Captive, p.4
Captive, page 4
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jane said curtly. “I’m not the one who’s on the run from a mercenary who wants to behead me. I might not be happy about it, but you’ve explained the problem and now I’ll go along with what you’ve decided is best to protect MacDuff and his people here.” She hesitated. “But if the situation changes, let me know right away. I’ve loved this place since the day I came here years ago to research Cira and the ancestral line of the MacDuff family. MacDuff and his people have always been good to me. I won’t stay one more minute if it means I put anyone here in danger. Will you promise me that?”
“You know I will.”
“And I want you to call me whenever you get a chance and let me know that no one has managed to separate your head from your body. I’ve always kind of liked them as a matched set.”
“Then I’ll be sure to accommodate you. Maybe you have your share of delicate feelings after all. Or it might just be that artistic temperament.” He added softly, “I promise I’ll finish this up as quickly as I can. Everything is going to be fine.”
“I know that.” Jane cleared her throat. “But maybe after you get through with saving the Congo, we might go visit Eve and Joe at the lake cottage for a week or two. I’ll check with Eve, but I don’t believe anyone there has chopped off anyone’s head in a long time. That sounds pretty good to me.”
“Anywhere you want to go. I’ll contact Bezos and see if there are any seats left on the next rocket.”
“No, the lake cottage is fine. In the meantime, take care of yourself. I won’t lose you, Caleb.”
“Lose me? No, you won’t. Not ever. I’ll touch base with you whenever I have news.” He cut the connection.
Chapter
3
Jane sat there for a moment, staring down at her phone.
Lose me? No, you won’t. Not ever.
A few words that meant so much.
Caleb was so confident, so certain that no one could touch him…She should be confident, too. She’d been with him long enough to see how competent he could be. But she’d never be that confident until she was allowed into that dark world in which he moved, and that rarely happened these days. He was being as overprotective as MacDuff where she was concerned. Being with him was always exciting, the discussions fascinating and amusing, the sex fantastic, but lately she’d been aware that it was like being taken to the circus and never allowed near the lion cages.
She was being ridiculous. Lion cages? It’s not as if she wanted to trail after Caleb on one of those damn missions. She just wanted to make certain that she was a part of his life no matter where he was. Just as Eve was a part of Joe’s. It was no coincidence that she’d compared Joe’s career and Caleb’s missions. Eve had her own career but if there was danger she and Joe would always be together, because they were family.
And perhaps that was what Jane was missing most, that sense of ultimate togetherness that could never be replaced by anything less powerful. She had never really had that with Caleb.
Though sex came pretty damn close, she thought wryly. It was what had held them together before she realized that what she felt for Caleb was far beyond anything she’d felt for anyone else. And that realization was still there and so strong that all this fretting and worrying made no sense unless she was going to do something about it. She turned on the bedside light, got to her feet, and moved over to her sketchbook on the desk across the room. She flipped open the book to the last sketch she’d made of Caleb at the fountain in the courtyard before she’d walked him back to the helicopter.
Bold dark eyes, the faint indention in his chin, the way his lips curved with just a suggestion of mockery and sexuality…Totally fascinating and yet with perhaps a hint of stormy vulnerability that he would never admit even to her.
She walked over to the window and stood there with the moonlight playing over the sketch. Her index finger gently traced that faint indentation in his chin. Then she looked out at the sea crashing against the shore beyond the castle towers.
He’d brought her here to this beautiful place to be safe and then gone off to save another wild part of the planet.
But who was going to save him if something went wrong? Her hand clenched on the sketch. Then she moved away and put the sketch back into her case. There was nothing to do tonight, but she had to consider what was in the future.
She turned out the light and got into bed. Go to sleep.
Think about that imaginary little Mist Child she’d sketched, not about Caleb who had never really been a child at all. It hurt too much to remember the pain he’d never talk about. Nor the cynicism that he used as a guardrail. But this couldn’t go on. Except for sex they’d been growing further and further apart during the last six months. Even Caleb had been aware that she’d been on edge before he’d left her here at MacDuff’s Run.
Caleb was right, they were going to have to have that in-depth discussion he’d spoken about…
Or she might lose him.
* * *
The Gallery
MacDuff’s Run
Next Day
“What are you doing in here?” MacDuff asked curiously. “Fergus told me that you’ve been in here with Fiona for most of the morning. I must be more persuasive than I thought.”
Jane turned away from the portrait of Fiona to see him leaning against the doorjamb of the gallery. “You’re always persuasive, MacDuff. Between diplomacy and your economic ventures, we’re all lost in admiration of the great Lord MacDuff.” She made a face. “Not that you’ve managed to talk me into anything. It just occurred to me that I might have some time to spare while I’m here and I could spend it amusing myself by trying to solve your Fiona mystery. It was an intriguing story, and I can’t believe that no one has ever discovered what happened to Fiona. There’s no way that I’m any relation to her, but maybe you’ll stop nagging me if I can find out something that will satisfy your curiosity.”
“It might be a possibility.” He crossed his arms across his chest. “But since you came here, you’ve spent all your time outside on the grounds sketching. Why did you decide to change your routine?”
