by MacKay, Cali
Cat grabbed hold of the paintings he handed her. “We might need to make a few trips.”
‘A few trips’ was an understatement. By the time they finished, she was covered in dust and in horrible need of a shower, though that’d have to wait. She was desperate to look at the paintings.
Iain started to uncover them. “There was one painting in particular. It was the portrait of a woman—don’t remember the period of it, but I know it was quite old. I’m now wondering if it could be Nessa MacCraigh—or her daughter.”
Cat turned on a few more lights, excited to see what clues might be tucked away between the brushstrokes. “Unless it’s blatantly obvious, I think it’ll be up to you to pick out any clues hidden in the paintings, since you’d be more familiar with them.”
Iain unwrapped the last painting and let out a sigh, his shoulders slumping. “The one I was thinking of—it’s not here. My father might know where it is, though right now he’s out with his friends having a pint and playing cards.”
“We can always go through these and then head back and look through the remaining piles. I’m sure it’s still there.” She could tell he was frustrated. “Look… it takes time to comb through the information and details. It really is like trying to find a needle in a haystack. You just need to be more patient.”
“Let’s just say I’ve ne’er been the patient sort.”
All too anxious to see what might be found, she’d been lingering over his shoulder to look at the paintings as he uncovered them. So when he stood and turned, she found herself face to face with him, their bodies all but brushing together, the air between them suddenly charged with energy. His eyes took her in with an intensity that made her think she knew all too well what it must feel like when a wolf catches sight of its prey.
And then just like that he moved away, leaving her to finally exhale and get control of her racing heart.
He was already heading for the door. “Look over the paintings. I’ll be back in a bit.”
Duncan looked between the two of them, and then, deciding the spot in front of the fire was better than running around a cold castle, plunked his head back down and closed his eyes.
Happy to look for new clues, Cat turned her attention to the items they’d brought back. Most of the paintings were of landscapes, probably of the surrounding area. There were a few portraits, but based on the clothing, they were at least a hundred years past the dates they were interested in. Still, years of research taught her to be thorough. Nothing should be dismissed until it had been looked over carefully.
She started with the landscapes, but found nothing hidden amidst the trees and glens. There were no necklaces dangling from tree branches, or shimmering in the waters of the loch. The portraits were a similar disappointment. Cat hoped Iain was having better luck tracking down the paintings he was interested in. She waited a while longer and then debated going to give him a hand, in case he’d found more paintings than he could carry.
Having made the trip a few times with Iain, she thought she could find her way back to the room where everything was stashed, but she only it made it as far as the hall when she heard a knock at the front door.
She groaned. Answer it or ignore it? Iain was on the other side of the castle and would never hear the knocking, and his father was out for the evening.
The knocking turned to pounding. She approached the door, but there was no peephole, and there were no windows flanking the door to look out of. Shouting could be heard, but damned if she could make out a word through the thick oak and stone walls. How the hell did someone know whether or not to answer the door?
And then she found out.
Iain pulled her to the side, a shotgun in his hand and at the ready as he unlocked the door, turned the latch, and then stepped to the side, aiming at who might come in.
The man walked in, and immediately flinched at the gun pointed at his head. “Bloody hell, Iain. What the hell are ye trying to do to me? I just about had a coronary.”
Iain lowered the shotgun, looking relieved. “Angus. I hadn’t been expecting ye. Sorry.”
Angus still looked at Iain with confusion, but any conversation was interrupted by Duncan launching himself at Angus with a full body wiggle. The dog got a good scratch but it was short lived given the shotgun and confusion.
“Angus, this is Cat; Cat, this is my dearest friend and cousin, Angus—and no, he’s not a MacCraigh, in case ye were wondering.” As if he’d let her ditch him to go find the jewels with a different clan member.
“It’s a pleasure.” Angus shook her hand, but then turned to Iain, his eyes narrowed and his head cocked to the side as if scrutinizing his friend’s every move. “Ye’ve yet to explain why ye’re toting a gun, and ne’er mind the rumors going about town.”
