“Not always.” He smoothed his fingertips over her cheek, caressing her softly. A sigh quivered through her. “A selkie will wander the earth for an eternity, looking for his one true mate. According to the legend, Dugald had gazed upon Eleanor time and time again from the sea. He left all he held dear to be with her. It is said that in each firstborn male of his descendants the selkie blood still flows.”
“And the firstborn male is always born with flippers?”
“The firstborn male is doomed to wander the earth ever searching for his true mate.”
“Seducing every woman in his path until he finds her?”
“Incomplete until he finds her, as if he searches for the missing half of his soul.”
“Soul mates.” Such an alluring thought—yet she knew better than to believe he actually embraced such a concept. “I imagine that little piece of nonsense has served you well in the past.”
“Nonsense?” The glow of the flashlight illuminated his look of surprise. “Do you truly have no belief in lovers who are destined to be with one another?”
“If you are asking me if I believe in the concept that our souls keep returning to earth, destined to find one true mate lifetime after lifetime, then I would say no. I believe it is possible to be happy with more than simply one person out of millions.”
“Happy, perhaps. But not in the true sense of the word. Not with a joy that reaches deep into your very soul.”
He looked into her eyes while he spoke, and for the life of her she could not see a trace of deception in those dark eyes. He was very good at this game. She intended to keep that in mind.
She directed her attention to the interior of the building, noting a pair of raised tombs at the far end of the structure. The light from Iain’s flashlight illuminated numerous marble slabs on the walls. “In the bosom of the Sentinel, find the lion who greets each day. If this building is the Sentinel, we need to—” Her words ended in a shriek as something small darted across her foot. She grabbed Iain’s arm and held him like a lifeline in a storm.
“It’s all right,” Iain said, covering her hand with his. “It’s just a wee mouse.”
Heat flooded her cheeks. “It startled me.”
“I noticed.” Iain grinned at her. “Would you like to wait outside while I look about?”
“No. I’m fine. Perfectly fine.” She eased her hand out from beneath his warm grasp. “I just don’t like to be taken unaware like that.”
Iain tilted his head. “I’ll keep that in mind, lass.”
She lifted her chin and tried to appear as poised as possible. “I assure you, I am quite capable of handling all manner of irritating nuisances.’
Iain grimaced. “That one hurt.”
“I suspect you will survive.” Her rejection would prove nothing more than a bump in the road for him. After she was gone, Iain wouldn’t even remember her name. When she left Dunmarin, she intended to walk away in one piece. It would be wonderful if this tomb truly was the Sentinel. The quicker she could find those jewels and sever her connection with Iain Matheson, the better.
Nine hours later they were still no closer to finding the jewels. Ann stood next to Iain at the desk in the library and watched as he pointed out a large drum tower on a copy of plans made to improve Dunmarin in 1873. Since that major improvement, other changes had been made to the castle. Each change was outlined in one of the plans lying upon the desk. Hopefully the plans would give them an idea of where to find the Sentinel.
“You can see, that in the time of Adair, this tower and this wing did not exist.” With the tip of his forefinger, he circled the depiction of the large drum tower that currently stood between two smaller towers in a great expanse that had become the face of the castle presented to the sea. “It was just the two smaller towers overlooking the sea. Nothing in between. I have to believe the Sentinel of the Selkies would overlook the sea.”
“It would make sense.” In the short time she had known him, it had become clear that Iain was a man who loved a challenge. When he put his mind to something, he attacked it with all the precision of a surgeon and the energy of a marathon runner. At the moment, she felt as though she had run a marathon. Aside from meals, she had been running all day. “Has there been much renovation done to the interiors of the towers since the time of Adair?”
“I know some renovation was made.” Iain straightened and rolled back his shoulders. “The history of Dun-marin has been fairly well documented. We can take a look through the drawings that have been collected and see if we can find a clue.”
Ann tried to stifle a yawn and failed. “Where do we begin?”
