Callum

by Melissa Schroeder

  Pain splintered her chest, her heart all but breaking and bleeding. Even though she had known it to be true, hearing him say the words was a thousand times worse.

  When she spoke, her voice vibrated with anger. “Just stay the bloody hell away from me.”

  With what little dignity she had left, she swept past him and through the doorway. She was thankful Angus had made himself scarce as she hurried down the hall and up the stairs to her room. The moment she slipped inside, she shut the door and locked it. With a sob, she ran and landed on her bed.

  It had been a long time since she’d had this longing, this need to feel wanted…to be touched. She really couldn’t remember ever feeling it this deeply, this intensely, even for her husband. After her debacle of a marriage, she had no inclination to find a man. She wanted nothing to do with them. Her career was all that had mattered. Men were too much of a bother. If she couldn’t keep Simon happy, how could she keep another man from straying?

  But tonight, oh, God, tonight.

  She rolled over onto her back as fat tears streamed down the sides of her face. She had wanted a man she had no business wanting. No. Wanting was too simple a word for what she was feeling. She yearned for another taste. It shamed her that her libido apparently had no pride, no sense of self-worth.

  Granted, he’d been aroused, but that was just a side effect. He had one thing on his mind, and she had had another. Namely him. Naked and in her bed. The guilt she’d felt over her deception was nothing compared to the humiliation she’d just caused herself. What the bloody hell had she been thinking? She hadn’t been, that was the problem. He’d touched her, and she had lost her head like some kind of school girl with a crush.

  It just wasn’t acceptable. Not now, not ever. She wasn’t just hurt. Through the pain, her anger simmered, burned.

  How dare the bastard mess with her emotions? She had done nothing to cause him to think she would do anything to his cousins.

  Now, determination took hold of her. She would find out just what was in that book and what it had to do with the Lennons. It hurt, lord it hurt, what he did to her, how she’d allowed herself to be swept away by the wanker. But it did make it easier to be deceptive with Callum. When a man used tactics like that, he deserved what he got.

  * * * *

  Callum sucked in a deep breath, the only sound in the empty kitchen, and ordered his body under control. It did little good since he still had a raging hard-on, and his mind was filled with Phoebe. It was understandable. He could still remember the feel of her flesh beneath his fingers. Even worse, he could taste her.

  With a vicious curse, he did an about-face and stormed out of the kitchen. Halfway to his office, he ran into Angus.

  “Doona mess wit’ me, Angus.”

  Without a word, he filed in behind Callum and followed him to his office. He would have loved to slam the door shut right in his cousin’s face, but Callum knew it would be childish—even if it did make him feel better.

  He said nothing as he powered down his computer, didn’t even look in Angus’s direction. He knew Angus was ready to fight, his legendary patience gone.

  “I thought we already had this chat, Callum.”

  “What the bloody hell are you talking about?” Callum asked.

  “Phoebe.”

  “I took care of it. Drop it.”

  “I don’t want to drop it. You promised to leave her alone,” Angus said, his voice rising.

  He glowered at his cousin who glowered right back. Angus was leanly built compared to Callum but could definitely hold his own in a fight. And from the way he’d balled his fists, he looked ready to take on Callum.

  “I’ve left her alone.” And it had taken an immense amount of willpower to do just that. If he had been a lesser man, he’d have taken her in the kitchen, and right now she’d be naked, moaning his name. Just the idea had blood rushing to his groin, and his agitation spiked again. “I did nothing to harm your precious doctor.”

  He needed solitude, to get away, to try to forget exactly how much he wanted her now, tomorrow…Callum banished the thought that rose up. Sleep might not come easily tonight, but being in Angus’s presence wasn’t helping.

  He just needed to escape. “I’m going to bed. What the hell did I do with my bloody mobile? Is it so hard to leave my things where they belong?”

  Angus said nothing more, prompting Callum to glance up at him. The perplexed look on Angus’s face caught him off guard. “What?”

  “Nothing, just…” He scratched his head. “You didn’t upset Phoebe, did you?”

  Upset didn’t cover it. The pain he had heard in her voice, saw flash in her eyes, had cut him to the quick. He didn’t want her to think of him as such a bastard, but it was the only way he saw out. He couldn’t finish what he’d started. The only way to assure she stayed far away from him was to do exactly what he did. Her anger would be her catalyst. Unfortunately, images of slipping between her soft thighs materialized. He itched from the inside out, and he feared that it would take him a good long while to get over that simple kiss. Aggravated, he pushed some papers around on his desk. He was going to break something if he couldn’t find his damned mobile.

  “Callum,” Angus said.

  “What?” Callum asked.

  “Did you upset Phoebe?”

  “I already said no.”

  “What did you say to her?” Angus asked.

