by MacKay, Cali
“Och, aye. If ye say so.”
The blank look on her face made Iain want to curse and had his back going up. “I barely know her.”
“Do ye now?” Her raised eyebrows and questioning glare made him feel like he was seven again after being caught fibbing about stealing a cake before tea. “Ye can try lying to me and to yerself, but I don’t need yer words to tell me the truth.”
Desperately needing to change the subject, he pulled out his wallet and grabbed his assistant’s business card. “Ye haven’t been away in ages. I want ye to go pay yer sister a visit for a few weeks—on me. Call Grant. He’ll set ye up with a flight and spending money.”
She was already shaking her head no. “She’s all the way in Spain. It’s too expensive, Iain.”
“It’s not too expensive, considering all ye do for us. I insist.” The last thing he needed was for her to get stuck in the cross-fire with all that was happening, and with strangers wandering about hitting people over the head, he couldn’t take the risk. He grabbed the tray of tea and biscuits. “And I insist ye start yer holiday now.”
After he finally managed to hush her protests and get her out the door, he headed to see Cat, even though his enthusiasm was now dampened, Mrs. Gordon’s words still haunting him. It was nonsense to think he’d fallen in love with Cat.
He’d only known the girl a week or two, and for half that time they’d driven each other to drink. Certainly, he liked her—a lot—but he wasn’t the sort to fall in love, even if he was enjoying himself. His life was too complicated and busy. He’d already put his work on hold to deal with his brother’s mess and to help Cat, but before long, he’d need to get back. Business deals didn’t close themselves, and he had a company to run.
“Here ye are. Tea with and a side of ibuprofen.” He settled the tray on the side table and managed a smile, while attempting to push Mrs. Gordon’s words from his mind.
Yet he was fooling no one.
“What’s wrong?” She took his hand in his, her eyes searching his face.
“Just worried about ye. How’s yer head?” He brushed a dark curl from her face, wanting to kiss her, but knowing he’d only second guess himself now.
“Iain… what’s going on?”
He got up and paced, needing to burn off some energy and frustration. “It’s nothing. I just want to find the necklace so this can all be over with and we can get back to our lives. I know ye’re trying yer best to find it, but it’s gotten dangerous. And I’ve got work I need to get back to.”
“Well, I’m sorry that I’m keeping you from it. I hadn’t realized.” She looked at him, confused and a bit hurt, which only made him feel worse about how he was acting.
Though he certainly wasn’t in love with her, it didn’t mean he had to be an arse. He sat by her side with a weary sigh, still unsure of what exactly they were doing. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I’m just not good with this sort of thing, and frankly, I don’t want ye getting the wrong idea.”
“And what idea would that be, Iain?” Gone was the worry, now replaced by annoyance, since it was clear what he’d been referring to. “I think you’re reading too much into what happened last night. But if you can’t handle it, then that’s fine. I’m more than happy to keep our relationship purely professional.”
“Ye think I can’t handle it, aye? And what about you?” His temper was up, fueled by uncertainty and pride.
“What about me? I thought we could have a bit of fun. Isn’t that what you’re normally looking for with all those women you date? My career and studies are my first priority, Iain, so don’t go thinking I need a ring and a wedding dress just ‘cause we had a quick romp.”
“I didn’t think it that quick.” His lips quirked in a smile, his anger with her and their situation put on hold in the face of her dismissing him.
“No. I’ll give you that. You took your time and were not only thorough, but rather accomplished.” She bit her lip, her eyes locked on his—and then as if a switch had flipped, she dismissed him once more with a shrug. “Pity you can’t handle it without getting all worked up over what it does or doesn’t mean. And here I was thinking it’d be fun to have another go.”
“Ye think I can’t handle it?” He pulled her close, nuzzling her and nipping at her lips, needing to prove her wrong.
She put a finger on his chest and pushed him away, a smug look on her face. “I believe that’s exactly what I said. Admittedly, I find it a bit odd. If the tabloids are to be believed, you’ve never gotten even remotely attached to the women you’ve been with in the past. Or were you not interested because they did want more from you?”
