Bound by Dreams Read online

  Calan went absolutely still. He was almost certain the voice was Kiera’s, except it was slow and sultry, like a woman who was waiting to make love.

  No, that couldn’t be Kiera.

  He looked up the stairwell.

  The brigadier looked up.

  Two of the brigadier’s men looked up.

  A pin would have echoed in the sudden quiet as Kiera dangled one bare arm over the banister. A bracelet shimmered and her hair drifted over her face. As she moved, Calan saw the short, silky robe barely covering the top of her thighs. He felt a punch of desire.

  The men below were mesmerized.

  He’d been trying damned hard to keep her presence hidden, but now she left him no choice but to play along. Irritated, he managed to force a slightly amorous grin onto his face. “So sorry—darling. I’m afraid I’m going to be tied up after all. Why don’t you—”

  “No.” Kiera pushed newly crimson lips into a dramatic pout. She leaned back, and her hair fell in a way that made it cover her face. “You know I’ve been planning to get away for weeks. I want to be alone with you. I want it now.” Her voice was low and husky. “Why don’t you just make them go away and then come up here, Calan? We’ll have all afternoon.”

  Calan cleared his voice. “I’m sorry. It won’t be possible after all. Darling.”

  Up the stairs, Kiera swung around in a huff. “Fine. Since you seem to be too busy for me, I’m going home. Get your car and drive me back to town,” she said angrily.

  She stamped down the hall, tossing the robe over the rail behind her.

  Slowly, the bright silk fluttered down, landing at Calan’s feet.

  The brigadier slanted a glance at Calan. “Busy man, aren’t you, MacKay? Apparently, we’ve come at a very bad time…for personal reasons.”

  His officers were grinning now. One of them picked up the thin robe and handed it to Calan with a smirk.

  Calan hid his fury as he walked toward the staircase. “You could say that, yes. I’d better drive her back to town. There will be hell to pay otherwise.” He glanced at his watch. “Give me twenty minutes.”

  “Don’t let me interfere with your diversions. We’ll be here, doing our jobs, digging in the dirt and checking the power lines to the roof. By all means, take your time with the young lady,” the officer said acidly.

  “Twenty minutes.” Calan took the stairs two at a time. “And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t start digging anywhere on the grounds until I got back.”

  He was well aware that there was no answer from the brigadier as he and his men walked outside.

  “ALMOST THERE, darling. Be sure that you smile at the nice men.” Kiera was pressed against his chest, her face angled down out of view as Calan drove the Porsche back down the driveway.

  Kiera turned slightly, snuggling closer against his chest as they passed the brigadier.

  “I’m smiling,” Calan said grimly. “Just keep your head down.”

  He saw the brigadier’s thoughtful look as they drove on.

  Finally he let out a breath and felt Kiera relax slightly.

  “You took a big chance. If they had seen your face—”

  “But they didn’t, did they? I made certain of that.” Kiera sat up and smoothed her hair back out of her face. “That’s the only reason I would parade around in a skimpy silk kimono in front of strangers.”

  “You did an excellent job of parading. We were all transfixed,” he said drily. “It got you out safely.”

  She gave a quick glance over her shoulder. “Who were those men?”

  “A team from London. They’re doing some structural work at the abbey.” He kept the explanation brief, pulling out his cell phone.

  Nicholas Draycott answered on the second ring.

  “Nicholas? Calan here. Yes, I left the message. The brigadier and his people are here at the house. That’s right, I think you should get down here as soon as possible. I’ll be back in about twenty minutes. There’s something I need to take care of first.” He glanced at Kiera, who was staring out the window, her body rigid. “Yes, I’ll explain when I see you. Within the hour? Excellent.” He hung up.

  Kiera didn’t look at him.

  “You can’t keep avoiding him, you know.”

  “Can’t I?”

  “Let me rephrase that. You can—but it would be stupid, and you’re not a stupid person.” Unable to help himself, Calan reached over to smooth a last few strands of hair off her cheek. “I haven’t much time, but I’ll drop you at your hotel and see you inside.”

