Draycott Eternal Page 32

  Ridiculous, of course. The cat no doubt lived here at Dunraven and had simply strayed over the glen in the fog.

  “So you’ve come home, have you?” The keen amber eyes closed with pleasure as Jamee bent and stroked the cat’s warm fur. He stretched, purring loudly.

  Rob slung his camera over his neck. “An old friend of yours?”

  “You could say that.” Jamee frowned, remembering the last time she had held the cat, while she ran from the roiling smoke. The cat stirred, stiffening beneath her hand, almost as if sharing the memory.

  Rob framed the roof in his camera. “I need to take some pictures out here, but if you’re cold, you can go inside. Maybe you’ll hear the phantom piper.”

  “Don’t tell me there’s a ghost.”

  “Several of them, actually. Kara says that the piper of Dunraven plays whenever a maiden of virtue enters the castle grounds.”

  That would leave her out, Jamee thought. She was no maiden. Given her feelings about Ian, she was a total flop in the virtue department. She thought of his hard chest streaked with water after a shower. His hands, callused and searching.

  “So,” Rob said, his camera clicking without a pause, “what do you want for Christmas? There must be something special on your list.”

  Christmas. Jamee had hardly thought about it. There had been too many other things to worry about. “One wish.”

  “For a friend, I’ll bet.” The young photographer’s hat slipped and he shoved it back down on his forehead. “You look like the type who wants things for other people.”

  “Maybe the right wish would touch all of us,” Jamee said softly, remembering the way Ian’s eyes crinkled when he laughed. She sighed at her foolish hopes. She didn’t know what she wanted right now.

  The cat looked up. Once again Jamee felt the amber eyes were far too keen. “What about you, Rob?”

  The photographer was looking toward the hills, his eyes narrowed. He was lost in a world of angles and F-stops as he disappeared around the side of the cottage, camera clicking.

  Opening the door, Jamee stepped into the shadowed hallway of Rose Cottage.

  IAN FROWNED at Angus McTavish, who was stringing rows of tiny colored lights above the back courtyard. “Is Jamee out here?”

  “I’m afraid I haven’t seen the young lady,” the Scotsman said, scratching his head. “Not since last night.”

  Ian frowned. Where could she have gone? It was ten o’clock precisely, but she wasn’t working. He had just come from the bedroom, which had been empty.

  His next stop was Kara’s office. He found her surrounded by a dozen models in various states of undress.

  “Did you want something, Ian?” Kara called.

  “Have you seen Jamee?”

  “Not since last night. Maybe you should ask Angus.”

  “I did. He hasn’t seen her, either.”

  Kara looked at Ian’s face, then dropped the ornate Victorian hat and followed him out into the hall. She put a hand on his arm. “Do you think something is wrong?”

  Ian frowned out at the ragged cliffs. “I don’t know. She could be anywhere, Kara. I told her not to go out without me.”

  “Have you tried Rose Cottage? She might have gone down for a look. It was her parents’ favorite place.”

  Rose Cottage. Ian muttered a curse and ran for the door.

  His heart was pounding as he sprinted down the path from the castle. Holly and yew boughs slapped at his legs beneath a sky of blinding blue and the sea churned up white ridges of foam at the foot of the cliff. Ian barely noticed. “Jamee? Are you there?”

  Over the hill a curlew cried sadly. Ian felt the cold touch of terror.

  The kidnappers could be anywhere, even hidden somewhere on Dunraven’s grounds. He should never have let Jamee out of his sight.

  There was no way to tell where or when they would strike next. And if something happened to Jamee…

  Ian shoved past a towering yew hedge. Rose Cottage stood haloed in sunlight thirty yards down the hill. His breath caught when he saw a slender figure standing beneath the towering oak tree.

  “Jamee.”

  Before the word left his mouth, a man bolted around the corner, headed straight for her. Ian pushed himself harder, pounding over the hill, but knew he couldn’t make it in time. Meanwhile, Jamee didn’t even see her assailant. She was standing on a ladder, stretching toward an overhead branch when the man appeared beneath her, pulling her down.