“The rumors?” When Angus glanced in Cat’s direction with those bright blue eyes of his, Iain gave her a sweet smile, and linked his hand with hers, bringing it to his lips. “I’ve no reason to deny them.”
“They’re true?” Angus turned a scrutinizing gaze on the couple before him, a single eyebrow perked and his eyes wide, disbelief in the tone of his voice.
“Bloody hell, man. Don’t go looking at us like that. We met when I was away on business. I didn’t say anything because it’s been a bit of a long distance thing, and I wasn’t sure how we’d manage it. But I’m happy to say, we’ve found a way to make it work.” Iain’s loving eyes took her in, and damn if he wasn’t a good liar. Whether or not they’d fool Angus, however, was another question—especially if she was involved. Lying was not one of her strong suits, and the way Iain was looking at her had her pulse racing and her cheeks flaming hot.
“Well then, it’s an absolute pleasure to meet ye. I didn’t think Iain would ever bring anyone home. He must be… smitten.” Nope. Angus still didn’t look like he believed them, but he was a good enough sport to not question them openly.
“Did ye come by for anything in particular? I hadn’t been expecting ye.” Iain set the safety and put the shotgun down on a nearby table.
“Hadn’t heard from ye, and figured I’d stop by, especially given the talk around town. Didn’t realize ye had company. My apologies for interrupting.”
Iain waved away his concerns. “Ye know ye’re always welcome, and there’s nothing to interrupt. Join us for a whisky?”
“I could do with a drop.” Angus was still watching their every move, making Cat feel as if every breath, every beat of their heart was under scrutiny.
They wandered into the sitting room and Iain went to get them a whisky, while she and Angus grabbed a seat. He was tall—really tall—and definitely a looker, with black unruly locks and piercing blue eyes. Add to that the scruffy casual look, and she was sure he had every woman within a twenty-mile radius swooning.
Too bad he was making her panic.
Trying to distract Angus from his suspicions, and to keep herself from bolting, Cat tried a bit of small talk. “So, did you guys go to school together?”
“Aye, we did. Grew up together, given that our mothers were sisters. And what about the two of ye? Tell me about this whirlwind romance.” The shit eating grin on his face was just more confirmation that he didn’t believe a word they’d said.
“We met after he nearly ran me over while I attempted to fix my flat tire.” Was her voice sounding high? Or was she only sounding panicked in her own head? At least she’d stuck to the truth—for now.
Angus burst out laughing, easing the tension knotting her muscles. “Now that I can believe. He drives like the hounds of hell are chasing him.”
“Hey! I’m right here.” They ignored Iain’s protests.
Feeling a bit more at ease, Cat launched into her story, making up the rest of it as she went along. “At least he was nice enough to drive me home, since the walk to Cambridge would’ve taken me half the day. To repay him for his kindness, I bought him dinner.”
Iain handed them each a drink, and then sat by her side, wrapping an arm around
her shoulder with a smile. “And then I bought us drinks, hoping I’d have enough time to convince her to see me again.”
“Well, I’m happy to hear it then.” Angus tilted his head in Cat’s direction. “I’ll have ye know, he’s not brought anyone home since secondary school. It’ll be good for him to get away from his work and actually enjoy himself a bit.”
She liked Angus, and was now feeling guilty that they were lying to him. Yet they had to, so she steeled herself to continue their charade. Trying to act as natural as possible, she twined her fingers with Iain’s and leaned towards him with a smile she hoped didn’t look stiff, as her gaze lingered on his handsome face while snuggling up to him. “I think it’s been a good thing for both of us.”
“Aye, lass. Ye both look happy.” Angus gave her a sweet smile that reached his eyes this time, letting her breath a small sigh of relief. He then turned to his best friend, the sweet smile gone. “Now are ye going to tell me what’s up with the shotgun? I’ve ne’er seen ye so jumpy before.”