  “You don’t need to—” Her eyes narrowed. “You’re worried that I won’t be safe? What aren’t you telling me?” She took a short, angry breath. “Who am I kidding? There’s a whole continent of things you aren’t telling me.” She hesitated. “Are you going to mention this to…Nicholas Draycott?”

  “Not if you speak to him first.”

  He would help her, that much was true. But he would help her the way he knew would be best in order to bring this bitter misunderstanding to an end.

  “You’re not giving me much choice.” Her hands slid up and down the handle of her shoulder bag, and she turned to face him squarely. “Clearly those people back at the abbey were military. So why did they come storming in with no warning?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t tell you that.”

  “You mean, because it’s so secret. A covert government operation? Isn’t that a little trite?”

  They were almost at the village now, and Calan slowed to pass a delivery truck. “There’s nothing more I can tell you about it.”

  “Well, you won’t have to lie to me much longer,” she said firmly. “I’m leaving first thing in the morning.”

  “For where?”

  “Afraid I can’t tell you that.”

  Calan’s hands tightened on the wheel. He needed answers from her and he was getting tired of waiting for them. He wasn’t about to allow her to leave yet. “I know things haven’t gone smoothly today, so let me make it up to you. We’ll have dinner at a restaurant owned by a friend of mine. Butter prawns with red chile sauce. Shanghai street dumplings that melt in your mouth. Stir-fried asparagus with wood ear mushrooms, and chocolate ginger crème brûlée for dessert. Trust me, you won’t forget it. Then I’ll drive you to the coast. The beach in moonlight is something worth seeing.”

  She made a small sound. “Don’t.”

  “Don’t invite you to a fantastic dinner?”

  “Don’t try to seduce me.”

  “You’ve got to eat. Why not eat with me?”

  “Because this isn’t going any further.”

  As they turned the corner, Calan saw the top of the topiary trees at the side of the inn where she was staying. But now cars blocked the road. Two television vans were parked beside the sidewalk, and there was no hope of her getting inside without being seen.

  Kiera leaned toward the window. “What’s got the traffic tied up in knots?”

  “My guess is a society wedding. I just saw the bridal party leave the church across the street.” Calan stopped the car. Ahead of him the road was clogged. If he drove farther, he would be caught in the jam. His options had just dwindled.

  With the complications looming, he weighed his choices carefully and came to a decision.

  He backed up expertly, did a three-point turn and took a sharp right down a parallel street. Tricky, he decided. And he’d have to make arrangements with Nicholas by phone. Someone would have to go to the abbey immediately to work out the security plans with the brigadier.

  Kiera swung around, her eyes full of suspicion. “Where are we going?”

  “Since you can’t go back to your room until the furor dies down, I’ll take you to my home instead.” He glanced back, watching until he was satisfied that no one was following them.

  “On the phone you told him—” she forced out the words “—you told Nicholas Draycott that you would be back at the abbey shortly.”

  “And I will.” Calan took another look
in the mirror as he pulled onto the highway. “Now you may as well rest. I’ll wake you when we reach Ravenswood.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  NICHOLAS DRAYCOTT DRUMMED his fingers on the steering wheel, staring at the traffic ahead of him. What should have been a snappy drive from London now held the threat of taking more than two hours. Added to the traffic snarl, he’d had to pull off the road twice to take and receive mobile calls.

  He was still surprised by Calan’s departure from the abbey. It wasn’t like his friend to shirk responsibility, so there had to be a good reason. Nicholas wanted to believe it was personal, some kind of old attachment that required his presence. But as long as Nicholas had known Calan, the Scotsman had remained focused on his work, dating a variety of women but never lingering. None of his relationships moved into serious attachments. Ever.

  Nicholas glared at the traffic on the hill to the south.

  Not a single car was moving.

  Frowning, he pulled out his mobile phone.