She shrugged and then said bluntly, “Circumstances, MacDuff. And why did you decide to bring in extra guards to watch over the gallery? I’m tired of this bullshit. It seemed the time to make the move.”
MacDuff tensed and then relaxed. “I gather Caleb called you last night? He said he would and tell you everything.”
“And he did. I wouldn’t have accepted anything else. I was particularly impressed by the tales of the beheadings.” She shivered. “Caleb seems to think my presence here won’t be a threat to your people, but I want you to know that if you have any doubts, I’ll leave at once.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said roughly. “You’re my good friend. I’ve arranged for enough extra guards to make this an armed camp.” He smiled crookedly. “And I’ll enjoy holding it over Caleb’s head that I was the one who could keep you safe. That will be particularly satisfying.”
“I’m sure it will,” Jane said. “But Caleb will probably be too busy to let it bother him. He’ll be going after Bohdan. The mission isn’t quite finished.”
“And you’ll be worried.” MacDuff paused. “I don’t have to tell you that no one is more able to take care of himself than Caleb. He’s…remarkable.”
“No, you don’t have to tell me.” And right now, she couldn’t talk any more about what might wait for Caleb when he returned to that monster Bohdan. “I’ve seen what he can do.” Her gaze went back to the painting of Fiona on the wall. “But evidently I’m not going to be able to do anything about it, any more than I can help Fergus or any of your men here at the Run.” Her voice held a tinge of bitterness. “According to both Caleb and you, I’m not equipped for anything more demanding than sitting here and waiting in case, God forbid, someone has to rescue me. And because I’ve been put in a position where you or your men could be hurt if they’d have to do that, I’ll play your game.”
He gave a low whistle. “You’re very pissed off, and now I’m being thrown in with Caleb. I think I resent that, Jane.”
“Tough. That’s because you’re behaving like Caleb, and you should know better.” She added through set teeth, “We’ve been so close through the years. I first came here to trace Cira, the founder of your family, when she fled here from Herculaneum. I helped you find your family treasure and deliver it to the Bank of Scotland. You were there when Eve and Joe were married. There were so many other times we’ve been there for each other. You know damn well I can take care of myself.”
“Sometimes logic doesn’t enter into it,” MacDuff said. “And I can almost sympathize with Caleb in this moment. Unfortunately, you’ve had an even more colorful history with him than with me. I hope you were equally venomous to him last night. It would only be fair.”
“He knew I wasn’t pleased.”
MacDuff shook his head. “But he’s your lover, and you were afraid that it might be the last time you heard from him.” He sighed. “So you stored it up and attacked me.”
She stared at him in frustration. Damn, he was smart. “I didn’t mean…It wasn’t like that. It was just that neither of you will let me—” She broke off as she saw him smile. “I didn’t realize it. I’m sorry. I’ll find a way to make it up to you.”
“I’m sure you will,” MacDuff said gently. “You always do. As I said, sometimes logic doesn’t enter into it.”
“Well, I can start with Fiona.” She took a step closer to the portrait. “That’s why I’ve decided not to make my presence here any more difficult than I have to for all of you. I’ll stay inside the castle for the most part instead of moving freely around the grounds.”
His brows rose. “No more Mist Child?”
“If I choose, I can finish the painting here inside the castle.” She smiled. “Or I can give the sketch to you for being so kind as to shelter me. But, as I said, I’ll be spending most of my time with your Fiona until I solve her puzzle. It will give me something to do if I need the distraction.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “I’ll want to know more about her. Do you have any family literature about Fiona? If there’s such a mystery, there must have been some kind of historical data to document it.”
“There are a few books about her.” He made a face. “Actually, I have to admit that I haven’t been entirely honest about Fiona. I guess it’s time I cleared up the small discrepancies I might have made regarding her history. Come along to the library and we’ll talk and I’ll give the books to you. You may know more about her than you think. I’m sure I’ve mentioned her now and then. Fiona made her mark on this place. It was one of the reasons I could detect a resemblance between the two of you.” He smiled. “I’ll even give you a cup of tea while I tell you all that I personally know about her. She’s one of my favorite ancestresses, and I’ve been studying her in-depth since I thought I discovered the connection with you.”
“Which didn’t exist,” Jane said firmly.
“We’ll see.” His eyes were twinkling. “But now I’m at last getting to lure you into my parlor.” He waved his hand toward the hall. “Or in this case, my library. That’s true progress after all this time.”
* * *
“Only two books?” Jane gazed down at the two slim volumes on her lap that MacDuff had handed her. “You weren’t exaggerating. I thought she’d get a bit more attention from your august family.”
“August family?” MacDuff repeated. “You have to remember that the MacDuffs had fallen into hard times before Fiona appeared on the scene.” He paused. “Which happened about 1852.”
Jane was frowning. “No, that can’t be correct. The time span wouldn’t be right. I remember when you showed me her portrait that I was impressed by the story you told me about her marrying a MacGuire and having five children. You said two of them moved out of her house in the Lowlands to go to America in 1872.”
“You have an excellent memory.” His eyes were twinkling. “There’s only one problem with it.”
“What’s that?”