  “No,” Ian bellowed as Jamee toppled backward with a cry of surprise. His lungs were screaming for air when he pounded into the quiet glade where Jamee twisted with the man’s arms clamped around her shoulders.

  Ian didn’t stop for questions.

  With one powerful movement, he wrestled Jamee free, then slammed the man to the ground with a savage right uppercut. “Run,” he ordered, panting as he shoved her attacker facedown into the grass.

  She didn’t move. “Ian, don’t. You can’t—”

  “Go,” he growled.

  The man groaned and tried to raise his head. He was young, fresh-faced and frightened. Almost too young to be a kidnapper, Ian thought. But looks meant nothing. Years of experience had taught Ian that the most angelic face could hide a deranged mind.

  Ian’s eyes narrowed. There was something about that brown hair and the red baseball hat that seemed faintly familiar.

  “You don’t understand, Ian,” Jamee rasped. “That’s Rob, Hidoshi’s assistant. I was looking through the cottage while he took some photographs for Hidoshi. Then the cat got caught up in the tree.”

  Ian barely heard her. Fear and fury still hammered through his veins.

  “Ian, you’ve got to listen. Rob was simply taking some photographs. Then I called him to help me get down.”

  Photographs.

  Ian’s jaw clenched. Rob. Hidoshi’s assistant.

  Jamee was right. It had been the most innocent of adventures. There had been no threat to her at all.

  Silently, Ian lifted the befuddled photographer to his feet and straightened his jacket. “Sorry,” he said gruffly. “It appears I’ve made a mistake.”

  Rob blinked uncertainly and brushed off the back of his pants. “No problem.” He glanced from Ian’s scowling face to Jamee’s pale one. “I guess I’d better get back. You two probably want to talk. Or whatever…”

  As the bewildered photographer disappeared up the hill, Jamee whirled to face Ian. “Why didn’t you listen? He was just trying to keep me from falling off the stepladder.”

  “I act first and listen later,” Ian said harshly. “I told you not to leave without me.”

  “Hidoshi and Rob said you were down by the orchard. I couldn’t find you inside, so I thought…”

  “Next time have someone track me down. Don’t leave the house alone, understand?”

  “But I wasn’t alone. Rob was…” She stopped, seeing the coldness in Ian’s eyes. “You don’t trust him, do you?”

  “I don’t trust anyone I don’t know personally, Jamee. You’re my job. Keeping you safe is all that matters. If I make a mistake while I’m doing that, it’s too bloody bad.”

  Jamee stiffened. “There’s something else, isn’t there?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Something’s upset you. I can see it in your eyes.”

  Dammit, the woman saw too much. He didn’t mean to tell her that the kidnappers had vanished and he was back where he had started. He didn’t want to add to her anxiety.

  He shrugged. “You’re wrong.”

  “If there’s something else, I have the right to know, Ian. It’s me they’re following, not you.”

  “When I have solid facts, you’ll be the first to know.”

  “Will I?” Jamee snapped. “Or will you just go on cutting me out, blocking your feelings while you try to make yourself into some kind of perfect protection machine.”

  “You need a machine to protect you,” Ian said.

  “What I need is emotion
and honesty. You need them, too, Ian. Just as much as I do.”

  “Emotions cause mistakes. Emotions are dangerous.”

  “Maybe I need the kind of danger that comes with being honest emotionally. After all, you were the one who told me I shouldn’t settle for anything less.”

  “Jamee, listen.”

  “No, you listen. I want to touch you, Ian. Otherwise I’ll think about running, and if I run now I’ll always hate myself.”

  His eyes darkened. “You’re not a quitter, Jamee. There would be nothing wrong with leaving now and going back to the States.”

  “There you go, making it easy for me,” she muttered.

  “I want to make things easy for you, dammit.”

  “Why? That’s not part of your job any more than letting me wrap myself around you in the night is.”

  His lips curved faintly. “It’s a dirty job, but someone’s got to do it.”

  “Don’t joke about this, Ian.”

  “Why not?” His smile slowly faded. “If I don’t joke, I’m going to do something unbelievably stupid.”

