by C. J. Bahr
He’d sunk pounds into Cleitmuir Manor and it hadn’t turned over the profits he had expected. His and Beth’s future was sketchy. It would be a delicate balancing act of bowing to MacKenzie, yet getting the payout he very much needed. Grant had to show Alex he was no pushover, while treading carefully. MacKenzie wasn’t going to get off so easily.
“Speaking of that godforsaken journal, it’s useless. You think it’s the Holy Grail, but I can’t see how it’s helped us these past months. We’re getting nowhere, just like ol’ Alistair.”
“Have faith, friend. With Laurel’s research skills and the knowledge I’ve already discovered, we’re closer than my namesake ever was. We’ll find it soon. I feel it in my bones.”
“Shite. You’ve been saying that for months now. I want the future you’ve promised.”
Alex laughed. “You’re in a bit of a snit today. We’ll find the prize that will put all treasures to shame and every dream we could possibly have will be ours. We’re in grand shape. We know the hidden chamber is somewhere on the manor’s property. We’ve narrowed it down to just a few acres from all of Scotland. I have no doubt we’ll find it. Laurel Saville is just our ace in the hole.”
“More partners we don’t need.”
“You worry too much. I have the matter well in hand.”
“Ha, no doubt.” Grant rose and picked up his jacket. “You’ll have your fun first, I’ll bet.”
Alex grinned. “I had a bit of a taste last night. And I must say, that I’ve developed an appetite.”
Grant shook his head as he slipped on his coat. “Just don’t let your wee brain overpower your big one.”
“Aye, no worries, mate. When the time comes, the American won’t be a problem.”
Grant walked to the door and paused, just as long as Beth and himself were safe that was all that mattered. He didn’t trust MacKenzie to keep his word in the end, but then, he knew where Alex’s skeletons were. “I’m counting on it. We’re just running out of places to hide your solutions.” He opened the door and walked out of Sinclair House.
****
Cleitmuir’s renovated stables were dark and shadowy in the rear of the barn, perfect for Simon’s ghostly figure to lurk. An insubstantial shadow among shadows. The smells of hay, leather, and horseflesh surrounded him. It gave him comfort, a little reality in his unreal life. The horses always knew when he was there. Whether it was his solid body passing for human or his invisible spirit as now, they all sensed him and amazingly enough didn’t fear him. As with cats, dogs, and every animal, all greeted him as friend. He came here often in the days allotted him. It was nice to be recognized.
What little peace and solitude this afforded him, however, was shattered when that woman invaded his territory once again. Three times now, first, on the plateau above the cave where he died, next in his own bed, and now in his only sanctuary.
If he still believed in God, he might wonder if this was a message being sent to him. But that was foolhardy. There was no God, and he was cursed.
Simon glared from his corner as he watched her run a loving hand over the gray mare standing in the crossties. Apparently she planned to ignore his advice and go riding. Maybe she’d fall off a cliff again and wouldn’t torment him any further. He could only hope.
He edged his invisible-self closer, pulled by her presence. The mare turned her head, focused her mellow gaze on him and nickered.
“Anxious to go, girl?” The woman gave the horse another pat, before digging in her zippered breech pocket. “You’ll get your wish. I think I’m late.” She pulled out her cell phone and flipped it open. “It’s dead? Impossible. I just charged it last night. Damn, maybe it’s just off.”
Simon watched her fiddle with the phone, but she must not have gotten any results by the anger marring her face.
“It better not need a new battery. It’s less than a year old.” She stared at the useless phone than sighed and slipped it back into her pocket. “Well, Gale my girl, I guess it’s only minimal grooming. I’m pretty sure I’m late and I definitely don’t want to keep Mr. Alex MacKenzie waiting.” She laughed and grabbed a brush, giving only a cursory pass over Gale’s back, knocking off any dirt that might be trapped under the saddle pad. “He promised me I could look over his research. I know I can help him. How cool would it be if I found the lost gold? Step aside, Indiana Jones, there’s a new girl in town!”
