Elusive (15 page)

***

Alexandre Eduard Maigny arrived in Edinburgh
late on a Wednesday. While he wasn’t usually bothered by ocean
travel, the crossing from France had been especially rough this
time. A summer storm had arisen—so had the bile in his gut. Not in
the best of moods, to put it mildly, he stormed into the elaborate,
old hotel near the Edinburgh Castle. He purchased a suite and
ordered a bottle of their finest French champagne to be sent up to
his room. When he got his stomach calmed, he would go down to the
hotel restaurant for a good dinner, but right now he needed a bath
and good wine to calm him.

By the time the marble tub filled and he shut
off the steaming water that had been rushing out of the gilded
faucet, the waiter had brought the champagne. He waited until he
heard the waiter leave the suite. Then, naked as the day his mother
gave him life, he strode into the parlor, uncorked the bottle,
filled the fine crystal flute with the bubbling wine, and took both
the flute and the bottle into the bathroom. He climbed into the
large tub that accommodated even his height. As he lowered that
long, sinewy body into the heat, he sighed deeply. He enjoyed a
good soak in the hot bath to help his system settle, downing half
the bottle of champagne before the water turned tepid.

He dried his hair with one of the thick
towels, reached over to wipe down the gold-framed mirror over the
marble sink. The color under his eyes was fading, and his color in
general was better than it had been an hour ago. He didn’t find
green complimentary. He groomed his long black hair, shaved away
the day’s stubble, and splashed on his favorite cologne, grimacing
when his newly shaven face stung. The deep blue eyes that looked
back at him still looked tired, but he felt more human.

He dressed in his European clothing for
dinner, shot his cuffs, and went downstairs to get a light meal so
that he could collapse in bed shortly after he was finished. He
preferred dining with people around him. Few knew what an introvert
he truly was. His business acumen required that he fight that
tendency, so it pleased him when he could just relax and enjoy
being around others without having to converse with them. His
business affairs in France had taken a toll on his nerves, and then
there was the nasty business he was here to resolve. Damn, he
wasn’t usually so easily disturbed. Since his father’s death, he
had felt just a little…lost.

As he dined, he mulled over the last few
months. It wasn’t that he was unhappy about relocating to Scotland.
He loved it here—always had. His business affairs didn’t require
that he continue to live in France. It was all the legal
hassles—no, the damned lawyers—and the family intrigues that drove
him crazy. His cousins were a greedy bunch of bastards, and he
didn’t trust any of them any further than he could throw the ship
he had sailed in on. Why had his life become so complicated?

Then there was the matter of the girl. He
hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind. Of course, he knew
from his sources in Scotland that she and her uncle were out to try
to wheedle their way into the family’s inheritance. But, dear God,
she was a beauty! He felt his blood rush at the very thought of
her. There was something about her that didn’t fit the picture of a
con artist. But, then he supposed that was why they were so often
successful—especially if they were blonde, tiny, shapely and had
huge gray eyes.

He would have to be very sure he stayed away
from that one. She was pure trouble. But, if she persisted in her
plan, he would take care of the problem and, if necessary, squash
her and that plan like a bug.

***

The letters were in her safe deposit box. The
bubble bath had brought her exhausted body back to life, at least
long enough to dress and go down for dinner. She could have had
them bring the meal to the room…rooms, actually…she thought again.
As tired as she was, she would probably have been asleep before her
meal got to her, and she knew she needed nourishment. She was just
starting to gain back what weight she had lost since Roddy’s
death.

The suite in which she found herself was so
beautiful and spacious that she felt guilty just leaving her shoes
on the bedroom floor while she bathed. She felt slightly giddy
about all the luxury that surrounded her. She guessed she’d just
have to get used to a little luxury.

Giggling, she spun around in circles just
looking at everything. Giggling was something she tended to do when
she was exhausted, or energized, or happy, or…well, she admitted to
herself, she just tended to giggle like a schoolgirl.