“We begin by getting a good night’s rest. Tomorrow we can start with exploring the towers.” He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, his fingertip skimming her skin, sending shivers scattering along her nerve endings. “You look exhausted.”
She stepped back from him, but that didn’t ease the pounding of her heart. One touch, and her heart raced as though it had the Kentucky Derby to win. “I am a little tired.”
“We shall get started again tomorrow.”
“All right.” She turned and headed for the door, her vote equally split as to whether or not it was a good thing that Iain intended to continue with the search. On one hand, he could prove to be a wonderful asset. On the other, he distracted her so much she couldn’t think straight. Even as she debated, she realized she was being silly. The attraction would fade, she assured herself. When he realized she was not going to play, he would lose interest in this little game.
“Dr. Fitzpatrick, what do you wear to bed?”
His soft words wrapped around her like a velvet tether, halting her near the entrance to the room. She pivoted and found him standing near the desk, looking at her as though she were his favorite dessert. That look in his eyes did wicked things to her insides. “What did you say?”
“I want to know what you wear to bed. Since I am going to dream about you, I thought I might get your outfit fixed in my mind.”
“My attire at bed is really none of your concern. And I would appreciate it if you—”
“A white cotton nightgown, long and full, the kind that hides everything and entices the imagination.” He sat on the edge of the desk, his long legs stretched out before him, his gaze warm upon her. “The kind that would billow in the breeze, pressing against your body, should we walk along the beach.”
Heat prickled her neck, then etched a scalding path upward into her cheeks, the blush pale compared to the heat blossoming in her lower abdomen. He had managed to describe perfectly the nightgown she intended to wear tonight. “Walk along the beach? I certainly would not wear a nightgown for a walk along the beach.”
“In my dream you would.” Iain smiled, a slow curve of sensual lips that coaxed memory to rise and flutter through her. Although she wanted to forget those few moments he had held her in his arms, the memories remained, etched upon her mind in bright colors. “Sleep well, Professor.”
Ann turned without a word, knowing how easily her voice would betray her. The trembling in her limbs would not allow her voice to remain steady. Although she wanted to run, she forced herself to walk to her room. The man was the most infuriating creature she had ever met.
I am going to dream about you.
How many times had he used that line? She supposed it had served him well in the past. He would soon learn she was made of stronger stuff. She would not give the man another thought.
Come to me.
The words rippled through her mind. Yet there was nothing tangible to be heard, except the rush of the ocean lapping at the beach and the whisper of the wind against her cheeks. Still, Ann obeyed that soft command, following an instinct she could not begin to understand. The breeze caught the full skirt of her nightgown, billowing the white cotton behind her, as she stood at the edge of the water.
Mist brushed the top of the rolling waves, like a filmy veil. A sea lion dove from the rocks just offshore, his sleek body plunging th
rough the mist. She watched as he arced in and out of the rolling waves. Yet it was not the animal who rose from the waves near shore, but a man. Moonlight poured over him, while the water spilled away from his powerful form.
Come to me.
The words rippled through her. Her heart hammered against her ribs while she stood mesmerized by the sight of him, his features revealed by moonlight. She should leave. It wasn’t safe. He wasn’t safe. Yet she could not look away from him. Mist swirled around him, as though anxious to touch him as he moved toward her.
Iain paused before her, tall and powerful, bathed only in moonlight and mist. “I’ve waited a lifetime for you.”
His voice spilled through her, easing the fear coiling beneath the attraction that drew her to this man. When he reached for her, she went to him, her will bending to the need welling within her. At the first touch of his lips upon hers, she was lost. This is what she had wanted all of her life, this man, this moment of absolute freedom.
He peeled away her nightgown, drinking the moonlight from her skin as he exposed her breasts, her belly, her legs. She slid her hands over him, needing to claim him, as he touched and caressed and claimed her for his own. When he laid her down upon the soft white cotton of her nightgown, she welcomed him into her arms. The mist swirled around them, blending one into the other, two halves now whole again.
