The Pearl Brooch

by Logan, Katherine Lowry

  “Gabe never mentioned anything about you, really. Only updates about your health and the circles under your eyes. He thought any other information was too intrusive. I wanted to beat the shit out of him a few times, but this was his gig. I couldn’t interfere.”

  “He’s a good man. I can’t wait to hear his story.”

  “Enough about Gabe. Tell me about the painting.”

  “It took a while to track it down. It’s by Jacques-Louis David, and he painted it while I was in Paris. The owner didn’t want to sell it until I told him the sitter was an ancestor of mine who died during the revolution, and I added a little incentive. I offered him a painting of Jefferson and Lafayette as a bonus. When he looked up the prices of my paintings, he decided he was getting a fantastic deal. So he sold it. I would have paid twice what it was worth.”

  “Now you have the painting you went back to get.”

  She stood in front of the painting, fondly recalling those summer afternoons at the Hôtel de Langeac. “Yes, I have the painting, and so much more.” She stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “So much more.”

  48

  Fraser Castle, Scotland—Pete

  Pete walked out of Fraser Castle zipping up his down parka, shivering.

  He could be in Sydney, where it was eighty degrees. But no. Elliott wanted him in cold Scotland for a week of face-to-face planning sessions. After sending his stallions to New South Wales for more than three decades, Elliott recently decided if his horses were going to stand their Southern Hemisphere seasons near Sydney, he no longer wanted to lease an equine facility. He wanted MacCorp to own it. This was Shane’s project, but every stallion there had a full book, and with so many mares coming in, it was impossible for Shane to leave right now.

  But here he was, freezing his damn balls off. Might as well freeze ’em. They weren’t doing him any good. He couldn’t remember the last time he had sex. It was long before he discovered Sophia was missing. Since then he’d had no desire for anyone else. Even his therapist told him not to rush into a relationship. It would happen when the time was right. On the flight over, he thought he was getting close. If he met someone at a bar or cafe, he’d ask her out. Or maybe one of McBain’s “sisters” had a sister. According to family lore, he used to have one in every city in Scotland.

  Pete’s phone beeped with a text message: Meet me in the barn. E.

  What the hell was Elliott doing out there? He no longer kept riding horses on the property since the kids all wanted to go ATVing. So now the stalls were filled with all-terrain vehicles of varying sizes and speeds.

  Pete stepped inside the barn. “Elliott!”

  “Down here, lad,” Elliott said, his voice echoing off the walls of the stone barn.

  Pete followed the voice toward the far end, where he found a groom hitching two bay Clydesdales to a red sleigh with a bundled-up four year old in the driver’s seat.

  “Hi, Uncle Pete.”

  “Hi, buddy. Where are your parents?”

  “Daddy and I were reading The Wonky Donkey to wee Lawrence—hee haw—but he had to jump on a con-frence call.”

  “Wee Lawrence?” Pete asked.

  “No silly. Daddy did. Wee Lawrence can’t talk, but he wants to eat all…day…long. Daddy and I can’t feed him because…you know…we don’t have”—Blane patted his chest—“the right ’quipment. So now I’m out here helping Grandpa Elliott.”

  Pete laughed at Blane’s fast-talking charm. “I’m sure you’re a big help with wee Lawrence.” Pete glanced at Elliott. “So what’s up?”

  “Well, it’s like this.” Elliott followed behind the sleigh as the groom drove it out of the stall and out the back door. “Meredith and I have been out cross-country skiing every day this week about this time of day.”

  “Me too,” Blane said. “I went skiing yesterday. But I got tired and Grandpa Elliott had to bring me back. You have to have strong legs to ski. Trainer Ted said he’d help me get stronger.”

  Pete chucked Blane under the chin. “You sure you want that kind of punishment? Trainer Ted can be mean.”

  “He’s not really mean, Uncle Pete. He just wants you to follow his plan. If you don’t …well, he yells. That’s why I always do what he tells me.”

  “I’ll have to remember that advice.” He looked at Elliott again. “So, finish your story. It’s colder than hell out here.”

  “Hell’s not cold, Uncle Pete. It’s hot. You know, hotter than hell.”