Feeling much better than she had an hour ago,
she put on a little lipstick and just the smallest bit of her
favorite French perfume. Once she dressed, she picked up her
handbag and went downstairs for dinner.

The restaurant was exquisite. As Angus had
told her, the hotel was an old, historic building, with very high
ceilings and dark, aged beams high overhead. The restaurant décor
was pure Scotland. Heralds, family crests from various clans
surrounded the room. Suits of armor polished to a pewter-like sheen
were placed in all the corners. Swords—claymores—she corrected
herself, were hung on the walls in pairs. Candlelight gleamed from
the tables, and the dark iron chandeliers that looked as if they
had come from an old castle hung high overhead. They were suspended
far enough from the tables below that their light was dim and
seductive. The tables were set with the finest linens, silver, and
crystal.

Somehow, surrounded by the historic décor of
Scotland, she felt more at home than she ever had. It was so
strange to her that, for all her love of Paris, this place—so
different from Paris—should feel so very much like home.

The waiter seated her and provided a menu.
She didn’t think she was ready for Scottish fare quite yet. From
what she had heard, she thought it would take some getting used to.
She shivered at the thought of trying haggis. Maybe someday…not
now! She was pleasantly surprised to see that the chef offered a
variety of international cuisine. Able to order a meal that she
thought would sooth her weary system, she just enjoyed soaking up
the atmosphere.

After she had eaten, she reached once again
for her wine flute and suddenly became aware that someone was
staring at her. It started out as it usually did, first just the
awareness that she wasn’t
alone
, then the itch under the
skin that told her she was being watched.

When she finally dared look up, there he
was—dark, brooding, scowling at her with those deep blue eyes—one
brow raised as if he was surprised by what he saw. He didn’t
approach her, but signed for his meal, rose, and—after giving her
one more hot, glaring look—abruptly left the room. He moved like
the sleek black panther she had seen at the Paris zoo, she
thought.

It was a good thing she had already eaten.
Seeing him had unnerved her completely. Her stomach was clutching,
her knees were shaking. Blair, she thought to herself—no,
Blair…start getting used to it—
Rachel
, get a grip on
yourself. Get back to your room and figure out what has you so
shaken. Just get to your room! She motioned for the waiter, signed
her tab and shot out of the restaurant as fast as her shaking knees
would take her.

She made no stops, and went straight to her
room where she almost slammed the door behind her and stood there
leaning against it until her system leveled. What is he doing here?
No, surely he could not be the same man she saw at Roddy’s funeral.
Just as quickly as she thought it, she knew she was wrong. How many
dark, handsome, brooding men with gorgeous blue eyes—and that
mouth—could cross her path? She didn’t know what it meant, that she
would run into him in Paris and now here in Edinburgh. Who is he?
She was very afraid she was going to find out, and she wasn’t going
to like it.

***

She had caught him completely by surprise.
What the hell was she doing here and why now? He walked into the
bedroom and unfastened the tie he had had to suffer with throughout
dinner. Then he drew out the sapphire links at his wrists and
tossed them onto the antique dresser. He was disconcerted that she
crept back into his mind. He raked his long fingers through his
thick black hair in frustration.

Now that the so-called
uncle
was dead,
he had thought she would give up on the scam, or whatever it was
that they had planned. He was glad his contacts had gotten word to
him of the old man’s sudden death so that he could get a close look
at her during the funeral, without having to actually meet her. His
reaction to seeing her had surprised him, but then he did
appreciate beauty. And God knew she was a beauty. But he had
thought it was over and he would never have to deal with her.

Finally able to collapse onto the feather
bed, he closed his eyes and damned if he didn’t dream of her. He
awoke in the morning feeling drained and aching with a reminder of
the dreams.

