tell you not to go near Jane MacGuire. Promise me, Jock.”

He didn’t answer for a moment. “When she was standing at the window, I could only see a kind of . . . silhouette. She stood very straight, with her head high. It reminded me of an iris or a daffodil. . . . It made me sad to think of breaking—”

“You don’t have to break anything or anyone, Jock. Don’t go near her. Promise me.”

“Not if you don’t want me to.” He nodded. “I won’t go near her.” He looked back at his gardenia. “I hope it lives. If it does, maybe next spring you could give it to my mother?”

Christ, sometimes life could be pure shit. “Maybe I could.” He turned away. “I think she’d like that.”

S
he saw the statue the moment she entered Mario’s study after she’d knocked.

The bust was on a pedestal by the window, and the brilliant sunlight touched it, surrounding it with radiance.

“Magnificent, isn’t she?” Mario got up from his desk and came toward her. “Come closer. She’s quite perfect.” He took her hand and led her toward the statue. “But perhaps you know that. Have you seen the statue before?”

“No, I’ve seen pictures of it but I’ve never seen the real thing.”

“I’m surprised Trevor didn’t show you. You’ve known him for a long time, haven’t you?”

“Sort of. But the time was never right,” she said absently, her gaze on Cira’s face. Even she could see the resemblance, but she was too caught up in the idea that this artist had actually seen Cira. Perhaps she’d even posed for him two thousand years ago. Yet the statue didn’t look old, and Cira’s expression was as modern as a photo in
People
magazine. She looked boldly out at the world, alert, intelligent, with a hint of humor in the curve of her lips that made her come vividly alive. “You’re right, it’s magnificent. I’ve been told there were many statues created of Cira, but this one has to be the finest.”

“Trevor thinks it is. He’s very possessive of her. He didn’t want to let me work in here but I told him that I needed inspiration.” Mario smiled mischievously. “It was a real victory for me. I don’t get many with Trevor.”