Danny shook his head as he allowed Ian to push him toward the door. “You’ll go out and get something to eat? I’m calling to check on you tomorrow, I mean it.”
“Yeah, I’ll take care of it. You worry like an old woman. Go.”
With one last fretful look back, Danny shoved his hands deep in the pockets of his raincoat and hurried through the drizzle toward his parked car.
At last. The solitude he craved.
His friend meant well, was only trying to comfort him, but Ian didn’t want comfort. Didn’t deserve it. All he wanted as he stretched out on the dark leather sofa was to escape into the black void of sleep. Only there was he without any thought at all. Thought was his enemy now, because every conscious moment, with every breath he took, his every thought was of Sarah.
He lay back, slowed his breathing and began to drift, reaching for that place where he could be nothing, know nothing, feel nothing.
The harsh jangle of the telephone jerked him back to the hell he’d been working to escape. With his eyes still closed, he briefly considered ignoring it, but the noise would continue and then they—whoever they were—would just call back, starting the whole process over again.
“What,” he snarled into the receiver as he grabbed it.
“Ian?” Henry’s quiet voice faltered for a moment. “Is this a bad time?”
Ian calmed himself. None of this was Henry’s fault. “No, Henry. Sorry. What can I do for you?” He sat forward on the sofa, rolling his neck from side to side to relieve the tension curled there.
“I’m afraid we may have a wee problem. I was no sure who else to speak to.”
“What is it?” The roof again, the plumbing, the electric—none of it really mattered.
“It would appear Sarah’s gone missing.”
That mattered. He sat up straight, his full attention on the conversation.
“What do you mean, gone missing? Gone as in took a walk, lost in the woods—what?”
“Gone as in dinna return last night from her, um, outing with that man.”
How could he possibly feel like he was going to throw up when he hadn’t any food in his stomach?
“What man?”
“That Ramos man. The one who picked her up yesterday to take her sightseeing.”
“Ramos Servans? You let her leave the grounds with Servans?” He was on his feet, pacing as far as the telephone cord would allow. “I dinna understand. She promised she’d no see either of them again,” he murmured, half to himself.
“That’s exactly what I told the General.”
“Dallyn knew she was going?”
“Oh, aye. He said she had her own choices to make.”
Bloody cryptic Fae. “Does he know that she dinna return? That she’s gone missing?”
“Well, no. When we realized she’d no come home, I dinna know for sure what to do. Finally I decided I’d call you, as I’d wanted to when we first learned she was going off with that man. I figured you’d know what was best.” Henry sounded rattled.
“Verra well. You did fine, Henry. Here’s what I want you to do now. First of all, go find the General. Tell him what’s happened. Tell him I want her found. Immediately.” If anything’s happened to her…
“Right. I’ll find him.”
“And I want to talk to him. You have him call me as soon as she’s located.”
“Aye, I’ll try. Anything else?”
“Keep me updated. I’ll be waiting.”
“Right.”
Ian held the phone long after the line had gone dead, as if in some way it connected him to the place he really wanted to be. He reined in his first inclination to drive up there and find her himself. He couldn’t give in to that even though he felt helpless here, so far away from her, unable to do anything to protect her.
But being away from her was the only way he could protect her.
If I’m there, she dies.
Unless Dallyn was right and he’d interpreted the dream incorrectly.
In spite of his earlier lack of imagination, the severity of his hell had suddenly ratcheted up a notch.
* * *
The car pulled to a stop in the driveway, Ramos hopping out almost before the motor died to come round and open her door. No doubt he was anxious to get rid of her.
“Thanks again for the trip. I had a great time.” Sarah smiled at him, expecting a hasty departure to follow.
He pushed his sunglasses to the back of his head, staring at her for a moment before answering. “So did I. What say I pick you up tomorrow and we go see the sights in Edinburgh together?”
“I’m surprised you’d want to.”
“What makes you say that?” Now he looked surprised.
“After the spectacle I made last night, you have to ask?” She could feel her face color with embarrassment. The last thing she’d planned to do was cry all over his shoulder. But she’d done it anyway.
“That?” He made a scoffing noise. “That was nothing. That is, after all, what friends are for. To be there when you need them. So, we on for tomorrow?”
“I’m afraid not. I’m behind in my writing and I’ve taken the last two days off to play.”
“Very well. I’ll give you that. Saturday, then. Everyone takes the weekend off. Even big, famous authors like you, I’d imagine. I’ll come up with something special, I promise.”
She had enjoyed her time with Ramos. And he did make her laugh. Why shouldn’t she see him again?
“Okay, but what about this? We come back early Saturday and I’ll fix dinner here. That way, I can do something for you.”
He paused as if considering her offer, then grinned. “I have a better idea. I’ll come out Friday afternoon. You fix us an early dinner. Then we’ll drive back to the city, spend the night—two rooms, of course”—he waggled his eyebrows up and down causing her to chuckle—“and we’ll have a full Saturday for whatever we want to do.”
“Deal.” She stuck her hand out to shake on the agreement.
He took the hand she offered, using it to pull her to him. Wrapping his other arm behind her, he dipped her over backward for a long kiss.
