"Not until and unless you find proof. I see no reason to tell her, otherwise. Knowing my brother, I seriously doubt he left anything in writing since he went to so much trouble to create such an elaborate deception."
"So you're saying I won't find anything. I tend to agree with you. If there was anything to be found, I believe I would have discovered it by now." He sighed. "I need to return to New York and tell my client what I found."
"Which is the truth. By the way, how old are you, Mr. Dumas?"
"Thirty-three."
"Ah."
He looked at her suspiciously. "What does that mean?"
She chuckled. "I'm not being inscrutable, Mr. Dumas. Just curious."
Greg leaned back in the chair and stared at the fire. He'd never been one to admit defeat, but he knew the trail he'd been following had dried up. There was no sense in fooling himself. It was time for him to return to his regular routine and the responsibilities that awaited him at home.
He hoped Fiona's aunt was wrong. He didn't want Fiona emotionally attached to him. Despite his strong physical attraction to her, he knew he would end up hurting her.
Jill was the first person he'd loved and he learned that love made him vulnerable. He found it easier to revert to the lessons he'd learned as a child—if he didn't get close to anyone, he couldn't get hurt.
Fiona deserved much more than he could offer her.
* * *
Chapter 9
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Fiona entered the dining room the following morning and found Greg eating a hearty breakfast. He sat back in his chair when he saw her and smiled. "Good morning," he said.
Becky came in from the kitchen. "I have your breakfast warming, Miss Fiona," she said. "Miss Minnie isn't coming down this morning. She asked me to bring her breakfast on a tray."
"Is she ill?" Fiona asked, concerned.
"No, ma'am. She's just tired."
"I'm afraid that's my fault," Greg said quietly when Becky returned to the kitchen for Fiona's breakfast. "We sat and talked for a long while last night. I shouldn't have kept her up so late."
Fiona slipped into the chair she'd occupied for dinner and stared at Greg. He looked rested and at ease. "The late hours seemed to have agreed with you," she finally said.
"Not so much the late hours, but the realization that I've gone as far as I can on this case and it's time to admit defeat. There's a certain amount of relief in admitting it to myself." He smiled ruefully. "That and a couple of beers I had at a local pub. Helped me to relax."
"I wasn't sure that you'd come back, but there was never a doubt in Aunt Minnie's mind."
"She's quite a woman, your aunt. I'm impressed with her."
"You are? After what she said to you?"
"Actually, she was incensed on your behalf. She didn't know me, so she was suspicious of my motives. By the time I finished the second beer I realized that her reaction was understandable given the circumstances. I shouldn't have been so quick to take offense, but I'll admit I was pretty steamed when I left last night."
Becky set Fiona's plate in front of her as well, as a porcelain teapot, refilled Greg's cup with more coffee and left the room.
"I take it she wasn't able to help you, if you're giving up your search."
Fiona poured herself some tea.
"She'd never heard of Moira and Douglas, which leads me to conclude they weren't from this area. I had begun to suspect that. Although she was intrigued by the thought of triplets, she couldn't recall hearing anything about them. So that's where I am. I don't believe that anyone alive has more than the information I already have."
"How sad."
"Yes, it is."
She forced herself to smile. "So you'll be returning to the States."
"Yes. If you don't mind, we'll leave for Glen Cairn after breakfast. I need to call the airlines and book my return flight now and then go back to your place and grab my bag."
"Of course." Fiona couldn't force herself to say anything more. They ate in silence. When she finished, she excused herself and went upstairs to check on her aunt.
She paused in front of Minnie's door and gently tapped.
"Come in, Fiona," Minnie called. "You don't need to stand on ceremony."
Fiona opened the door and walked inside. Minnie was propped up in bed by a plethora of pillows, daintily sipping from a cup.
"Are you feeling all right?" Fiona asked, crossing the room to Minnie's side. She touched her fingers to her aunt's forehead and was relieved to find that she felt cool. At least she had no fever.