“So now ye think ye know me?” He wanted to tell her she was wrong, and yet she wasn’t far from the truth, even if she had the wrong end of the stick. “Well, ye don’t. I won’t deny they were looking for more from me, but if ye think those women were remotely interested in me beyond my power and wealth, then ye’re mistaken. Think what ye will of me, Cat, because it doesn’t matter. I just want to find the jewels so we can each be on our merry way.”
With a teasing smile she leaned forward and whispered in his ear. “Are you sure that’s all you want?”
Her breath sent a shiver of need through him, erasing his mind of any coherent thought so his primal instinct was the only thing in control. He found himself kissing her before he could think, and it took all the strength he could muster to stop, even though he still held her close, his cheek pressed against hers. “By the gods, woman, ye’d drive a man to drink.”
She’d yet to pull away, so when she laughed, it tickled his skin. “Would I, now?”
“Aye, ye would.” He took a deep breath, hoping to clear his head of her scent, a mixture that reminded him of the tropics and lazy days on a hot beach—lime and coconut, salt and sun-kissed skin. “And have ye forgotten? Ye’ve got a head injury.”
“I was hoping you’d distract me from it. Pity you’re not interested.”
He just shook his head and laughed at himself for thinking he had any control over the situation. Never before had he been such a fool. The woman left him dizzy, as if she’d blindfolded him, spun him around and then sent him off staggering as he desperately tried to remain upright.
Trying to regain some ground and get his bearings, he decided to change the subject to more neutral territory. “So are ye going to continue being a pain in my arse or do ye want to know what Mrs. Gordon had to say about the local lore?”
She gave him a quick peck on his cheek and then sat back. “Though I’m tempted to keep harassing you, I’m more interested in what you found out.”
“Hmph. I thought ye might be.” He picked up her legs and sat back on the sofa, letting them drape across his lap. “There are rumors of more tunnels. Better yet, they were supposedly used during Culloden, but were sealed off not long after. No one’s really bothered to go looking for them, since there’d be no real reason to.”
“But we know of a reason.” Her eyes were alight, and her body thrummed with an excitement he wanted to make good use of. “I don’t suppose she knew the location of the tunnels.”
“Well, she’d heard stories about this home being used to hide and move weapons and men during the uprising or just after.” He couldn’t help but smile.
“You mean to tell me the tunnels could be hidden right underneath this home?” She leaned forward and grabbed his arm.
“Could be—or close enough near the house.” He sighed, knowing what he had to say next would do absolutely nothing to deter her. “It might also be in a part of the home that’s no longer safe.”
The damned girl was all but vibrating in anticipation. “Did she have any other information? Though that’s a damned good start.”
“Cat, ye do realize ye’ve been accident-prone since ye got here. The last thing I need is for ye to be traipsing through a part of the home that’s ready to collapse. With yer luck, it’d land right on that thick skull of yers.”
“You know it�
�d likely bounce right off.” She laughed but he didn’t find it amusing. “Iain… you do realize you give off mixed signals.”
“I give off mixed signals?” His temper sparked. “Just ‘cause I don’t want to fall in love with ye, doesn’t mean I want to see ye get yer head bashed in—again!”
“So is that the problem, then? You don’t want to fall in love with me?” Her mood had gone from lively to sober, all in the span of a heartbeat.
He dropped his head in his hands, frustrated and struggling to find the right words. “I barely know ye. The last thing I should be doing is falling in love with anyone. And that doesn’t mean ye’re not a lovely, intelligent, and utterly annoying woman. I’m just not looking for that sort of thing.”
“And you think I’m looking for something serious? Just because I agreed to date you in earnest rather than pretend, doesn’t mean I’m looking for a wedding ring.” Her laugh made him want to silence her with a hard kiss. “Listen to me, Iain. I like you. And last night? I thoroughly enjoyed myself. But don’t get yourself in a tizzy thinking I want anything more than a bit of fun. I’ve tried doing the whole serious relationship thing, and it’s not something I’m interested in—at least not when I have so much else going on in my life.”
