Sinfully Supernatural

by Multiple

  * * * *

  Callum stared at the papers unseeingly and cursed his existence. It wasn’t a new experience. Over the course of years since they’d discovered their predicament, he’d cursed them, their grandfather, and just about everyone involved with the living hell their lives had become. But not once had he meant it as much as he did today.

  He didn’t have to be the one in here with her. She had said she would stay away from Angus. He didn’t trust her with everything else, but she had been truthful last night—he knew that without a doubt. Not to mention, a woman who is thinking about another man would never respond to him the way she had.

  Holy God, did she respond. Hesitant at first, she’d soon turned the tables on him. He’d wanted nothing more than to lay her out on the counter and feast on her luscious flesh, taste her sweet essence.

  Damn. He was doing it again. He was going to be barmy by the time she left. He’d almost lost control when he’d handed her the diary. There had been a second or two when he’d thought of pulling her up out of the chair and teasing a smile out of her, then kissing it away. His mind was saying “no,” but his libido was screaming for the relief he was sure that only she might be able to give. It was just that she looked tempting this morning. She was wearing another ill-fitting suit, one that did nothing for her body or her complexion. Her hair was, as usual, a mess, curls piled up on her head in no sort of style. It made no difference. Now that he’d tasted her, how she responded…

  Jesus hell. This was just not going to work. He needed time away from her, even if it was just an hour. Separation was the only thing that would work. He figured that Angus was as good as any, so he called his office and asked him to come over.

  He arrived within moments. After greeting Phoebe, Angus turned his inquisitive gaze to him.

  “Angus. I need to look over the contracts for that land we are buying from Alastair. Since we all agreed that someone needs to be here at all times with the diary, I assumed you wouldn’t mind.”

  Angus glanced quickly at Phoebe who had turned back to her work, seemingly the picture of the diligent worker. Callum knew better, knew her curious mind would not allow for that, but she was smart enough to know to pretend.

  “Sure. I was just working on the new pottery line. I’ll just run back and get my laptop.”

  Callum stopped his cousin. “No. Call your assistant and tell him to bring it to you.”

  Angus nodded, understanding filling his eyes.

  Without another word to either of them, he walked out the door and headed down the hall to his room. It only took a few minutes to lock the door, strip out of his clothes, and step into a full blast of ice cold water. He cursed when water slashed at his flesh, his blood chilling immediately.

  He glanced down at his halfway-there erection and shook his head. He was standing in a fucking cold shower, and he was still partially aroused. What the bloody hell was he going to do?

  * * * *

  In which the five may return, five stones for the weapon of the first Bruce.

  Phoebe sat back and studied the passage she’d just translated and frowned. Five jewels? And just what did the author mean by the five may return? What was the five?

  “Frowning like that could leave more wrinkles than a smile.”

  Angus’s pleasant voice pulled her out of her thoughts. She looked up and smiled. “That’s not a nice thing to say to a woman approaching thirty.”

  He grinned and rose from his chair. “Find something interesting?”

  “Just something odd.” She handed him her notebook.

  His smile faded as he read her translation. “Odd indeed. Five is mentioned twice. Did you find any other references to five?”

  The tone in his voice shifted, intensified ever so slightly. Phoebe was sure most people would have missed it, but she was studying his face, noticing the way he was grinding his teeth.

  “No. That is why it stood out to me. I realize that the first Bruce would be King Robert, but I have no idea if five is just the stones, or if it is something else.”

  “Yes. Is most of the diary like this?”

  She nodded. “I feel like I’m writing a code for something even after I translate it. This one is the first to mention a historical figure.”

  “They’ve mentioned other people?” he asked, his voice sharp, his gaze almost penetrating. Again, it was almost imperceptible, but she sensed it because she was studying him so closely.

  She shook her head. “They mention people, no names. Usually they identify them by sex. As in, a man from Inverness, a woman from the Clan Campbell.”

  “Interesting that the author would mention the Bruce and no one else.” He handed her notes back to her.

  “Yes. But then he is one of the most revered in Scottish history. I’ve not gotten that far into the writings. And I believe there might be more than one author.”

  “Really?”

  “There isn’t anything other than the way the passages are written.” She glanced at her watch and realized it was after five in the evening. She’d lost track of time since Callum had left. Without him as a distraction, she’d been able to concentrate fully on her work. “I’m going to go up to my room and freshen up a bit for dinner, if it’s all right with you.”

  His smile returned. “I’m not the boss, so you don’t have to clear anything through me.”

  She handed him the diary and her notes. Angus flashed her an apologetic look.

  Patting his hand, she said, “Angus, there is no reason to feel guilty. I’ll see you at dinner.”

  As she walked to her room, she started to turn over the phrasing of the passage, trying to decipher exactly why five was so prominently connected with it. It wasn’t a number one, like would normally be associated with the Wiccan or witchery. And the mention of the Bruce, that was equally puzzling. She glanced up as she turned toward the stairs, and her eye caught on the sword she’d noticed the day of her arrival.

  She stopped and stared. The weapon of the first Bruce.