  “What was said is between the two of us. It’s no’ any of your business. Where the bloody hell is my mobile?”

  He continued pacing through the room, irritated that he couldn’t find his phone. He swore he’d left it in his drawer. He always left it there when he was working. As he shoved papers around on Phoebe’s desk, Angus cleared his throat.

  Callum looked back over his shoulder and found his cousin holding his phone.

  “Why the hell do you have it?”

  Angus frowned. “I didn’t. It was in the drawer where you always leave it.”

  With a grunt, Callum grabbed it and shoved it in his pocket. “I’m off to bed now.”

  “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  The concern he heard in Angus’s voice shamed him. He’d been close to shagging away what might be their one chance to break the curse, and Angus was worried about him. “I’m fine, just need a good night’s sleep.”

  But even as he said it, he knew sleep would be hard to come by after kissing Phoebe.

  * * * *

  Phoebe looked at herself in the mirror and nodded with approval. She’d done her best to hide her swollen eyes, and she had to admit that she was pleased with the results. She was wearing more makeup than she usually did, but she had her pride. Working with Callum was going to be painful and embarrassing, but she would do it. Mainly she wanted to prove to him—and herself—that she was more.

  Straightening her shoulders, she headed down to the office. She’d skipped breakfast because she’d needed the extra time with her makeup this morning. It was a small price to pay to make Callum think his actions the night before didn’t mean anything. It was a lie, of course, but that didn’t matter. What did matter was that she presented herself as cool and confident.

  Before reaching the office, she walked past the library but didn’t look in. But the murmur of male voices, namely Callum’s, had her pausing.

  “I’ve no idea why Angus thought you should talk to me.”

  There was a sigh and then Logan spoke. “He’s worried about you.”

  “Better he worry about that Glasgow problem.”

  Another sigh. “I understand the attraction, but while I might not agree with Angus on everything, I think he might be right on this. You know it goes against my nature to repress feelings. I would rather tell you to shag her until you can’t see straight.”

  Her? Were they talking about her? It was an odd conversation to have, an even odder conversation to eavesdrop on. Did Logan not understand what went on last night? Had Angus seen the kiss between her and Callum and jum
ped to conclusions?

  Phoebe stepped closer to the wall and slinked toward the doorway.

  Silence stretched. Were they staring each other down, or was Callum ignoring his cousin as she had seen him do with the others?

  When Logan spoke next, his tone was unusually serious. “We need the cure. Without her, we could stay this way forever.”

  Stay what way? She inched closer, but the sound of footsteps down that hall caused her to abandon her spying and hurry down the hall in the direction of the office. Slightly out of breath, she smiled at the assistant in the outer office and slipped through the door. She released a breath, the tension in her neck easing a little as she collapsed in her chair.

  That had been bloody close. Just what the hell was that whole conversation about? Humiliation burned through her as she realized that Angus, and now Logan, knew of her encounter with Callum. Either he’d seen it, or worse, Callum had told Angus. She closed her eyes, hoping that for once in this whole business, she wouldn’t make a complete ass out of herself.

  Opening her eyes, she thought back to the cousins and their conversation. If they were talking about her, which made sense, just what did her research have to do with them? What had Logan meant by “stay this way forever?” She would definitely have to pay better attention to the diary and anything that might have to do with—

  “Dr. Chilton.”

  She jumped at the sound of Callum’s deep voice. Drawing in a deep breath, she lifted her gaze to find Callum staring at her with a perplexed look on his face. Oh, lord he looked delicious—in a completely “uptight businessman” kind of way. But of course, he always did. His suit fit as if made for him. His hair was ruthlessly styled. Sunlight lightened the dour look he was giving her, and in that split second, she remembered how it had felt to have his body pressed against hers. The memory of how he’d tasted swept through her before she could even contemplate stopping it.

  Her blood heated, and her heart tripped. She gained control of herself and brought her mind back to the present. Bugger. She wanted to look confident, as if nothing had happened. Thanks to her eavesdropping, she looked as if he frightened her.

  She forced herself to smile. “Mr. Lennon.”

  He hesitated, pursed his lips then said, “I’m sorry you had to wait. I thought you might be having breakfast.”

  Phoebe widened her smile. She was sure her face would crack any moment. “No problem. I slept in a bit, did a little reading.”

  He studied her then nodded and headed for the walk-in safe. The few minutes he was gone, she pulled herself back together. By the time he returned, she was steady and ready to get to work.

  After settling in to work, she felt the fine hairs on the nape of her neck rise. As casually as possible, Phoebe glanced back over her shoulder. Callum was working at his desk, his concentration focused on the papers. Mentally shrugging, she turned back to her work and wrote off the feeling to her imagination. With determination, she forced her mind off the delectable Mr. Lennon, wanker that he was, and back to the diary.

  * * * *

  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?”