  “Okay. It’s cold enough to freeze my ass off. How’s that?”

  “Well, that’s cold.” Blane rubbed his butt. “I’ve got ski pants on. My ass isn’t cold.”

  Elliott chuckled. “Lad, I have to remind ye to watch yer language.” Then to Pete he said, “Every time we’ve been out skiing, we’ve seen this woman walking by herself around Loch Lomond—”

  “I didn’t see her,” Blane said.

  “That’s because ye got tired and had to come home,” Elliott said. “Meredith even saw her at a café in town, and she wasn’t wearing a ring.”

  “Okay. So what?”

  “She’s in her late thirties, athletic. A real looker. The kind of lass ye want to take home to yer mom. The warm and natural kind. Ye know what I mean? Meredith thought ye should go meet her and invite her to dinner.”

  “Everybody will be here tonight, Uncle Pete.”

  “If this lass can tolerate a castle full of screaming babies and toddlers, ye might find yerself an interesting woman worth taking out a second time.” Elliott held out the reins. “Give it a go, lad. It might turn out to be something. Might not. But at least ye put yerself out there. And the next time will be easier.”

  Pete looked at the reins and shook his head. “I’m not driving that. I’ll take one of the ATVs.”

  “Nope. It has to be the sleigh. Grandma Mere said you need to make the right…” Blane glanced up as if searching for a word.

  “Impression,” Elliott said. “She’s the marketing and branding expert, so she should know.”

  “If I was marketing or branding something, I’d take her advice,” Pete said.

  Elliott held out the reins. “If ye don’t do this Meredith’s way, I’ll catch hell. And if I catch hell, so will ye. Do us both a favor and take the damn sleigh.”

  Pete looked at the Clydesdales’ docks and tails. “This better be worth it.” He yanked the reins out of Elliott’s hands. “Hop out, Blane, and somebody tell me how the hell you drive this thing.”

  Blane didn’t move. “Go cluck-cluck or kiss-kiss and snap the reins. It’s easy, Uncle Pete. Even I can drive it. To stop, pull back and say whoa.”

  Elliott rested his hand on Pete’s shoulder. “I took Meredith for a ride shortly after I met her. She was putty in my hands. But if ye ever tell her I told ye, ye’re fired.”

  “You can’t fire me. I own part of MacCorp.”

  “I’m Chairman of the Board of MacKlenna Corporation until the day I die. I can make yer life miserable.”

  Pete lifted Blane out of the sleigh, set him down next to Elliott, and climbed in, shifting slightly to find a comfortable position on the hard leather seat. “You already have, old man. I could be in sunny Sydney right now.”

  “Don’t ye dare call me old.”

  Blane shook his finger at Pete. “Don’t call Grandpa Elliott old. He doesn’t like it. But all grandpas and grandmas are old. It goes with the job.”

  Elliott looked down at his grandson and grimaced. “So ye’re calling me old too?”

  Blane clasped Elliott’s hand and smiled up at him. “Just calling it like I see it, Grandpa.”

  Elliott grinned like an idiot.

  The groom returned with a pile of wool blankets and stacked them on the seat next to Pete. Then Elliott handed him a flask. “Take this, but don’t drink it all before ye meet her. A sip or two for courage won’t hurt. But if ye drink too much out in the cold, yer dick won’t work right and ye’ll be pissed as hell.”

  “Sometimes Elliott, your char
m overwhelms me.”

  Elliott barked a laugh. “I’ve thanked the Lord every day since ye and the O’Gradys stormed into my life. Now get yer ass out of here.”

  “Wait.” Blane ran across the barn and grabbed a cowboy hat sitting atop a hay bale. “Here, wear Uncle Matt’s cowboy hat.”

  Pete pulled the well-worn hat down low over his forehead. “I got the jeans, boots, and now the hat.”

  Blane smiled. “This time you’ll bring back the girl.”

  Pete trembled, every muscle tensed, his whole body in the grip of some powerful emotion, a combination of sadness and regret that he’d failed twice. “I didn’t do so good last time, did I?”

  Blane tried to wink at him and instead blinked both eyes. “Everybody needs a second chance. Right, Grandpa?”