He shook his head as the pieces fell into place and he started to make sense of it all. “Cat… I’m nothing like James.”
She let out a weary sigh. “No. You’re not. But it doesn’t matter, Iain. You’ve made it clear you’re not interested, and neither am I. So what exactly are we arguing about?”
“I wish I knew, love.”
***
Iain called his assistant and had Grant find a security company that could handle putting in a system for a place as big and difficult to secure as his family home. Luckily, he was also able to get in touch with his father, and though his father was fine, his brother had yet to make it back to Edinburgh—which only made him worry further.
That was his next call, though it went straight to Malcolm’s voice-mail. Iain cursed, unsure about what to do. If James and Malcolm were now working together—and knew about the Hope—then things were even more dire. And who were the men that had attacked Cat? Had James and Malcolm opened their mouths while at the pub and been overheard?
How the bloody hell had they even figured out that he and Cat were looking for the Hope? He supposed it made sense if familiar enough with the local history, and it’s not like he himself had a hard time figuring it out.
Iain debated calling the police to tell them about the attack, but knew there was little to go on, and didn’t want to draw even more attention to what they were doing. If the tabloids started sniffing around, there’d be no chance of keeping it a secret—and tabloids always kept track of police reports. They would just have to be more careful.
He found Cat sitting cross-legged in front of the paintings. And finally—no cursed hair clips. Her long dark hair had been twisted and braided loosely, before cascading down her back in a spill of curls, the mahogany color picking up glints of red in the light. It was as if she’d wandered out of a fairytale, despite wearing a long, oversized sweater that hung off one shoulder to expose a tank below, knit leggings and shearling boots.
It suited her—far more than the buttoned-up look she’d first worn. He had to laugh. Maybe it had been a ploy to throw him off guard. To make him think she was prim and proper rather than the smart and feisty vixen she really was. His lips pursed at the thought, and he knew it was partly because she had no interest in pursuing something more permanent with him—even though he kept telling himself he wasn’t interested in anything of the sort either. He felt like a child, interested in a toy only after being told he couldn’t have it.
Worried she’d see his thoughts and emotions written all over his face, he went to the fireplace and started to layer the wood and kindling. He liked the routine of building a fire, and the smell of it always pulled at something ancient within him, as if his soul was tied to this land and place, to the ways of old. He’d tried to live elsewhere, given that the Scottish highlands weren’t exactly a business Mecca, and ended up miserable.
Feeling more calm and in control now that he had a roaring fire warding off the October chill, he sat down on the floor next to Cat. “How’s yer head?”
“It’s still sore if I touch it, but the ibuprofen’s kicked in so my headache’s gone.”
“I spoke with my father. He promised he spoke not a word about the necklace to anyone.” At least his father was safe. Iain had been worried when he couldn’t get in touch with him.
She tilted her head towards him, her brows drawn in question. “Then how did Malcolm and James know about it?”
“That’s exactly what I want to know. It could be that Malcolm figured it out, if James told him you were here to research a find. Not that it really matters now that they know.” There was something nagging at the corners of his brain, but he couldn’t quite figure it out.
She turned towards him, her legs still curled under her. “Again, it just means we need to find it first. I know your brother has just as much right to it as you do, but if he’s teamed up with James, there’s no way I’m stepping aside.”
Anger bubbled within him, his brother’s mess too big to easily ignore. Everything was on the line. “Trust me when I tell ye, my brother has no claim, and if there’s anyone ye should be worrying about getting the jewels, it’s him. He’d sell his first-born for a few quid and not give it a second thought.”
“Come on then.” She stood up, took his hands, and hauled him to his feet. “Let’s go find us some tunnels.”