Another surprise. “What was that for? Just a chap still trying?”
“Not at all. That was entirely for the benefit of the audience.” He shot a quick glance toward the front of the house before covering his eyes with the sunglasses he’d pulled off his head.
But not before she saw the laughter there. Yeah, he likes to play the bad boy.
“See you Friday afternoon, my sweet,” he called loudly as got back in the car.
More loudly than he’d needed to, obviously still playing to the audience.
After waving to the retreating car, she turned to find both Henry and Martha standing at the foot of the stairs. She had to stifle the giggle that threatened to bubble out as she looked at them. They were like matching statues, both with their arms crossed and both with irritated little frowns on their faces.
“Good afternoon,” she called, waving as she started down the path toward the cottage, a quick escape in mind.
“One moment, young lady. Hold it right there.” Henry broke his pose and limped toward her. “Where have you been? We’ve been worried sick about you.”
Martha kept her post by the stairs, but nodded vigorously to show her agreement.
“Why on earth would you be worried about me?”
“We expected you back last night. When you’d no returned this morning, I was beside meself.”
“Near gave him a stroke, you did, missie.” Martha kept her distance, but clearly wanted her say.
“I even had Dallyn out hunting for you.”
Her first instinct was to be irritated, but looking closely, she could see that Henry was, in fact, very upset. His cheeks were a mottled pink and his hands shook. She suddenly felt very guilty. She hadn’t given a second thought to her host’s reaction to her being gone last night.
“Oh, Henry. I am sorry. I didn’t mean to put you out.”
She reached the older man and gave him a hug. She considered it a good sign that he allowed her to do so. “We spent the day at the Glengarry Highland Games. It got dark and we decided it was safer to stay there than try to drive back. I never thought to give you a call. It didn’t occur to me that anyone here would even notice I was gone.”
“Well, we did notice.”
“Yes, we did,” Martha added.
“I should expect in the future you’ll take care no to get caught out like that.” He seemed somewhat mollified.
“Or, if I do, I’ll make sure to call. Okay?”
“Verra well.” He turned and limped back toward the stairs.
“Verra well,” Martha echoed, getting the last word in, before following Henry into the house.
Sarah headed to the cottage. She could use some time to herself. After the events of yesterday, she was emotionally drained.
It had been a while since she’d had to account for her whereabouts to anyone and she found it left her with myriad emotions. She was irritated with herself for not having been a more thoughtful guest. She felt guilty for Henry McCullough’s obvious upset.
But, worst of all, she was disappointed that it was the wrong McCullough who had been worried about her.
Twenty-three
“Hello. May I come in?”
Sarah jumped, startled, turning toward the voice.
“Hello, Dallyn. It looks like you’re already in.”
Her odd neighbor stood in the center of her living room, hands behind his back, looking around, taking in everything. “Your door was open. I took that as my invitation.”
He smiled and she was once again struck by what an extraordinarily handsome man he was.
“What can I do for you?”
“Ah, lovely lady, first it’s what I can do for you.” He pulled a package from behind his back, extending it to her.
“You brought a gift for me?”
“I did.”
She rose from her desk to take the package. “What is it?”
“I have no idea. I’m not a snoop.”
“But you said…” She stopped herself and shook her head. She should know by now not to expect a logical conversation with Dallyn.
The postmark on the package was Edinburgh. R.S. in the upper left-hand corner. Ramos.
“I said I brought it and I did. Not that it was from me. How would I know what the package contains?” He spoke as if to himself. “No need to get your nostrils out of joint.”
“I’m sorry, Dallyn. My misunderstanding.” She set the package on the table and tugged at the brown paper wrapping.
“Yes, I suppose it is. Henry picked it up at the post today. Asked me to drop it by when I came.”
“Well, thank you. Let’s see what it is…oh my.”
The last of the mailing paper pulled away, exposing a square brown box, much like jewelry would come in. But it wasn’t jewelry. Sarah had ogled a box like this before.
“DeLafée,” she breathed.
Oh Lord, edible decadence in a box.
With a feeling nearing reverence she lifted the lid and admired the eight small tapered chocolate cylinders, each hand coated in edible gold leaf.
“Faeries?” Dallyn looked at her quizzically.
“Way better. Chocolate.” She held it close to her face and sniffed. “Ummmm. Swiss chocolate pralines.”
“Faerie chocolate? I never heard of such a thing before.” Dallyn still watched her, a small confused scowl wrinkling his brow.
“Faerie chocolate?” She frowned at him. What was he rambling on about now?
“DeLafée.” He pointed to the wording on the lid. “From the Fée. Faeries.”
Surrounded. Everywhere she turned.
“I give up.” To hell with what he thinks of me. I can’t possibly be any crazier than he is. “Apparently, Dallyn, I’m a descendant of Faeries. And since I’ve been in Scotland, they’ve gone out of their way at every possible turn to make sure I know it.” She took one of the little chocolates in her fingers, then offered the box to her guest. “Want one?”
“How delightful. You could say I descend from them myself, fair lady. Welcome to the family. And, yes, I think I would like to sample this Faerie chocolate of yours.”