Simon’s hands clenched, and his fists turned white when the woman laughed anew as she flung a saddle pad onto the mare’s back.
Alex MacKenzie. Not that wanker. She couldn’t be riding to meet him. And gold? What the hell was she into?
She slipped the bridle on and led the mare from the barn.
Glaring, Simon followed and stopped just inside the opening. He watched her mount and guide the horse onto the path leading to Sinclair House.
He swore under his breath as she picked up a ground-eating trot. The lass was an accident waiting to happen, and now she was involved with MacKenzie. She was trouble, yet Alex was worse. Way worse. The girl had no idea the danger she was riding into. It served her right. He didn’t care about one wayward, difficult, chit. Her destiny was in her own hands. He had his own problems.
Simon stepped back into the barn and started to pace the aisle. So agitated, puffs of dust were disturbed by his immaterial passage as his anger took on physical form. The remaining horses poked their heads out, watching him. He paused, spun around, and manifested into solid shape, expending the energy he had unconsciously gathered around him.
He was so close. All he needed was the key to the chamber. Then he’d be able to protect the MacKay’s legacy and lay down his burden of a cursed half existence. The elusive peace he coveted would be his. Yet, his mind kept going back to the reckless lass and the danger she was in. She shouldn’t matter, he needed to ignore her, but he knew he wouldn’t.
MacKenzie was using her. That’s what all MacKenzies’ did, what his whole family had done. He needed or wanted something from her. The gold was shite, just a flimsy excuse.
He hated the arsehole and his entire family, the murdering, scheming lot. If MacKenzie wanted the lass, Simon was obliged to see that didn’t happen. It was his turn for revenge.
Tomorrow was the opening picnic and ball. It was also the anniversary of his own murder by a MacKenzie. It was time, Simon thought, to do a bit of party crashing.
Chapter Thirteen
“Are you sure you don’t mind the boots?” Laurel looked guiltily around the finely decorated sitting room. The large bay window let in the bright Scottish sunshine, warming the room, and highlighting all the expensive looking antiques and Oriental rug. She didn’t know where to sit, let alone move, in fear of leaving dusty footprints from her battered boots or grime from her well-used riding clothes.
“Och, no. I was the one who suggested you ride over,” Alex smiled warmly. “It was a beautiful ride, wasn’t it? Just as advertised?”
“Yes, lovely. I guess I just didn’t think of the obvious consequences.” She gestured down at her bedraggled self. “Besides, you have a huge crew of workers cleaning and prepping the house for the ball tomorrow. Maybe I should go? I’m not only in the way, but I’m surely making more of a mess for everyone.”
“The decorating for the fancy ball is on the other side of the house. This sitting room is far off from the chaos. And as for yourself…you’ll never be in the way, especially since you’re helping me out. Besides, a little bit of dirt never hurts. That’s what the cleaning crew is for. Have a sit on the couch and you can start flipping through those files on the table while I get us some tea.”
“Well, if you’re sure...”
She was already walking to the couch, drawn to the files, completely forgetting her trepidation. What kind of research had Alex gathered? Was the answer to the missing Jacobite gold here, just waiting for her to solve the puzzle? She sat down and grabbed the first folder and flipped through the pages, deciphering them as shipping ledgers from the Hazar
d. She placed the folder down next to her on the couch.
She scrutinized the pile of records on the coffee table then shot a quick glance out the door Alex had disappeared through. She felt certain he wouldn’t mind her reorganizing things just a bit. She didn’t know how he could find anything in this mess. Once everything was in order, surely a pattern would be revealed. Patterns usually pointed to a trail, missing info that led somewhere. She was great at spotting patterns. Without another thought, Laurel slid off the couch and onto the floor and grabbed the next folder. A brief perusal had her recognizing a family tree. She placed that on the floor to the right and reached for the next file.