Her smile pushed away at the dark cloud that was consuming him. “I’m only going to take ye if ye promise me ye’ll be careful, and ye’ll do as I say. If I tell ye it’s too dangerous and we need to turn back, ye’ll not argue with me, aye?”
The glint in her eye told him he was in trouble. “Och, aye. I promise to do just as ye say and obey yer every word, m’ laird.”
He was surprised to find her mock Scots could pass for the real thing, when he remembered that her father was Scottish. He bit back his laugh and furrowed his brow, trying his best to be stern with her. “I’m going to hold ye to it, Cat.”
A single brow perked up, mischief alight in those green eyes of hers, while she ran her hands up his chest and around his neck to whisper in his ear. “My dear, you make a girl want to misbehave.”
His breath caught at the thought, his heart pounding. “Bloody hell.”
Chapter Thirteen
Cat followed Iain through the ruined part of the home, the stone walls climbing up to an open sky, the roof long gone. Moss and vines clung to the surface, the earth’s attempts to reclaim its own, while still-standing arches and window openings harkened to what once had been.
Though it didn’t come close to rivaling the famous castles and manor homes in size, there was something about the place. The details and beauty of line and form spoke of an elegance still not lost, despite the crumbling and decaying effects of time and the harsh Scottish elements.
Cat thought she could spend an eternity exploring the manor and its grounds, and never find all the secrets that lay hidden away, waiting to be discovered. It was with a pang that she thought of her time here soon coming to an end, but she quickly pushed those thoughts away, knowing it did no good to dwell on the inevitable.
“Did Mrs. Gordon give any indication as to where the tunnels might be?”
“Just beyond these open ruins is a part of the home that’s in better shape, though it’s cut off from the rest of the home because of the roof collapse here. It’s still not in great condition though, and because it still has its roof, it’s even more dangerous than this section here. We’d discussed tearing it down, or building some parts of it back up, though we never came to any final decisions.”
Cat’s foot slipped on the algae-covered stones, but she managed to regain her balance before twisting an ankle or falling on her rear. Iain gave her a quick glance
followed by an eye roll, since he clearly thought her accident prone. Where he’d get such an idea, she hadn’t a clue.
Iain grabbed her hand and held on, supporting her when she needed it. “Once we’re done here, I’d like to go back to the tunnels by the Bleeding Heart. If not today, then tomorrow. I don’t feel like we explored it thoroughly.”
“Isn’t there something we can use to find the caves? Would it be sonar?” She didn’t know much about these things.
“My assistant is looking into what options would be best, and will have them shipped here in the next few days.” He squeezed through an opening in a wall, and then gave her a hand climbing through.
“You didn’t tell him what you needed the stuff for, did you?” That was the last thing they needed. One more person looking for the Hope.
“He’s my assistant, Cat, not my BFF. I don’t have to explain myself to him.”
“He’s not going to find it odd that you’re looking for cave detection equipment?”
“And a metal detector.”
She sighed. “Great.”
His lips quirked into an amused smile. “Cat, it doesn’t matter if he thinks it odd. He’s my assistant. It’s his job to do as I ask without giving it a second thought, and he’s loyal. He’d not be my assistant otherwise.”
“Does everyone always do as you say without questioning you?” She was sure that was the case when it came to his business at any rate.
“Obviously not, love. Ye’ve yet to listen to a single word I’ve said, and my brother’s ne’er paid me any heed.” He shook his head and ran a rough hand down his face. “Ye may think me arrogant, but he wouldn’t be in any of the trouble he’s in if he’d have just listened.”
Cat had to wonder what sort of mess Malcolm had got himself into. It was clear, based on Iain’s reaction, that it was serious. “I know I’ve offered before, but… if you want to talk, I’m here, Iain.”
“I’m afraid it’d only remind me of the mess he’s in and annoy me further.” He brushed a stray curl from her eyes, and then cupped the back of her neck and pulled her in close for a quick kiss. “I do appreciate yer offer, but dinnae fash yerself, love. I’ll manage just fine.”