Cat looked at Iain in question, wondering if he’d manage to lie successfully. If it were her, she knew she’d have a hard time convincing anyone who truly knew her. A good thing James had never bothered to pay attention to anyone but himself.
Iain shrugged. “Cat has an ex that followed her up from Cambridge. I just didn’t like the look of him is all. Thought I’d scare him off. The gun wasn’t even loaded.”
Angus looked to Cat. “Is that true?”
“That I have a jerk of an ex, and he showed up in town? Unfortunately, though he’s not dangerous. The gun was a bit of overkill.” Cat tossed Iain a scolding glance, playing things up for Angus.
Though the gun was over the top, the stakes were high and there was a lot to be lost. She hated to admit it for even a second, but people had killed for less—and this was the Highlander’s Hope. She could see why Iain was being overly cautious, even if she still thought they were safe since no one really knew what they were after.
Angus looked at the two of them, and shook his head. “All right. I’ll let it go for now.”
“Will ye stay for a bit of dinner?” Iain sat forward.
Angus stood, finished his drink, and set the glass aside. “No. I should go. But if ye need anything, call me. Promise.” His gaze was direct, locked on Iain’s, his tone serious.
“Aye, I promise.”
Chapter Six
“I found it.” Iain wandered down the hall and grabbed the painting from where he stashed it when he’d heard the pounding at the front door.
Taking it back to the library, he uncovered it. It was like he remembered—the beautiful woman gazing mournfully out the window of the sitting room, the hills stretching out just beyond. She was stunning, her porcelain skin glowing with a blush across high cheekbones, her blue eyes contrasting with her deep brown hair.
Cat leaned in close to take a look, so he shifted a bit to make room her, all too aware of her body brushing against his. “There doesn’t seem to be anything obvious, though I wouldn’t really expect there to be. They wouldn’t want to call attention to anything too obvious.”
“The room she’s in… it’s our sitting room. I recognize the landscape shown in the window, and the detail of the wood paneling is the same.” He looked again, taking in the details.
Her dress was modest, though the details of the gown and the rich burgundy brocade spoke of a certain status. A sheer lace covered her from neck to chest, though there were no other adornments. No necklace flashing like a beacon.
“That painting there.” Cat pointed to it in the portrait, where it hung on the wall behind the woman. “I’ve seen it.”
She moved to where they’d propped the other pieces of art, and started looking through them. “Right here.”
She brought it over and propped it next to the portrait.
“Aye. So?”
“I don’t know, now do I?” She glared at him before turning her attention back to the matter at hand. “The clue could be anything—a single brushstroke, a spark of light, a misplaced vase.”
“Or nothing at all. We could be trying to find something where nothing exists.” He hated to be the realist, but it seemed she was always far too hopeful where the jewels were concerned. Maybe it was the romantic in her. She just couldn’t give up on the lovers, as if finding the Hope would somehow bring their love full circle.
“That’s true. There could be nothing at all, or it could be right in front of us.”
He stood up and stretched. “I’m starving, and if I don’t eat something soon, I’m going to get grumpy.”
“Please, then, don’t let me stop you. ‘Cause you know you’ve been an absolute joy up until now, and I’d hate to be the reason for your souring mood.”
The smile that tugged at her lips and the humor that danced in those green eyes sparked something primal in him. By the gods, she made it so he couldn’t think rationally. “Come. Ye need to eat.”
“Do I?” She crossed her arms and cocked her head. “You’re so incredibly bossy.”
“Bossy, aye? Perhaps, but I’d rather be bossy than stubborn.”
She shrugged and tilted her head, her brow perking in a dare. “I’m only stubborn when I’m right.”
He had to laugh. “Then ye must think yerself right an awful lot, since ye’re the most stubborn lass I’ve e’er met.”
“I am not.” She scowled.
“Ye’re right. Ye’re not.” He threw his hands up in surrender.
She pursed her lips together with eyes narrowed, as if trying to figure out whether or not she should be angry with him. He just had to laugh.