  Excitement seared down her spine, her breath clogging her throat. Her heartbeat doubled. The chances that the Lennons had the very artifact mentioned in the diary were small. But if they did, it could mean they possessed something that could prove to be a connection to the diary and, in turn, prove the validity of it.

  Phoebe ordered herself to calm down as her mind moved through what she knew about the sword. How did Callum describe it? A family heirloom. That didn’t tell her much. It could be something they’d found or were given. Or, knowing Callum Lennon’s love of antiquities, he might have bought it.

  Nothing to get too eager about. This was just the first step in a long journey. But, if she had a physical link to the passage, that would add weight to her argument, and—

  “Dr. Chilton?”

  Phoebe started at the sound of Belvidore’s imposing voice. She turned to face the dour butler and found him less than five feet away from her. The man had the feet of a cat.

  “I was just admiring the sword again. Do you have any idea what the story is behind it?”

  He shook his head, his frown growing fiercer by the moment. He said nothing. His blank expression gave nothing away. Nervous with her previous thoughts and her need to contact McWalton, she just wanted to get away to her room.

  “Yes, well, I’m heading up to my room.”

  He blinked and then nodded.

  She turned on her heel and hurried up the stairs. She didn’t stop until she shut the door behind her. The need to investigate, to read up on the Bruce and what kind of weapons he used, almost overwhelmed her better judgment. But she had to keep her cool, had to act as if it had just been another day at work.

  Glancing at the clock, she realized she had about fifteen minutes until dinner would start. If she didn’t show up, Angus would probably grow suspicious. She’d get through dinner then call McWalton.

  * * * *

  Silence descended the library afte
r Angus related what had happened earlier that day. Callum looked at Logan and Fletcher, who had both sprawled out on the couch, and Anice, who sat at attention in the chair opposite of his. Angus paced around the room. He’d insisted that all five of them meet to discuss it. At first Callum had been reluctant, since he was in desperate need of another cold shower or a date with his fist, but Angus had been determined, and Callum had given up the fight.

  “It specifically mentioned the Bruce?” Callum asked.

  Angus nodded. “Yes, and five was very odd. Phoebe told me she’d seen nothing else to refer to it.”

  “What did it exactly say?” Anice asked.

  “In which the five may return, five stones for the weapon of the first Bruce.”

  Anice looked from Angus to Callum, curiosity and excitement filling her sapphire eyes. “That could mean us.”

  Even though Callum felt the first stirrings of his own anticipation, he ignored it. It was an odd passage, the reference to five…but he had to keep his head level.

  “It could mean us, but we can’t be sure.” And he wondered what Phoebe thought about it. She wasn’t a stupid woman, and she would know for certain that it was of importance. “But it wouldn’t hurt to do a little research on Robert the Bruce.”

  “Grandda always told us that sword in the hall was his,” Logan said.

  The mention of their grandsire soured Callum’s dinner. “He said a lot of things.” Logan opened his mouth but Callum held up his hand. “No. It could be. It is from the right century, but we need to look back through our own history, look it up. You do that tomorrow.”

  Logan nodded.

  “Is there a reason Angus was in the office with her and not you?” Fletcher asked.

  Callum looked at him and his seemingly calm, laidback expression and knew Fletcher was anything but. His cousin was good at picking up on emotions, and there had been enough tension between Callum and Phoebe at dinner for him to detect.

  “No.”

  He knew Fletcher wanted to ask him more, but Logan interrupted. “I think we need to do more than research our family history. There’s more to this than just the family and that sword.”

  “Until Phoebe deciphers more, there isn’t much we can do,” Angus said.

  As the other four started a spirited discussion on what could and could not be done, Callum’s mind slipped back to dinner. There had been tension between Phoebe and him. Sexual, yes, but Callum still felt badly about his lie the night before. He wouldn’t be able to ease the tension between them until he apologized. He truly didn’t want to spend time with her, but at the same time, he ached to be with her. He couldn’t leave her with Angus, as Callum knew his cousin was attracted to her. But without an apology or some sort or resolution, the atmosphere would never be workable. If he didn’t do that, he’d have to leave Angus to watch over her.

  Completely unacceptable.

  “I think—” Anice started, but Callum decided to end the discussion.

  “Everybody think about it tonight. We can discuss it again tomorrow to decide where else we might need to look.” He stood. “I’ve got some papers to look over, so I am off to my room.”

  Before he reached the doorway, Angus asked, “Do you need me to work in your office tomorrow?”

  Callum glanced over his shoulder. “No. I’ll be able to work in my office tomorrow.”

  “But—”

  “No. Thank you.”

  Angus hesitated then nodded, and Callum walked out the door and up the stairs to pay his penance for last night.

  * * * *

  “Yes, this is in direct reference to the Bruce,” Phoebe said. She inwardly sighed, regretting her decision to call McWalton before going to bed. She’d been excited about her discovery. And while she hadn’t told him anything else about the stones and the references to five, she knew mentioning the Bruce would gain any Scotsman’s attention.

  “Anything else?”