As she snatched the folder, she jarred some folded documents, and one fell to the floor. Dropping the file, she collected the fallen paper and curiously opened it to find a terrain map. Laurel quickly identified the North Atlantic and Scotland and realized it was a map of the local area. Her gaze focused on a hastily scrawled circle around Cleitmuir Manor and its property. It looked like there might be underground caves in the area. She folded the map, wondering if Alex had checked out the caves or not. She put the map aside and grabbed another folder, quickly losing herself in the work.
“Should I be concerned about my record-keeping, or just happy you’ve made yourself at home?”
Laurel jumped and banged her knee against the low table at the surprise of Alex standing just a few feet beside her. “Ouch! I’m...sorry...I...you startled me. Here, let me help you.” She leapt to her feet, feeling her face warm.
“It wasn’t a criticism, Lori. I don’t mind. Tea?”
“Um, yes. That would be great.” Looking at the folder stacks, then back to Alex, she asked, “Haven’t you been gone for a while? Or is this some extra special hard to prepare tea?”
He laughed. “No, I forgot about a phone call I had to make,” he gestured to the ornate chair by the fireplace, “take a break and let me play host. I rarely get any company.”
“Ah, sure.” She met his blue eyes, before looking once more at the piles of folders stacked on the couch, floor, and table. Nervous, she found she couldn’t quite make herself sit quiet in a chair, so she wandered over to the fireplace.
Glancing over her shoulder, she watched Alex put the silver tray with tea service down on the table, before her attention returned to the mantel of sturdy polished old oak. There were several famed photos—idly she picked up a picture. It was a lovely outdoor shot, of Alex with an older woman in a garden.
“That’s my mum,” Alex said as he arrived at her side. “She lives in Bristol now, North England. I get down when I can.”
“She looks lovely,” Laurel replaced the photograph on the mantel. Her eyes were drawn to another picture. This one was Alex with what looked to be a twenty-something girl in what had to be the Scottish Highlands. “Your sister?”
Alex shook his head. “Elizabeth. Just a friend.” He snagged her hand and gave it a tug. “Come, the tea’s getting cold.” He led her over to the chairs.
Laurel sat and watched as Alex’s long fingers wrapped around the pot’s handle. He poured from a hand-painted teapot into two china cups sitting next to a bowl of brown and white sugar cubes and a small carafe of cream.
“Cream? Sugar?” His voice, warm and smooth, rolled over her.
“Just black.” She looked over to find him staring at her. He had a look in his eyes, one she hadn’t ever seen before. Derek never had looked at her this way. Possessive? Hungry? She wasn’t sure, only it had a slight edge, and she found she was holding her breath. It wasn’t until he looked away to pick up her cup and hand it to her that she relaxed.
She watched as he poured a bit of cream into his cup, and took a seat in the matching chair on the opposite side of the small table.
“I’m sorry about the files. It’s a habit. It’s my way of looking at things.”
“There’s no need to apologize, Laurel. After all, I did ask for your opinion.”
“I think I just sort of pushed my way in and you graciously conceded,” she offered sheepishly.
“If you hadn’t offered, I’d have certainly asked. Especially after seeing your credentials,” he smiled.
“You looked me up?” She wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or annoyed. She was probably just uncomfortable that she’d have done the same thing if their places were reversed.
“I was curious. I started with the museum’s website, then roved with the Google.” He took a sip of tea. “I saw you’ve helped the police. Several fraud cases, correct?”
“Oh, just a few. In the first, I was an expert witness when someone tried to defraud the Field museum. The detective in charge of the case and I got along well, and when he needed someone to help with facts on a couple of his other cases, he asked me.”
“It sounds exciting.”
“Not really,” she shrugged and drank some tea. “It wasn’t like field work or anything. Mostly I just sat in my basement office, surrounded by books and my computer. Not glamorous at all. Not like you.”
“Me?”
“Please… A treasure hunter? It’s the age-old difference of the field operative versus the deskbound intelligence officer. The spy has all the glamour and excitement.”