  Elliott swooped Blane into his arms and kissed his cherry-colored cheek. “Aye, even an old grandpa.”

  Pete rolled his eyes. “What are these two monsters called?”

  “Highlander Spirit and Winter Jubilee,” Elliott said.

  “Those sound like racehorse names.”

  “Yeah, but that’s a hell of a lot better than Fred and Ginger.”

  Blane patted Highlander Spirit’s withers. “Take Pete to find the girl.”

  Laughing, Pete drove the sleigh away from the castle and into the winter forest, deeply breathing in the chilly, pine-scented air, listening to the gray-spotted woodpeckers, catching glimpses of red deer, until the world seemed reduced to its essentials.

  He wasn’t ready to admit he was glad he flew twenty-one hours to get here, but he did love the Highlands—the people, the mountains, the traditions. It was like nowhere else in the world.

  When he reached Loch Lomond, the beauty was simply stunning. The turquoise blue water rippled crystal clear. His neck itched, and he scratched it, but it didn’t go away. His radar was pinging. Not to warn him of danger, but something else…something he couldn’t put his finger on.

  He scanned the horizon. Not another soul within miles. He was soaking up God’s country all by himself.

  “Crap.” No mystery woman. He must’ve missed her. And he’d gotten himself all worked up to meet someone. Maybe he’d go into town later and ask around. Stop by the café, the bookstore. Maybe he could find her.

  “Cluck. Cluck.” He snapped the reins and drove the sleigh along the path skirting the loch. If he followed it, eventually he’d be on the path back to the castle. After sucking in airplane air for so long, the fresh air lifted his spirits.

  He was driving straight into the morning sun, so he pulled his hat lower to shade his eyes. He squinted. Someone was coming his way, but he couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman.

  As he got closer, his radar exploded. Impossible. It can’t be.

  He pulled back on the reins. “Whoa.” And he sat there as a silent tear streaked down his face.

  Damn you, Elliott. How could you keep this a secret?

  If he didn’t do something to control his emotions, he’d start blubbering like an idiot. He tied off the reins and jumped out.

  “Are you the girl Elliott sent me to find?” God, she looked incredible, poured into a red snowsuit with a white beanie, her long hair gathered and draped over one shoulder.

  “Probably.” She glanced around. “I don’t see anyone else.”

  How was he going to play this? If he touched her, she might dissolve as his images of her had throughout the years. And if she was real, he’d strip her in the snow and make love until they both froze to death.

  No. Too drastic. Play for the laugh and go from there.

  He scooped up a handful of snow, formed a perfect, ice-hard snowball, and drew back his arm.

  “Don’t you dare, Peter Francis Parrino.” Sophia took off running, screaming, “Don’t you dare throw that. I hate snowball fights.”

  God, he loved her, but damn it, he was going to throw it anyway. She should have called him. It hit her smack in the middle of her back. She scooped up a handful of snow and made her own ball.

  “You’re gonna pay for that.” She ran toward him and threw it, hitting him in the chest.

  He tossed his hat on top of the pile of blankets, laughing. “Excellent example of a girly throw, Soph. I taught you to hurl better than that.” He picked up more snow to make another ball and so did she.

  She threw hers first and ran away. “Don’t hit me. Don’t hit me. You throw too hard.”

  “You didn’t think so when we had snowball fights in Central Park.”

  “I was younger then.”

  Instead of throwing the snowball, he tackled her, and she giggled like a school girl as they rolled downhill, the air crackling all around them with sexual energy, hot enough to melt all the snow surrounding Loch Lomond. Her beanie came off and her hair entangled him as they rolled and rolled, finally coming to rest near the sleigh.

  He captured her mouth, and the kiss he gave her was a promise of unleashed passion. Suddenly his fingers were in her hair, gripping strands of it. He was pulling her closer and closer still while small wanting sounds vibrated up from deep within her throat, driving him insane. He instantly went hard against her. If he didn’t stop, he’d lose himself right there in the snow like a horny teenager.