  She should be happy with his eagerness, but there was an edge to it, something that made her feel…cold and uneasy. It might be her own worries. She knew this had been the right decision for her, that she wouldn’t have been happy if she had passed up the opportunity. Maybe someday she wouldn’t feel sick to her stomach every time she called McWalton.

  Besides, the man was really starting to bother her. She knew there was something else he was after. It could be as simple as being the one board member who sponsored the winning entry. Still…she sighed. She was spinning worries out of nothing. She was still off kilter from dinner. The tension between them had almost made her scream just to break it. It was enough to make anyone a little crazy.

  “No, nothing else.” She hoped he didn’t detect the worry in her voice. Again, she was being deceitful. She was becoming a regular liar. “It’s late, and I want to get an early start again tomorrow.”

  “Please be sure to call me when you find anything else.”

  “Yes, I will Mr. McWalton.”

  After agreeing twice more, she rang off and collapsed on the bed. She’d already stripped out of her uncomfortable suit and slipped into her soft, comfy pajamas. All she wanted to do was lay back and pass out, but a knock sounded at the door. Her heart thudded to a stop then began racing. Cautiously, she set her mobile on her bedside table and rose to walk to the door. Before opening it, she drew in a deep breath, released it and then turned the knob.

  Her eyes widened when she saw Callum Lennon standing on the other side of the threshold, his lips turned down in a frown, his unpleasant expression raising goose bumps on her flesh.

  Had he heard her conversation with McWalton?

  “Mr. Lennon.” She was happy her voice didn’t waver.

  He acknowledged her with a nod then stepped into her room, forcing her to take a step back. He closed the door behind his back and then crossed his arms.

  “Dr. Chilton, I think we need to have a discussion.”

  Chapter Six

  Callum studied Phoebe. She was staring at him with those big green eyes, and the only thing he could think was that he wanted to touch her. To kiss her, to hear her moan his name.

  He shook his head slightly, trying to dislodge that thought. He had been wondering about it since the night before. No, before that.

  Why the bloody hell had he come up here in the first place? Inwardly, Callum cursed his decision to approach Phoebe in her room. He'd known it was a mistake as soon as the door clicked shut. He should have found some neutral ground, not in her room with the bed within ten feet. But since he'd met the woman, he hadn’t been thinking clearly. This decision was just another one in a long line of mistakes that could land him in hot water.

  Or heaven.

  No. He couldn’t even contemplate that.

  “Mr. Lennon.”

  He saw her mouth moving, but now that he had thought of the way she would sound in bed, he couldn’t think of anything else. Bloody hell, did she have to look so soft and inviting? Instead of one of those horribly boxy suits, the flannel pajamas she wore hugged her curves, the light pink color bringing a glow to her skin. Her hair fell in tangled waves around her shoulders. Her face had been scrubbed clean of any makeup.

  She was frowning at him, concern darkening her eyes. Damn, she was looking at him as if he had lost his mind—and there was a bloody good chance he had—and he was still aroused.

  “Is there something you wanted?” she asked.

  You.

  He had to bite his tongue to keep from saying it. But it didn’t keep his body from imagining it. It wouldn’t take much to maneuver her to the bed, slip her out of her clothes and onto the mattress.

  Judiciously, he shifted his weight, attempting to get the bed out of his line of sight. It didn’t matter. Nothing would feel better than settling between her soft thighs, hearing her soft moans.

  He shook his head to clear the image and the sounds and realized that Phoebe was staring at him expectantly—and with even more concern. Je
sus, the woman was looking at him as if he needed an intervention of some sort.

  He cleared his throat. “I wanted to discuss what happened.”

  Callum watched most of the color drain from Phoebe’s face. Uncrossing his arms, he stepped forward, worried she just might pass out. He understood she might be embarrassed, but this he hadn’t expected. Before he could do anything, she pulled in a deep breath and retreated a step.

  “Is there something you need?” she asked, not making eye contact. It was odd. Since the day he had met her, she’d always been brutally direct, but she seemed to avoid him now. It was no wonder with his behavior the night before, and more than anything in the world he wanted to sooth her pain. He didn’t have the right. Especially not now.

  “I wanted to apologize for last night.”

  With that her head shot up. Her eyes narrowed as she studied him. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

  The chill in her voice could have frozen the devil himself. “I know that I behaved badly, and I wanted you to know that I would never step over that line again.”

  “Is that all?” she asked as she turned away from him. He didn’t like it, the way she spoke, the fact that she seemed to be dismissing him. They both needed distance, but he wanted to be the one who did it—not her.

  “I just wanted you to know that I regret what I did.”

  “Really?”

  Her voice was oddly neutral. With her back to him, he couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

  “Yes. I should have never touched you and imposed on you. I know that you are an employee, and it was completely unprofessional of me.”

  She said nothing, the icy silence weaving tension in the air around him. Usually, he thrived on this atmosphere. It gave him something to use against his adversary. A weapon to twist his opponent’s will. He had the patience to wait the other person out, let them dangle. But this time it was different.