  “Like?”

  Ian pulled her against the cottage’s weathered oak door and opened his hands over her shoulders. “Like kiss you,” he said hoarsely.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “RIGHT NOW, YOU MEAN?” There was a ripple of joy in her voice. The sound made Ian want to groan.

  “Right here.”

  “That’s fine with me.”

  Two security officers were patrolling the lower edge of the orchard, Ian knew. A third was watching from his post in one of the castle’s turrets. Ian made a hard sound and gave up to the angry singing in his blood. At the first taste of her mouth, desire flared through him. She shivered in the instant flush of heat and her body leaned into his.

  Ian forgot about being stoic. He pulled her against him with a low groan.

  The wind sang over the glen. The sky shimmered in a haze of light. Need exploded to the flashpoint.

  With exquisite care she kissed his eyelids while she murmured his name.

  “Why didn’t you run when you had a chance?” Ian whispered. “Why didn’t you leave me the way I was, dammit? Now touching like this will never be enough. I want all of you, Jamee. And after I’ve touched you all those ways, I’ll only want you more, God help me.”

  Jamee shivered, hearing the pain in his voice. Hearing the loneliness of a man who had wandered in far lands for too many lonely nights.

  She wouldn’t let him be lonely, not at Christmas.

  Easing her fingers around his neck and leaning close, she met him kiss for hungry kiss. Her body molded to his, thigh to thigh.

  Ian pulled free, his breath labored. “Have I frightened you yet?” he growled.

  “No way.” It was true. Instead of fear, Ian had given her passion. At the same time, Jamee sensed his own control was weakening. She smiled gently and touched his face, yearning to see him smile.

  Passion would be her gift back to him, and joy would be their shared reward. Jamee sensed the hand of fate just as she had before Maire MacKinnon’s portrait.

  His hands relaxed as he captured a lock of her hair. “You’ve taken down your braid,” he whispered, pulling the sun-warmed strands to his lips. “I didn’t think you could be more beautiful, but you are.”

  Then Ian took a step back and shoved his hands into his pockets. “We’d better go. Kara and Duncan will send out a search party after that young photographer tells them how I nearly killed him.”

  Jamee brought her arms around his neck, feeling the sudden tension that gripped his muscles. “I’m not running, Ian. Not from the danger. Not from you.”

  “Maybe you should,” he said grimly. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

  Jamee rested her forehead against his chest. “I’m getting a man of honor. A man I want to share my life with, in hard times, as well as good. I can’t lie about this, Ian. I won’t close myself off to any part of you. Consider it my personal Christmas gift.”

  A shudder ran through him. “Jamee, you don’t understand. There are reasons why—”

  She raised one finger to his mouth. “No, Ian. I don’t want to hear why loving you is impossible or unsafe or illogical. We Nights have never been very good at conditions or negatives. Especially when it concerns the heart,” she said with a crooked smile. “Besides, Christmas is a time to believe, not to deliberate.”

  “You could deliberate with Einstein and rip him to shreds,” Ian said hoarsely. “If you were any sharper, you’d terrify me.” He cupped her cheeks, his eyes bleak. “I don’t want to lose you, Jamee.”

  “I’ll be around, McCall. In fact, I intend to stick to you like one of my brother William’s alien droids attacking the mother ship. You’ll like William, by the way.”

  Ian’s hands tightened. “I already do. We met three weeks ago.”

  Jamee frowned. “You did? I see, he came with Adam to talk you into taking this job. You never had a chance.”

  “They were very persuasive, I’ll admit. But it wasn’t anything they said or did that convinced me.”

  “No?”

  “It was the sound of your voice when you called from Bali.”

  “You were there, listening?”

  “Every word. How did the boar taste, by the way?”

  She chuckled. “Don’t ask.”

  “It was your laughter. It lit the room,” Ian said gravely. “After hearing you, I couldn’t turn away. I think maybe I fell in love with you then.”