In the morning light, Aunt Minnie showed each one of her eighty years. Fine lines feathered across her face. Her eyes were as clear as ever, her gaze sharp. Fiona realized how much she loved her aunt, despite—or perhaps because of—her many eccentricities.
"We're leaving now, Aunt Min. I've enjoyed seeing you again."
"You don't visit enough. You know that as well as I do. I understood your reasons for leaving. I miss Jamie and Meggie, too, but you've had time to deal with their deaths. I think it's time you moved in with me, don't you?"
Fiona sank into the chair beside the bed. "There is something wrong, isn't there? Have you been to the doctor? What did he say? Did he run tests?" Try as she might, Fiona was unable to use her ability to see colors or pick up anything on her aunt. Perhaps it was because she was emotionally involved with her. Then again, her aunt had always been difficult to read, regardless of her physical health.
"Fiona, dear. There is nothing wrong with me other than the fact that I've used this body for a long, long while. I tire more easily these days. Therefore, I rest more. That's sensible, not an illness. I refuse to play the pity card in hope that you will come back to watch over me. I want you to come because this is your home and we're family. There. I did play the pity card, after all. Of course you can see right through it."
Fiona laughed, as Aunt Minnie wanted. "What are your young man's plans this morning, besides taking you home?"
"Aunt Minnie, he is not—"
"Just a figure of speech, dear. There's no reason for you to become hostile."
"He's downstairs booking his return flight to New York. He'll be leaving as soon as possible."
"Too bad. I like him."
"Well, the two of you have certainly formed a mutual admiration society."
Aunt Minnie looked pleased. "That's reassuring, I must say. Please have him come tell me goodbye, would you, dear?"
Fiona wanted to roll her eyes. But she didn't. "Yes, ma'am." She leaned over and kissed her aunt's cheek. "I love you, Aunt Min."
Minnie patted Fiona's face. "I feel the same way about you. You've been such a blessing to all of our lives, dear."
Fiona smiled. "I'm glad." She straightened and stroked Minnie's hair. "I'll send Greg up."
Minnie watched Fiona move across the room with her graceful, gliding step. She had truly been a blessing to each member of the family.
Minnie knew she'd taken a calculated risk telling Greg about the mystery surrounding Fiona's birth. He needed to know. There was the strong possibility that his client was one of Fiona's sisters. If that was true, Fiona should know that she had other family besides an aging, crotchety aunt.
This was going to be an interesting time in Fiona's life. Her one regret was that Jamie and Meggie weren't here to explain things. There was so much she didn't know and it surprised her that her brother hadn't taken her into his confidence. If he had, she might be better able to help today.
Fiona had left the bedroom door open. Greg paused in the doorway and tapped lightly on the doorjamb. "You're looking quite chipper this morning, considering what little sleep you had," he said, walking to the side of the bed without hesitation. He took Minnie's hand between his.
Minnie chuckled. "I can't tell you how relieved I am to hear you say that. The way Fiona acted just now, you'd think I was fading fast, not expected to last through the day."
Greg laughed. "You're a marvel. You know that, don't you
?"
"Well, of course I do," she replied with raised brows. "I presumed you noticed that about me first thing."
"As a matter of fact…" he said, allowing his words to trail off. "Seriously, meeting you has been worth all the wasted days of chasing my tail looking for information."
"Really. So meeting Fiona is incidental, I take it?"
His smile faded. "I worry about her."
"Yes. So do I."
"She's too isolated where she is now," he said quietly.
Minnie nodded. "We were discussing that very thing a few minutes ago." She paused. "What about you?" she asked.
He looked puzzled. "I'm afraid I don't follow."
"Have you ever considered moving to Scotland?"
His laugh was rueful. "No, Miss Minnie, I have never considered the idea. I'm a native New Yorker. Besides, my daughter, Tina, would be devastated if I were to take her away from her grandparents. They've added stability to both our lives."