**************************

Chapter 20: Alexandre To The Rescue

Edinburgh, Scotland – July 1912

She awoke groggy from the dream and the loss
of deep sleep that came with it. Then she realized that she
remembered it—at least some of it. She had been sad, so very, very
sad. Then fear had gripped her heart. She was being chased by the
faceless monster, and just as he was about to grab her he changed
form. He was now the dark man who grabbed her so tightly she had
been unable to get away. When she twisted in his grip, she had seen
the dark blue eyes and the sneering mouth. As he had lowered his
face to hers, she woke up shaking and damp with perspiration.

Letting the memory sink in, she wondered why
now? Why did all the fear, pain, and sense of loss in the dream
stay with her now? And why had the man inserted himself into her
dark fantasy?

As always, Blair put everything she had into
pushing aside the mood invariably caused by the dream. She took her
time preparing for her day. First a nice long soak in that
marvelous tub which brought memories of her apartment and Mssr.
LeGard. How she hoped he was well. She missed him terribly. By now
he would have realized that she was not just on vacation. He must
be so worried about her. There was nothing she could do to ease his
mind. She refused to drag him into the nightmare.

She climbed out of the big marble tub and
wrapped the thick, luxurious towels around her hair and body. Then
she moved to the closet where she selected the silk blouse and the
tailored slacks she had bought at the little shop across from the
hotel. It had cost a fortune, but it seemed she didn’t have to
worry about that any longer. It still felt like a dream.

She took extra time with her hair and
make-up, dressed, and went downstairs for breakfast. She would
indulge in having some coffee which she usually avoided due to its
effect on her nerves. Today, she thought, she was going to need to
be wide awake. She would be making plans to go to the village that
was part of the McDonnough estate. She would meet the people of the
village to find out what she could about the old Laird as well as
the new.

She entered the restaurant, was seated, and
put all her concentration on the menu.

“Mademoiselle?” The voice was deep, thickly
accented with French, and had her system unnerved immediately.

Startled, she looked up from her menu. That
face, those blue eyes, that mouth…she was looking into the face of
the mysterious man.

“Oui?” she responded automatically. Even with
the single word of response, she recognized that her voice was
shaky.

“Do you prefer to converse in French or
English?” he asked.

“English is fine, Monsieur.” She held out her
hand which he raised to his mouth for a polite touch of his lips to
her knuckles. The shock struck her immediately. Her whole system
was vibrating. I must stay away from the coffee, she thought to
herself. She took note of his hand, its wide palm and long, slender
fingers. His were beautiful hands. She wondered if he played the
piano. He certainly had the hands for it, and one of them had yet
to release her own.

“Let me introduce myself. I am Alexandre
Maigny, from Bretagne. We seem to keep running into one another,
and I thought perhaps we should meet,” he explained. Realizing he
still had her hand captured in his and had been rubbing his thumb
across her knuckles, he quickly released it.

Thinking that he sounded friendlier than he
looked, she wondered if he ever smiled with that marvelous mouth.
Feeling herself start to blush, she hesitated just slightly as she
remembered her need for secrecy, “Rachel Wallace. Please, Mssr.
Maigny, join me,” she invited. Why she did so, she couldn’t say.
Everything in her told her she should get away from him.

“Thank you, I will,” Alexandre responded. He
didn’t know what had possessed him to approach her but now, he
thought, perhaps he could find out what the hell she was up to and
why she was here in Edinburgh. The waiter approached and took their
orders. Then Alexandre turned to her and let his gaze settle on her
face. Once he got close she was even more striking than he had
given her credit for. The gray eyes had little blue flecks. The
light hair that from a distance he had credited to an expensive
salon was, undoubtedly, her own natural color—an amazingly pale
blonde. Her mouth—well, he found he didn’t dare let his mind go
there for long.

“Please call me Alexandre. Tell me, Rachel
Wallace, what brings you to Edinburgh?”

She loved the familiar French accent and felt
herself start to relax just slightly. “I am here on holiday. I
think it is a lovely country—all the historic buildings, the lovely
woolens, the tartans. I find myself very glad I came, and I am
hoping to see much more. And you, Monsieur?” she asked.