  Her eyes widened. “But—”

  Ian made a curt sound and ran a hand through his hair. “Don’t push me, Jamee. No more questions. Not now.” His gaze moved over the orchard, then uphill to the house. “I’m a fool to keep you out here. The only good thing is that everyone will know I’ve been out here kissing you senseless. Anyone watching will realize that they’ll have to get through me to get to you.”

  Jamee gave a crooked smile. “I thought I was kissing you senseless, McCall.”

  He didn’t return her smile. “Let’s call it a draw.”

  IAN WALKED her back to the house, aware of several sidelong looks. No doubt Rob’s story had already begun to circulate.

  Ian didn’t care. He was supposed to be a man besotted, head over heels in love. The performance would be amazingly easy.

  At the hall stairs he caught Jamee’s hand and pulled her to a halt. “Wait.”

  “Why are we stopping here?”

  “I didn’t finish before.” Ian slid a hand beneath her chin and raised her head. “Look.” A sprig of mistletoe hung from a braid of holly and dried lavender.

  “You Scotsmen seem to be up on all the legends.”

  “Oh, we observe all the ones that count.” Ian drew her closer.

  “Ian, I—” Jamee felt her pulse quicken. She tried to think straight, struggling to use some of her God-given logic, but it always seemed to desert her when she was around Ian. “Is this another part of your masquerade?” she murmured.

  His hands tightened over her waist. “Tell me if this feels like a masquerade.”

  The kiss was slow and searching. Tiny lights on the Christmas tree winked off and on, casting a glow over their faces. Jamee inhaled the tang of pine needles and the citrus scent of Ian’s skin. Just as always, she lost all sense of the outside world, all sense of reason when she was anchored in his arms.

  Behind them three of the models giggled. Someone cleared his throat. “I’m delighted to see that the mistletoe isn’t going to waste.”

  Jamee stiffened and turned to see Duncan smiling benignly from the staircase, flanked by Kara’s curious models.

  “Just testing it out,” Ian murmured. “It seems quite satisfactory.”

  “I’m delighted you approve,” Duncan said. “Now, if Jamee would like the full tour of Rose Cottage, I’d be happy to oblige. Rob is understandably too frightened to take anyone anywhere after the mishap.”

  “My fault,” Ian murmured. “I’ll talk to him later
.” As he spoke, his hand curved protectively on Jamee’s shoulder.

  “If you’re up to it, lunch will be served in fifteen minutes.”

  ALL THROUGH LUNCHEON Jamee smiled and chatted but she felt the suffocating lack of control overwhelm her. She was too vulnerable, too much on display, and Ian’s unshakable control of his own emotions only made her more irritated.

  Despite Jamee’s discreet tugging, he did not release her hand as the other guests gathered to join them for lunch in a sunny room with green damask walls.

  “You can let go of my hand now,” she whispered. “There’s no need to pretend. No one is watching under the table.”

  “I like holding your hand,” Ian murmured. His eyes darkened as he slid her palm against his thigh, then turned to answer a question of Duncan’s.

  Jamee fumed. How could he be so calm and stoic while she sat in a daze, bewildered by a thousand conflicting emotions?

  It wasn’t fair. Why should Ian McCall show total control when she was turning into mush?

  Beneath the table, her leg brushed against Ian’s. For a moment, their thighs touched. Jamee saw Ian go very still, his jaw clenched.

  Maybe he wasn’t in total control after all.

  “And what do you do, Lord Glenlyle?” the model named Tania asked, her eyes narrowed.

  “I have a castle north of here.”

  “What kind of castle? Is it bigger than Dunraven?”

  “It’s big enough,” Ian said calmly.

  “I’m sure it is.” Tania batted her eyelashes at Ian. “Tell me more,” she purred.

  So he was going to be calm and civilized, was he? Beneath the table, Jamee’s fingers moved to Ian’s thigh.

  Ian didn’t move. His voice didn’t change by a shade as he answered the model’s questions. “Something old and drafty, I’m afraid. We have no Victorian angels hanging from the rafters and no steam trains traveling around the Three Wise Men.”

  “You do have bears,” Duncan interposed.

  “Bears?” The model laughed seductively. “I’ll bet they wear kilts, too. I’d love to see you in a kilt,” she gushed.