"Ah. Perhaps you should suggest they visit here. They might be willing to relocate, as well."
Greg found the whole idea absurd. "I take it you're with the local chamber of commerce?"
Minnie nodded, returning to her regal mode, he thought, amused. "You could at least consider my idea."
"Of course." Consider and dismiss, but he didn't need to say that to her. "Thank you for your hospitality, Miss MacDonald. It has certainly been an enlightening visit, all things considered."
"Yes, it has. By the way, were you able to book your flight?"
"Oh. Yes. I'll need to get back to Glasgow tomorrow evening in order to catch the flight first thing the next morning."
"I see. Well, then, you need to be off, I'm sure."
He leaned over and placed a light kiss on Minnie's forehead. "Take care of yourself."
She closed her eyes and smiled. "You may count on it," she said, opening them when he drew away from her. "I intend to be around for a long while."
Greg left the room bemused. He felt as though there had been two levels to the conversation going on back there.
Where had Fiona's aunt come up with the idea that he'd consider moving to Scotland? As soon as he had the thought, he knew the answer. Fiona. She wanted him to move to Scotland because of Fiona.
So she was playing matchmaker, was she? Well, it was too bad that she considered him a mate for her niece. She was in for nothing but disappointment if that was the case.
He had no intention of getting involved with anyone again. He had Tina. That was enough family. George and Helen provided her with grandparents. There was no reason to upset the family dynamics by bringing another person into the mix.
It was at that point in his musings that he realized Fiona was watching him descend the stairs from where she stood near the front door, her bag at her feet.
A golden glow flooded the area from the window on the landing of the stairwell, framing her in light. When he made eye contact with her, she smiled, looking very young and vulnerable, her hair glowing like a nimbus around her.
His chest ached with unnamed emotions.
He paused when he reached her side and picked up his overnight bag, which he'd left beside the door. Without saying anything, he took hers from her and walked toward the door. Fiona opened it and he strode through and down the steps to the car.
She closed the door behind them and followed him.
Once they were on the road again, she said, "You looked grim when you left Aunt Minnie. Did she give you trouble?" Her voice held a hint of surprise.
"No. I've got a lot on my mind right now."
"Oh. Did you book your flight?"
"Yeah. I need to be in Glasgow by tomorrow evening."
When she said nothing more he gave her a quick glance. He enjoyed looking at her profile. Now that he was looking for it, he could see a family resemblance between his client and Fiona, although their eyes and hair were not the same color. The triplets must have been fraternal.
Both women were small in stature with delicate features. Each of them was beautiful but he'd never had the reaction to his client that he had to Fiona.
He groaned and she immediately asked, "What's wrong? Are you in pain?"
"I'm all right. I guess you'll be glad to get me out of your hair and return to your regular life."
"It will be an adjustment, but I'll manage," she replied.
"Yeah, I thought you would."
He would adjust, as well. He tried to convince himself that his strong attraction to her was the result of their having spent so much time together these past several days. Plus he hadn't been with a woman since Jill died. Hadn't wanted to be, as far as that goes. His response to her beauty meant he was a normal, functioning male.
Once he left, he'd quickly recover from whatever fever she stirred in his blood.
They reached Glen Cairn midafternoon. Instead of turning into her lane, Greg continued through the village with Fiona giving him directions until they reached Patrick McKay's farm. As soon as they pulled up, McTavish came bounding toward the car, barking with delight.
They stepped out of the car—Fiona to let Patrick's wife know she was taking McTavish home and Greg to open the back seat car door. McTavish raced around Fiona with enthusiasm, then dashed over to where Greg stood. McTavish greeted him with equal exuberance. By the time Fiona returned to the car, McTavish was in the back seat, looking like royalty ready to greet and wave to his loyal subjects.
Fiona was laughing at McTavish's antics. "You'd think I'd been away for weeks and weeks from the way he's acting."