She started to giggle, but the chocolate she’d bitten off melted in her mouth, oozing over her taste buds, and she moaned instead.
“I’m going to have to agree with you on that. This is quite delicious.” Dallyn took another tiny bite from the end of his piece. “Unique texture and flavor.”
“The taste of self-indulgence, Dallyn. These are pure decadence. Sit down and close your eyes while you finish it.” She followed her own advice. “I’ll have to give Ramos his due on this one. He sure knows how to pick an impressive gift. A tad ostentatious, maybe, but impressive nevertheless.” She smiled and licked a bit of the chocolate from her fingers.
“Ostentatious?” Dallyn still took tiny bites from his piece.
“He’s a man who likes to make a show of things. Spare no expense.”
“He spared no expense on this gift?”
“No, he didn’t. These are mighty pricey. About ninety-five bucks a box last time I saw them.” At his blank look she tried again. “Roughly forty-five or fifty pounds?” His look didn’t change. “Forget it.” Maybe the man really was one of the elusive Fae. That would certainly explain a lot. “You don’t shop much, do you?”
“I do not.” He was down to the last bite of his chocolate.
“Are you married?” At his look of alarm, she laughed. “Okay. I guess I have my answer to that one.” She held out the box again. “Want another?”
His hand wavered over the candy. “I probably should not.” But he took one anyway, again starting at the tip with a tiny bite.
Sarah took another piece as well. It was so rich she might regret taking a second one, but, you only live once.
“What are you doing here, anyway? Did you just come down to deliver the candy?”
“No, as I said, I was on my way here so Henry asked me to bring the package.”
“So…” She dragged out the word, waiting for him to fill in the blank for her.
He didn’t respond.
“Did you have a reason for coming by or was this intended to be a social visit?”
“Oh.” His eyes popped open like a man who’d forgotten where he was.
No doubt about it, she’d turned him into a certified chocoholic. You’d think he’d never had the stuff before.
“I had a reason.” He took another tiny bite, and his eyes fluttered shut again.
Patience at an end, Sarah leaned forward in her seat and placed a hand on his knee. His eyes fluttered open.
“What reason?”
“Oh. These are wonderful, you know? Yes, the reason. Well”—he smiled sheepishly—“to tell you that you can’t see the young man again who sent these to you.” He took another bite.
“What? You’re here to tell me I can’t see Ramos again? You’re joking. Right?”
She watched him for a moment. When his lack of response indicated he was serious, she felt herself getting angry.
“In the first place, what on earth makes you think you can waltz in here and tell me what to do? I think you need to explain yourself and pretty darn fast.”
Dallyn licked the last of the chocolate from his fingertips, and placed his hand over hers. “I haven’t waltzed in centuries, my dear.”
The smile he favored her with was pure seduction. She felt its impact down to her toes. Perhaps she’d underestimated the man. But, no, as before, there was nothing to fear in his touch. Still, she had an undeniable urge to fan herself.
“And as to why I think I can tell you what to do, that’s simple. It’s because it’s important to Ian that you not see this man again.”
At the mention of his name, Sarah jerked her hand back, using it to capture another chocolate. If Dallyn thought they were going to discuss Ian and what he wanted, she’d need more chocola
te than she had in the entire cottage. A veritable swimming pool full of the stuff.
“What Ian McCullough wants or doesn’t want is of absolutely no consequence to me. And, since it would seem he still talks to you, you can tell him I said so.”
“You did promise him you wouldn’t see either of the Servans men again.”
“Yeah, well, obviously things changed.”
“You’re breaking your promise?”
She snorted her disbelief. “Yes, I am. I happen to believe that, based on his not sticking around, all bets—and promises—are off. Feel free to pass that little tidbit along as well.”
He had the gall to look offended. “How can you say that? After everything he’s done for you?”
“I beg your pardon? Everything he’s done for me? Look, I don’t know what he told you”—she paused, feeling her face color as it occurred to her what kind of a conversation the men could have had about her—“but he didn’t do anything for me.”
“Young woman, Ian McCullough gave you the greatest gift someone can possibly give. Is it too much to ask that you give him something in return? Something as simple as peace of mind, freedom from worry?”
“You aren’t making any sense at all. For the record, Ian gave me nothing. And I owe him nothing.” Sarah popped the remainder of the chocolate piece she held into her mouth and closed the lid of the box. At this rate, all that lovely chocolate would be coming right back up if she weren’t careful.
“Then allow me to explain so it does make sense to you. Ian’s gift of love saved your soul. Aren’t you willing to do the same for him?”
“Gift of…” She sputtered for a moment, unable to form a coherent thought, let alone speak. “Love? That’s not my idea of love. It’s pretty clear-cut. He got what he wanted and he left. No good-bye, no discussion, not even a note. Just gone. That speaks volumes to me about his so-called love.”
“But he did free your soul. He made you whole again, didn’t he?”
“Once again, Dallyn, you’ve lost me. I haven’t the foggiest notion of what you’re talking about.” As usual, he spoke in riddles—about what, she had no idea.
“It’s quite simple. You’re whole again.”
She threw her hands up and flopped back against the sofa, crossing her arms defiantly. This was getting worse and worse.
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