Ann awoke with a start, her body trembling, her heart pounding, as if she had just…
“No,” she whispered, shifting upon the mattress, trying to ease the tingling sensation in her loins. She had not just made love to Iain on the beach. She was alone in her bed. The pale light of dawn drifted through the windowpanes, illuminating the bedclothes tangled around her legs. She straightened the covers, then lay back against her pillow. She stared at the dark canopy above her head while her pulse calmed and her breathing eased. She pressed her fingertips to her lips. They felt softly swollen, as if they had just been kissed passionately.
Apparently Iain Matheson’s little comment had planted a suggestion in her mind. Strange, she had never had such a vivid dream before. She shook her head. The man was dangerous. Still, she was not about to succumb to his nefarious charm. If Iain Matheson thought she would be an easy conquest, he had a great deal to learn.
6
Eight days later, Ann stood at the large oak worktable that dominated the center of the family kitchen of Dunmarin, trying to concentrate on the task of cutting shortbread into leaf shapes. Unfortunately, even with the cutter she was using, her cookies resembled blobs rather than the elegant shapes Rose had made earlier. Iain kept ambushing her concentration. Yesterday he had left for London on business. She had expected to enjoy his absence. The man had bedeviled her for the past week, teasing her at every turn, provoking her in ways no wie had ever done before. Yet instead of the very sensible feeling of relief that she should be feeling, she couldn’t shake a horrible sense of loss. As much as she wanted to deny it, she missed the rogue. If the sense of loss was this bad after only knowing him a few days, what would it be like when it came time to leave at the end of the summer?
“The trick to making shortbread look perfect is to cut the dough into shapes on chilled baking pans, and then to let them chill again a bit before you put the pan in the oven.” Rose pulled a baking sheet from the oven and placed it on the large oak table. “Mama would be proud.”
“They look wonderful.” Rose had insisted Ann join her this morning in the kitchen. Ann knew it was the help lift her spirits. They still had not made any progress in finding the Matheson jewels.
Rose inspected the pan of shortbread Ann had cut. “That’s a good job, lass. Now we’ll just put this pan back in to cool for a bit. And put the next one into the oven. The first pan should be cool enough now. Have a taste.”
Ann lifted a cookie from the cooling rack beside the freshly baked pan of cookies and took a bite of the delicate shortbread. A rich buttery flavor spilled across her tongue and coaxed a humming sound from her throat. “Delicious.”
Rose smiled proudly. “I have five sisters, and my mother made certain we each knew our way around a kitchen. Each time I make her special shortbread, it takes me back to those days when all of the girls and Mama would be crowded into her kitchen. Baking always has a way of making me feel good inside.”
“Yes. It does.” Ann took a deep breath, savoring the aroma of baking shortbread. “My mom was an accountant before she gave up her career to raise my sisters and me. From the time we were little, she would let us all help in making cookies. Once a week she would gather us in the kitchen for a new recipe. We still get together at Christmas and make cookies together.”
“Family. Now there is the true joy in this world.” Rose placed a mound of dough on a chilled cookie sheet. “I suppose you get a great deal of enjoyment from your work.”
“Yes. I cannot think of anything I would want more than to find the lost city of Edaín.”
Rose studied her a long moment. “Perhaps in time you might find something far more rewarding than an archaeological treasure.”
What could be more rewarding than finding one of the greatest archaeological treasures of all time? Yet deep inside, in a place she seldom peeked, dwelt another longing. Each time Ann looked at her nieces and nephews, she felt a need she had always been frightened to explore. It was not extraordinary. It was simple in comparison to the dream of discovering Edaín. Yet within its simplicity lay a strength she could not ignore. The simple desire to love and be loved, to have children of her own. It certainly could not be compared to her work. Yet since she had come to this place, that one simple dream had haunted her more and more.