"It's nice to be greeted with so much energy and yet so much restraint. Any other dog would have been jumping on us, but not McTavish."
Fiona slid into the car and looked at McTavish. "Of course not. You are a well-behaved young man, are you not?"
McTavish whuffled in agreement, causing Greg to smile. "He understands you, doesn't he?"
"Absolutely, unless he becomes selectively deaf. That generally happens when he's chasing a rabbit and I call him to come inside."
"Can't blame him there."
With McTavish as a buffer, the mood lightened considerably by the time they reached Fiona's home. As soon as Greg released McTavish, he took off to check out any new smells that had been left around the property while he was away. Tiger sauntered out from wherever he'd been, stretched, yawned and blinked at them.
"Quite a greeting all the way around," Greg said. He grabbed their bags and followed her in through her front entrance.
The house was chilled. He set his bag inside his room, placed hers at the bottom of the stairs and went into the living room to build a fire. As soon as that was accomplished, Greg went into his room and closed the door.
The combination of lack of sleep the night before and the strong emotions he'd been battling most of the day had taken their toll. He stretched out on the bed and was asleep within minutes.
Fiona went into the kitchen and began preparations for supper. She'd been quiet most of the way home, thinking about what her life would be like once Greg left.
The fact that she'd dreamed about him most of the previous night hadn't helped. In one of her dreams, she had run after him when he'd left, begging him to stay with her, crying when he told he had to go home.
Another dream had him returning to the house late at night, coming up the stairs to her room and lying down beside her. He'd awakened her with his kisses, stirring her to respond and to help him remove his clothes. She had kissed and caressed him, reveling in the opportunity to make love to him. She'd awakened suddenly from that dream, her skin tingling as though he had been touching her in the same way. She would never admit to anyone but herself that she had been disappointed to find it had only been a dream.
She fed her animals, set the table and ladled up the food into serving dishes before she went to find Greg. She hadn't heard a word from him since they'd arrived home.
The living room was empty, although the fire had taken the chill off the room. He'd built
a fire, it seemed. He was a little too good at that particular skill, and she wasn't necessarily referring to the one in the fireplace.
She went to the door of his room and tapped. There was no answer. She opened the door to make certain he wasn't there before she went searching for him outside. When she saw him asleep on the bed she knew she wouldn't need to search any further.
He lay on his stomach, his arms flung out on either side. His feet, still in boots, hung over the edge. He must have been exhausted not to remove them.
"Greg?" she said. "Dinner is ready."
There was no answer.
She walked over to the bed. "Greg."
No response.
Fiona sat on the side of the bed and gently rubbed his back. She could feel the heat of his body through his sweater, pick up the slight scent of his aftershave, which could have been invented especially for him. Without giving the action much thought, she slipped her hand beneath the sweater and T-shirt he wore, luxuriating in the feel of his bare, muscular back, the indentation of his spine and the beginning of a curve where the waist of his jeans blocked her from moving farther.
He shifted, slowly rolling away from her onto his back. He yawned and opened his eyes. "That was nice," he murmured.
"What was?"
"Waking up to a back rub."
"I apologize for being so personal," she said, knowing her face was a fiery red. She forced herself to meet his gaze. "I kept sponging you off while you were sick in an effort to bring down your fever. I suppose I grew used to touching you…" Her voice trailed off.
"Fiona…" His eyes darkened.
"I know. There's nothing between us. There can be nothing between us. It's just that…" Her voice trailed off.
He reached up and brushed the back of his hand across her cheek. "I don't ever want to hurt you," he said. "Or take advantage of you in any way."
Fiona knew that if she let Greg walk out of her life without having experienced his lovemaking, she would regret it for the rest of her life. She wanted no regrets. Not where Greg was concerned.
With a calm deliberation, Fiona stood and briskly peeled off her clothes down to her bra and panties. Greg, startled, sat up and said, "What are you doing?"
MAN IN THE MIST Page 11