Alex barked out a sharp laugh. “I’ll try to keep that in mind next time I’m stuck in a cave, smelly, dirty and lost.” He placed his empty cup on the tray. “Besides, I’m an intelligence geek, too. I’m just too greedy to hire someone else to do the dirty fieldwork. You know, no partners or assistants, you don’t have to share the profits.”
“Well, I’m glad you broke your rules and asked for help. I’ve never been on a treasure hunt. It’ll be fun playing the spy for a change.” She grinned at Alex.
He chuckled. “Looking through papers isn’t very spy worthy, I’m glad you’re so keen. As for partners, I feel if the gains are worth it, I’m more than willing to break rules.”
“Don’t worry about your rules. You’re still safe. Think of me as a silent partner. I’m in it more for the fun and the new experience. I don’t need a cut of the treasure.”
“That’s most generous of you. You don’t even want a small percentage?”
“No, not really. I’m good,” she replied. “Though…”
“Oh here it comes,” Alex goaded.
“It’s just a thought. If these really are Jacobite era coins, maybe you could donate a few to the museum?”
He chuckled. “I suppose I could. It’s the least I could do if we actually find the treasure.” Alex stood and reached for her cup. “More?”
“No, I’m good. Thanks.” She passed over her cup and stood. “I should probably stack things a little better than I have. You’ve amassed a lot of research. Hopefully a clue or two will appear and we’ll find those coins of yours.”
Laurel walked over to the couch and knelt. She gathered a pile and leaned over to place them on the table.
“How’s it organized?” Alex wandered over, watching her. “No, leave the ones on the couch. They can stay there.”
She looked up at him. Gesturing to the couch, “those stacks are historical documents referring to the gold. You know, ledgers, memos, orders, and such. The papers near this end of the table are genealogy and histories of the MacKays. The ones near you, I haven’t a clue. I haven’t gotten to them yet.”
She glanced over to the mantel clock. It was nearing seven. She still couldn’t adjust to the weird Scottish sunlight, she didn’t realize how late it had gotten. Studying the mess of folders surrounding her, she realized there was no way to fix the clutter in time to get back to Cleitmuir before the late dinner Beth planned.
“I’ve got to go and I’ve left things a mess.” She fiddled with a folder, not wanting to meet his eyes.
“Lori, it’s fine. I don’t mind. Besides, it’s a perfect excuse. It looks like you’ll just have to come over another day.”
A hand appeared before her face and she grasped it. He pulled her to her feet, and now was suddenly standing quite close. H
er heart sped up, remembering the last time she had stood so near to him. She met his eyes, and they stood there silently, gazing at each other.
“There is another possibility,” Alex’s voice came soft and low. “You could skip dinner at Cleitmuir, stay, and be early to work in the morning.” His hand released hers and rose up to trail lightly down her cheek, across her throat, until it cupped the back of her neck.
Her pulse raced as she watched him tilt his head down to hers. His lips found hers. With only a slight pressure and the barest teasing tip of his tongue, she found herself opening for him. The kiss deepened, warm and sensual. She pressed against him, thoughtless and breathless once more.
She clutched at his shoulders and Alex’s other hand moved to the small of her back, holding her tightly against his obvious interest. His mouth left hers, and he started trailing kisses down her neck, only to pause at her rapidly pounding pulse and suck hard. Her breath caught and she heard his murmured “Och, Lori.”
His mouth captured hers again, and the gentle hand cradling her neck, pushed deep into her hair, gripping her, trapping her as his mouth fed ever more hungrily. She tilted her head, to snatch some air when her hair snagged.
“Oww.” He ignored her, in fact, held her tighter. “Alex, stop,” she muttered against his mouth. Her pleas fell heedless. A cold chill raced down her spine, squashing her building passion. She moved her hands flat against his chest and shoved. “I said stop!”
Caught by surprise, Alex staggered two steps back, his hand falling from her waist, but his other hand was still caught fast in her hair, pulling her head to an awkward angle.
“Alex! That hurts!”
“Oh, Christ. Lori...” Alex stepped forward to release the pressure on her hair.
“Something’s—”