“How is it a beautiful lass such as you has not found herself a husband?” Rose asked, as if she could read Ann’s mind.
“I suppose I have just never found the right man.” With a spatula, Ann lifted cookies from the hot baking pan and placed them on the cooling rack while she spoke. “I’m not really very good at dating.”
“Young people of today seem to take longer and longer to find their mate,” Rose said, rolling the dough. “But you’re thinking one day you might like to have a family?”
“I suppose, but I don’t know if it will be possible.”
“And why wouldn’t it be possible?”
“I have always thought there is only one reason to marry, and that is if you meet a man you cannot live without, a man who cannot live without you.” Ann glanced up at the copper pots hanging on a rack above the table. “I know it sounds overly idealistic, but my parents have that kind of relationship. They love each other, and it shows in everything they do. They respect each other. They are kind to each other. They are happiest when they are together. I don’t want to settle for anything less than that. But I’m not sure I will ever find it.”
Rose considered this a moment. “Perhaps it will find you.”
“Perhaps. Speaking of finding things, I am beginning to wonder if we are going to find the jewels,” Ann said, trying to change the subject to something less threatening.
“It’s only been a little more than a week, lass.” Rose patted Ann’s shoulder. “When Iain returns from London, he’ll find the Sentinel. He’s a clever lad, always has been.”
Iain had said he had several meetings he needed to attend. Ann wondered if he was meeting a redhead, a blonde, or a brunette. It shouldn’t matter. The fact that it did matter irritated her to the point of pure frustration. “Does he actually spend a great deal of his time at his office?”
“A fair amount of time.” Rose studied her a moment, her eyes narrowed behind the lenses of her glasses. “You shouldn’t allow the rumors you might have heard about him to make you think he isn’t serious about his work. He is.”
“He just doesn’t seem to be very…” Ann hesitated, searching for the right words. “It is just that I would never have guessed he would take his responsibilities seriously.”
Rose nodded. “Oh, there were those who doubted the wisdom of turning everything over to
him, including my son Nigel. But I never lost faith in Iain. Did you know the lad graduated with highest honors from Cambridge? Degrees in history and business he has. And he graduated from law school, while he was running his film business. Even if you feel the same as Shakespeare about lawyers, it still takes a fine mind to achieve what he did.”
“Yes. It does.” Iain might be a playboy, but apparently he wasn’t the frivolous type. A scholar with a brilliant mind. It didn’t surprise Ann as much as it should.
“Ah, fresh shortbread,” Beatrice Brodie said as she entered the kitchen. “Obviously you knew I was going to visit this morning.”
“Good morning, Beatrice,” Rose said, obviously pleased to see her friend. “Sit. Have some shortbread. I’ll make tea.”
Beatrice took a seat at the table beside Ann and helped herself to a cookie. After complimenting Rose on the shortbread, Beatrice turned her attention to Ann. “You know, my dear, I have been thinking about your search for the jewels, and I have come up with a tremendous idea. I cannot imagine why no one has thought of it before.”
Ann’s breath stilled in her lungs. “You know something about the location of the jewels.”
“Not exactly,” Beatrice said. “But I know how you can find them.”
“How?” Ann asked.
Beatrice smiled, her brown eyes as bright and shiny as polished pennies behind the round lenses of her glasses. “Ask the mad earl himself.”
Ann stared at her. “The mad earl?”
“Aye.” Beatrice lowered her voice. “He wanders the south wing. Many people have seen him. I caught a glimpse of him myself one evening during a party.”
“After having a few glasses of punch,” Rose said, lifting her eyebrows.
“It wasn’t the punch,” Beatrice said. “I shall never forget that night. He might have stepped down from his portrait, he was that clear.”
“Punch has a way of clarifying some things,” Rose said.
“I had a glass, no more,” Beatrice said. “And I swear, it was the mad earl I saw.”
My Scottish Summer Page 21