“Come. My da will tan my hide if he finds out I let ye starve.” With a hand on her back, Iain gently got her moving and steered her towards the door, not surprised when Duncan trotted past them in the hopes of a stray morsel, his ESP for all things food-related kicking into overdrive.
He showed her through to the kitchen, flicking on the lights in the large room. He’d renovated the space just a few years back when the economy was good and his investments were bringing in a nice return. They were still doing relatively well, but to avoid taking a hit with the tumbling economy, he’d tied up most of his funds, leaving him unable to sort out the current troubles his brother had caused.
Iain went to the large stainless fridge and opened the door, poking around to see what he could whip up. “Please tell me ye’re not a vegetarian.”
“I used to be.”
“Why am I not surprised? Good thing ye came to yer senses.” He flicked a glance over his shoulder, while pulling out some spicy Spanish sausage, an onion and pepper, a couple of potatoes, a chunk of cheese and a dozen eggs.
“I’m going to ignore that.” She gave him a hand with the ingredients he was carrying. “Can I help you cook?”
“Depends. Can ye cut the sausage and pepper without chopping off a finger?” His brow perked in question as he got out a couple of knives and cutting boards. “Cause if ye end up needing stitches, we’ll have to get Angus back here to sew ye up.”
She took a board, a knife and the sausage, and started slicing it. “Is Angus a doctor then?”
“Closest doctor’s an hour away. Angus is our local vet.” He eyed her knife skills and guessed she’d done a fair amount of cooking. He grabbed a pan and put it on the burner, tossing a bit of oil in to heat up while he chopped the potatoes.
“The local vet, huh? I guess he’d do in a pinch.” She smiled at him. “He was awfully nice, but I don’t think he bought the whole couple thing.”
“No, he didn’t, though he won’t say anything. He knows well enough that if I’m keeping something from him, I’ve got my reasons and I’ll tell him when I’m ready.” He tossed the thin slices of potatoes into the oil and then started on the onion. “Tell me more about James and what happened between the two of ye. I need to know if he believed us, or if he’s going to be snooping around and causing trouble.”
She shrugged, her knife cuts now c
oming down with far more intensity. “Even if he believed we’re a couple, it won’t make a difference to him if he thinks I may be looking for something. As for what happened between us, that’s none of your business.”
He bit down on the words that wanted to erupt forth, and tossed the onions into the oil, giving it all a quick stir. He took a deep breath and tried to keep the heat from his voice, annoyed that she was still keeping things from him. “It is my business as long as we’re working together to find the jewels. Now start talking.”
“No.” Chop. Chop. Chop.
“Cat.” He ignored the thrum of frustration winding itself through the very fiber of his being.
“Iain.” More chopping.
The sausage was now in bits. He covered her knife hand with his so she’d stop hacking at the pieces, and then scooped up the meat and set it aside. “You need to tell me, Cat. I’m serious.”
“And I’m serious about not telling you. My life—private and professional—is none of your business. He’s not violent, if that’s your concern. What he is, is an ass, and if you want more than that, you’ll have to ask him yourself.” She picked up the knife and started cutting the meat again, all while glaring at him.
He saw it coming, yet he couldn’t get the words out fast enough to stop her. She sliced right into her finger as he watched. Her curses died on her lips as she sucked in air, pain lining her face as she cringed.
“Here. Give me yer hand.” He grabbed a towel, and quickly wrapped it around her finger, applying as much pressure as possible while guiding her into a chair, as he kneeled in front of her.
“Blasted thing hurts. Let me see.”
“Give it another minute.” Ignoring how tight her shoulders looked, he tried not to panic. Why was it the bloody woman insisted on trying to get herself killed whenever in his presence? Good thing it was just her finger and not her wrist or gut. He steeled himself for the worst and got ready to take a look at it. “Ye’re not going to pass out, are ye?”
“No. Are you?” Her eyebrows perked in question.