  He knew the best person to contact. Over the years he had worked with an American security expert who was one step below a magician in his abilities with electronics. Ishmael Teague also had solid contacts and the highest government clearance. If interference had to be to run, Izzy would do it superbly.

  Nicholas waited impatiently for the call to go through.

  After much static a gruff voice answered. “Joe’s Pizza.”

  Izzy’s sense of humor hadn’t changed.

  “Nicholas Draycott here.”

  A pause. “Well, well. Nice to hear from the English aristocracy. Your family is all doing well, I hope.”

  “Excellent.”

  Another pause. “So this is business?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Nicholas said quietly.

  Somewhere a car door shut. “Okay. I can talk now.” Izzy’s voice was calm. “Let me have the details. Luckily, I’m just wrapping up another project.”

  NICHOLAS FELT slightly better as he rang off.

  Given Izzy Teague’s world-class security and electronics skills, he could field all questions the brigadier would throw at him. He would also make sure that the brigadier’s men didn’t attack the lawn or gouge out walls to lay down wires or surveillance cameras. Now, despite Calan’s absence, the abbey was in the best of hands. And that was just as well, Nicholas Draycott decided irritably.

  The traffic, snarled south along the M25 as far as the eye could see, was going nowhere.

  And neither was he.

  AFTER HE CLOSED his cell phone, Izzy Teague pulled back onto the road. It wasn’t far to Draycott Abbey, and he knew the winding country roads from memory.

  The beautiful granite walls were equally clear in his memory. He respected the abbey’s owner. Even more, he counted the man his friend after their work together over the years. Whatever Izzy could do to help, he would.

  Only one thing bothered him. He was certain that he’d heard the name Calan MacKay before, but the details eluded him. Had it involved some kind of humanitarian mission overseas? He had the sense the man was connected with satellite software of some sort.

  Since he couldn’t pull up any files while he was driving, Izzy would have to go in cold. The thought left him uncomfortable. He didn’t believe in working with people he hadn’t researched. Experience had taught him that when you were unprepared, every little detail could backfire in your face.

  With luck, this time might be different.

  Except Izzy Teague didn’t believe in luck.

  THE HEDGEROWS FLEW PAST.

  Kiera watched hills dotted with sheep run into tiny villages with small stone cottages. As they drove east, the throb of the engine, coupled with Calan’s expert driving, eventually made her relax.

  She yawned.

  Five minutes later she slid into a strange dream where huge black cars drove in slow circles around the abbey while she stood shivering beside the moat, wearing only a silk kimono and a pair of white gloves. She waved, trying to make them stop.

  The cars didn’t pay any attention. They lumbered on, then veered toward the house. In a moment they were all going to crash into the abbey’s front door. She tried throwing her gloves at them, but the gloves turned into owls and then into some kind of wolf.

  She shuddered, lurching upright. Barely awake, she felt her hand slam into Calan’s shoulder. “Stop. Have to—make them stop.”

  “Kiera.” He gripped her arm, smoothed her hand. “It’s a dream. Nothing’s wrong.”

  She blinked, swallowing hard. Why had it felt so real? What had happened to those strange animals? “Sorry about that.”

  She brushed at her eyes. They were on a narrow winding road. Below them sheep grazed in the low marshes along the ocean in a scene of timeless peace. Even the power lines blended into the woods above the road.

  As Kiera sat up and stretched, she forced the dream from her mind. Calan had been right about one thing: she couldn’t keep avoiding him or what had happened between them. Maybe the circling cars were a warning that something had to give.

  Armchair analysis?

  She gave up trying to understand the dream and tried to picture Calan’s house instead. Probably full of minimalist rooms with pale furniture. Sleek windows, no curtains and lots of modern art.

  Looking down, she realized his tweed jacket was draped over her shoulders. The smell of his skin blended with tantalizing hints of leather and sandalwood. All of it tangled in her senses, rich with Calan’s presence. Every detail of tweed and man was seductive.

  Powerfully male.