  Her face was mere inches from his, and every memory of her, the slight part of her lips when she was turned on, the pink in her cheeks, the glaze over her eyes, the tautness of her chin, were dead on. He stroked his thumb along her jawline and down to the collar of her snowsuit. He unzipped it to kiss her neck, and he couldn’t stop himself. He kept tugging the zipper lower and lower. And all he found was skin.

  But he stopped.

  Because there were things he needed to know first. He rolled off, tucked his arm under his head, and lay beside her in the snow. “When did you come back, and why?”

  She turned to look at him. “I told Thomas I was from the future.”

  “That was brave.”

  “I had to. My brooch heated up.”

  Pete almost wept at that news, because it meant she wasn’t supposed to be there.

  “I asked Mr. MacKlenna what I should do. He said to tell Thomas where I was from. I did, and Thomas told me he couldn’t live with someone who knew the future, who knew the date of his death. He said he would never have to solve another problem because I already knew what was going to happen.”

  Pete rolled over on his side and stroked the line of her jaw and down her neck again, gazing into her eyes. “The important part was, your brooch heated up. Jefferson wasn’t your soul mate.”

  She cupped his face. “The brooch knew my heart better than I did. In hindsight, I was so caught up in the idea of being considered an Old Master, a First Lady, the wife of Thomas Jefferson, and a grandmother. It was all heady stuff. But it wasn’t heart stuff. You’ve always had my heart, Pete. Always.”

  Everything was wild and fresh and eroding his balance. Thank God he was already on the ground, because he knew his legs wouldn’t support him. And then she was kissing him back, her mouth both pliant and demanding. Desperate for more, he changed the angle of the kiss, then nipped restlessly at her bottom lip just to hear her low, throaty moans.

  He reached inside her jacket to touch her, caress her—.

  “You don’t have anything on under this. You’ll freeze your ass.” He had to get her out of the cold. And if he didn’t get himself out of the cold, he’d shrink to nothing.

  “I didn’t think I’d need anything on under this.”

  She arched her head to one side, inviting his lips to slide down the column of her throat, an invitation he accepted.

  “I haven’t been out here long enough to get cold. Gabriele dropped me just a few yards from where you first saw me.”

  “Gabriele?”

  “You know…the guy who broke into my apartment and stole the Mona Lisa.”

  “He didn’t steal it.”

  She moaned. “I know. I’m just giving you a hard time.”

  “I’m hard enough.
”

  She moaned louder. “I love it when you talk naughty like that.” Her eyes were liquid with desire, her lips full and reddened.

  He kissed her softly, without the urgency pulsing through him. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

  “Not with you. You complete my circle. You always have.”

  He kissed her forehead, her eyelids, then covered her mouth with his, caressing her lips lightly with his tongue. The experience of her body beneath him simply filled his mind—a place of no thoughts, no words. He didn’t break the kiss until he pulled away and began a slow descent with his tongue and lips down the column of her throat.

  “I couldn’t have made it through the last few months without him.”

  Pete forgot who they were talking about. “Without who?”

  “Whom. Gabriele.”

  “I’m kissing your neck and you’re talking about another man. How many times did he hit on you?”

  “He never did. He was always a perfect gentleman. I thought he was just a delivery guy who was extra nice. Turned out he was your friend who only wanted to take care of me in your absence. Matter of fact, the sleigh ride was his idea.”

  Pete stared at her, puzzled. “That’s weird. He knows I’d rather ride an ATV.”

  “You’ll have to ask him.”

  “Gabe’s a hell of a good friend. I’m glad he was there for you. In fact, I can’t wait to hear this story. But how’d you know I was on my way down here?”

  “Elliott sent a text as soon as you drove off. He planned it all down to the second, even your air travel.”

  “Son of a bitch.”

  “Well, they tricked me, too. Got me on an airplane under false pretenses. I was going to wait a few more weeks before I called you.”

  “I’m glad they tricked you, then.” He couldn’t take his eyes off her and her creamy skin.

  “Are you just going to stare at me, or are you going to kiss me some more? It’s a little drafty.”

  “I want to make a meal of you, and I want you to make a meal of me, but right now I’m not going to kiss you again until I have you naked in a bed.” He pulled her to her feet. “Where’s Gabe? He can take the sleigh and I’ll take his car.”