“It was a lie.” He chuckled when she opened her lips. “That slight discrepancy I mentioned. I thought I reeled off that false family history with amazing detail.”
“You lied to me? Why would you do that, dammit?”
“I had to have time to search for my family’s treasure. I was poor as a church mouse back then, remember?” He shrugged. “I hadn’t found it yet, and I was worried that the castle grounds would be swamped by fortune hunters. The treasure was mine; you knew that.”
“Of course. I helped you search for it later. But why on earth lie to me about it?”
“I thought that if I could make you believe you had ties to the Run, you’d not only want to keep any fortune hunters from pouncing but might want to stay yourself.” He grimaced. “All you wanted to do, though, was go back to your Eve and Joe and forget all about the Run. I could have let you go.” He added quietly, “But I couldn’t do that, because it wasn’t only the treasure that was mine. I was head of the family, Earl of Cranought, the laird. After I saw the portrait, I knew you were mine, too. Part of my family, my kin, and I had to have time to convince you that you belonged here.” He shook his head and sighed. “But you’re extremely stubborn, Jane. It’s taken years and you’re still fighting it.”
“I’m stubborn, MacDuff? You tried to manipulate me.”
“Nonsense. I never did anything that I thought was against your best interests. I helped you whenever I could, didn’t I? We became good friends.”
She couldn’t deny it. “There was still something shady about you lying to me.”
“It had to be done. It was for the good of MacDuff’s Run.” He added simply, “The good of our family.”
And that was the end-all of every argument as far as MacDuff was concerned, she thought. “Your family, not mine. Back off, MacDuff.”
“Our family,” he repeated. “Stop fighting it.”
“Can’t do it. The fight goes on.” She reached out and affectionately squeezed his arm. “These days you’re rich as Midas and have villages and distant relatives all over the property. You don’t need me around. Give it up, MacDuff.”
“I’ll think about it.” Then he smiled. “Nah, I’m a Scot. It’s not in my genes.”
“You’re impossible. I refuse to discuss it.” She was carefully turning the stiff pages of the diary. “And there’s practically nothing of interest in this journal. No other paintings or portraits like the one in the gallery. Just a few lists and what looks like diagrams.” She turned another page. “And this old faded green ribbon that looks like it’s going to fall apart.”
“I’m surprised it hasn’t.” MacDuff handed her a cup of tea. “I found the journal and diary buried in a trunk in the attic in the house of Fiona’s father, Jamie MacDuff, when I went exploring for the connection with you. They were in pretty sad shape. Yet as soon as I could tell what they were, I set about getting them restored. I wasn’t about to let them be lost.”
She frowned, puzzled. “And what are they?”
“The ribbon belonged to Fiona. She won it during the athletic games that were held here at the Run. It was sort of our version of the Scottish Olympics, and all the young people participated. Jamie MacDuff was a second son who was something of a black sheep. He was a drunkard and a gambler and seldom visited the Run except when he hit up his brother, Colin, for loans. He owned a house on the border and let his daughter run wild in the Highlands. But she was still allowed to participate in the games here and often won prizes. Those notes and diagrams were because she spent time researching the terrain when there was a race to be won. Take a look, they’re in great detail. She evidently liked to win.”
“Don’t we all,” she murmured. She was looking at the sheets again. “Very precise.”
“And the reason there were no portraits or sketches was that Jamie didn’t have any painted of Fiona until she was grown. He’d sowed all his wild oats and blown what money he had left. Then he decided it was time to use Fiona to become more respectable, so he had her portrait painted and began looking for a match for her. Preferably one that would give him the power he’d always envied his brother, Colin, having.” He shrugged. “That’s the portrait in the gallery. It’s an excellent painting.”
“Providing you want to sell a young, vibrant woman to the highest bidder,” Jane said grimly. “It’s no wonder the artist didn’t sign that painting. He must have had a conscience.”
“Or he wasn’t well enough known to have his identity mean anything important to the patron. Maybe Jamie was too poor to be able to afford anyone but a rank beginner,” MacDuff said. “I like your reasoning better. It’s probably not historically accurate, though.”
She looked down at the book again. “But I bet she must have been a good deal happier when she wrote in this book than when she was posing for that portrait.”
“I don’t know…I think she looks very bold and excited in the painting. Kind of…adventurous. Maybe she was looking forward to becoming the head of her own household.”
She made a rude sound. “You said that she took part in all those fantastic Scottish games as a young girl. You showed me how hard she worked at winning them. She even drew the rocks and creeks on the property. I doubt if she’d think that being some rich man’s glorified housekeeper would thrill her.”
“You’re speaking from your own viewpoint.”
Jane looked down at the diary on her lap. “No, I believe I’m speaking from hers. Did her father find that rich match for Fiona?”
MacDuff nodded. “Alastair Graeme. He was a man in his fifties, no title and not considered to be honorable by any means. He hadn’t been a border reiver for years, but he was very, very rich.”
“Reiver?” She was searching her mind for the meaning. Then it came to her. “They were raiders along the Anglo-Scottish border from the thirteenth century to the sixteenth century. So, this Graeme was a thief?”