  Trying to ignore the intimacy of wearing his jacket, feeling every movement of the rough wool sliding against her bare arms, she sat up straighter. The last bars of golden sunlight covered the road. It wouldn’t be long until twilight. “How much farther to Ravensgate?”

  “Ravenswood.”

  “Nice name. Is it much longer?”

  He didn’t answer. When she glanced over, his gaze was focused on the top of the hill. His hands seemed tense on the steering wheel.

  “We’re there.”

  A house appeared in the golden light, all twisting spires and vine-covered walls. Honey-colored stone met stained-glass windows beside a small garden that spilled in irregular lines, looking even older than the house.

  Enchantment.

  The word leaped into her mind. The sense of place and age was unmistakable, as was the love of a careful owner.

  Her breath caught as they came closer. Plane trees grew in an arch over the road. Up ahead, beyond an ornate metal gate, Kiera saw the curve of a driveway. The cobblestones were smooth with age, worn to a beautiful gray-pink, and a rugged sculpture of a wolf brooded from a rise beyond the gate.

  She realized they were slowing down. Calan stopped and set the brake, then strode to the big ornate gate. After unlocking it, he pulled back the heavy ironwork, giving Kiera a clearer view of the house.

  When Calan walked back to the car, he looked younger, more relaxed. There was an unmistakable pride of possession in his face.

  “This is really yours?”

  He nodded, his eyes never leaving the view ahead. “I’ve been gone too long. The trees need to be trimmed, and the roses are top-heavy.”

  “It all looks lovely to me. And…not at all what I expected.”

  “I suppose you pegged me for sheer glass walls and Swedish modern furniture. Abstract art in plain white rooms.”

  She gave a guilty laugh. “Something like that. Nothing like this. It’s lovely.”

  “Look.” He nodded in the direction of a small summerhouse beneath a huge oak tree. A family of red deer ranged around the old building, grazing calmly.

  Suddenly the old stag raised his head, showing huge antlers. He stared up the hill toward Calan and the car, and the air seemed to crackle with a strange sense of awareness between the two. The big stag stood stiffly, then pawed the ground with a battle-worn hoof. It almost seemed to be a mark of respect, one old warrior to another.

  Calan
hadn’t turned. She realized that he was still watching the woods, his hands gripping the wheel.

  He seemed to be waiting for something.

  “Calan, what’s wrong?”

  “It’s…nothing. I thought I saw something, but I was wrong. Let’s get you settled, shall we?”

  It was all beyond strange.

  Yet something about the quiet dell made her feel welcome. Inside, the house carried a similar sense of intimacy and welcome. Kiera’s first impression was of exquisite old tartans and blue-gray walls with very fine prints. Calan moved quickly through the downstairs rooms, showed her the three upstairs bedrooms, then vanished to make a call.

  When he came back, he was wearing a fleece jacket. He looked distracted. “I have to go back to the abbey. I don’t like leaving you alone this way, but Aunt Aggie will be over shortly.”

  “Aggie?”

  “My great-aunt. She’s English, and this was her home until about ten years ago, when I bought it. She married my great-uncle Duncan.”

  “But isn’t your home in Scotland?”

  Something locked down in his eyes. “Not anymore. And that’s a story for a different day.” He leaned down, picking up a big canvas bag near the door. “Make yourself at home. Poke about if you like. Use the library freely. I have some fine old prints there.”

  The beautiful inlaid mahogany clock in the hall began to chime, a reminder of the duties that called him away.

  Kiera walked with him toward the door. “I’ll be fine. I’ve got my knitting and a dozen proposals to finish. I doubt I’ll even notice you’re gone.”

  That was a serious lie. She’d notice every second of his absence. She was too honest not to admit it to herself.

  “I may be back late, so don’t wait up. Try to get some rest.” He shifted the heavy bag, frowning. He seemed to be assessing her body language and missing nothing. “You won’t run off, will you?”

  Kiera shook her head. “Not tonight. I make no promises about tomorrow.”

  “I’ll accept your word on that. By the way, say hello to Aggie for me. Tell her I’ll catch up about the mail and any estate matters.”