by Donna Grant
“I am.”
Merrill crossed his arms over his chest. “She was a child. How can you trust what she remembers?”
“The same gut feeling that led me to her. Just as I know that she’s no’ told us everything. There is more. Whether it’s what happened that night or over the three weeks before she was found, there are missing parts of the story.”
“Since I didna believe she would share what she did, if anyone can get it out of her, it’s you,” Merrill said.
Cináed wasn’t so sure. “I doona think it’ll be as easy as you say.”
“When you return to the isle, because we both know you will, doona go without me.”
“I willna.”
As Cináed walked away, Merrill said, “And doona think I didna see you looking at her as if you want to eat her up.”
Cináed flipped him off and kept walking.
Chapter Ten
Gemma drove as fast as she dared on the slick streets back to her cottage. In her rush to get out of the car, she forgot to unbuckle her seatbelt, which kept her from actually exiting. Then, when she tried to unbuckle it, she somehow managed to become entangled with it, causing her to fall out of her car onto her hands.
She jumped up, thankful that no one was there to see it. But if she thought the seatbelt was finished with her, she was wrong. It twisted around her foot. This time she managed to stay upright, hopping around like an idiot until she was finally—mercifully—free.
Gemma slammed the door, glaring at the offensive piece and thinking of the wasted seconds she could’ve been inside picking up. She happened to glance down at her attire. No. She could’ve been changing.
She stormed off toward the front door, not sure if she was still angry at her car or the fact that she wanted to change. It had been way too long since she had given consideration to what anyone—especially a man—thought about the clothes she wore. And yet that’s exactly what she was doing.
Then again, Cináed wasn’t just any man. He was helping her find answers, and to top it off he was going to take her case against the individuals who had disregarded the NDAs. She still couldn’t believe it.
And a part of her truly believed that Cináed had some kind of agenda. Though she wasn’t so sure it was about her. She had been around enough people who sought something from her that she was able to discern it pretty quickly. Cináed was different. He did want something, but she wasn’t sure exactly what that was yet.
She had yet to decipher how helping her fit into his plans, but she would. Patience was a virtue that she had mastered. For once, she felt as if she was the one who was actually getting the benefit with a partnership. It was a new experience, and quite frankly she wasn’t sure how to handle it.
Gemma tossed her keys into the glass bowl on the table by the front door. She plopped her purse next to it and took a step before she lifted her foot and tugged off her boots. She ran into her bedroom, placed the boots in her closet and hurriedly yanked off her clothes.
Her fingers ran across the clothes hanging in her closet. She didn’t have much. It was easier to pack light when one moved so frequently. And wouldn’t you know that there wasn’t a single shirt she wanted to wear.
Then she remembered the black one that she always felt good in. She searched the closet but it wasn’t there. A sigh left her when she remembered it was in a pile to be washed.
“Of course it is.”
She settled for a dark gray pullover that didn’t cling too tightly to her but still showed off her curves. Not that she wanted Cináed to notice her.
Liar.
Ignoring her subconscious, she found a pair of jeans and slipped them on. Then she rushed into the bathroom and began to brush out her hair. She’d gotten halfway through when there was a knock.
Gemma quickly finished and walked from the bathroom. She happened to look down and saw that for some reason she only had on one sock. She removed it and shoved it into her purse as she reached the door.
There she paused to take a deep breath before opening it. Her gaze landed on Cináed, who gave her an incredibly sexy crooked grin that caused her stomach to flutter. She put a hand on her abdomen to stop it before she stepped aside to allow him to enter.
His gaze moved over her, though he didn’t say anything about her change of clothes. She wasn’t sure if she was happy about that or not. Gemma decided to let it go and focus on other things.
Cináed walked to the table and set the messenger bag in the chair. It took her a moment to realize what he looked at. It wasn’t until she went to the table that she caught sight of the locket. It didn’t look as if it had spent the last twenty-two years in the sea hidden from sight.
“I cleaned it,” he said into the silence.
Gemma lifted her gaze to him. “Thank you.”
She had yet to touch it. Frankly, a part of her was afraid to. If seeing it had sent her spiraling back to that night what would putting it on do? She wasn’t ready to discover that.
Gemma cleared her throat and rubbed her hands on her hips, letting her palms scrape against the denim. “I...uh...I don’t know where to begin.”
“You already have,” Cináed replied. “Tell me about the rest of the piles you made from the papers at Dreagan.”
Yes! Something she could focus on. “I have looked at each of those articles more times than I can remember. The couple who took me in tried to hide them from me, but I was able to get the articles other ways. I hid them from everyone. Sometimes I read them, sometimes I would just put them together for a day that I knew I would need them. It became a habit. For as long as I can remember, I researched everything about myself and my family. I suppose that’s how I fell into my career.”
“Can you tell me how you chose Clacher when you changed your surname?”
His question took her by surprise. That was something no one had ever asked her about, but she could tell that it meant something to Cináed. Perhaps this was part of the angle he was after.
Gemma shrugged. “It was no great endeavor. I saw it in some papers I found at the house on the isle when I was there by myself. It stayed with me, I suppose. When I made the name change, it was the first name that popped into my head. And it seemed to fit. So I used it.”
“I see,” Cináed said, nodding absently as he glanced at the table.
“Were you expecting another answer?”
He drew in a quick breath and twisted his lips. “I wouldna say that.”
“But the Clacher name means something to you.”
Cináed didn’t deny it. He stared at her a moment before he said, “Aye. It does.”
“You think my family has something to do with them? Is that why I found that name?”
He scratched the side of his head and wrinkled his nose. “No’ as far as I can see. We did a genealogy search of your family. You are no’ connected to the Clachers in any way.”
Gemma found her lips parting ready to deny that when some voice inside her head screamed at her to remain silent.
“What?” Cináed pressed as he peered at her. “What just went through your mind? What were you about to say?”
She shrugged and looked anywhere but his gray eyes. “I’m not really sure.”
He pulled out a chair and sat while resting his forearms on the table. “I know there is still much I need to do in order to gain your trust. I’m prepared to do that, but if you are no’ willing to trust me, then this may no’ work.”
Gemma turned away. Her gaze landed on the cup of tea she’d made before Cináed had arrived earlier. She walked to get it and rinsed it out at the sink. He didn’t say a word as she completed the task.
She put her hands on the counter and closed her eyes for a heartbeat. “You have every right to say that.” She then turned to face him. “You want me to share, but it’s only fair that you do the same.”
“I’m sorry?” he asked, a frown marring his forehead.
“What’s your interest in the Clacher name? It’s obvious it holds
some importance to you.”
Cináed pressed his lips together and nodded before a smile curved his lips. “You’re right, of course. Like you, I’m used to keeping things about myself secret.”
“Because people want to exploit your name and money? Or is it the connection to one of the most well-known brands around the world?”
“Something like that,” he replied.
It was one of those answers that Gemma knew well. The kind that gave a reply but didn’t really respond to anything. She held his gaze and lifted a brow. To her surprise, Cináed chuckled.
“It seems we both need to learn to trust,” he said. “I’ll tell you what I can, because there are some things I can no’ share.”
It was the first time anyone had ever told her they couldn’t tell her something, and she didn’t like it. At all. Was this how others viewed her? She was getting a dose of her own medicine, and it left a very bad taste in her mouth.
“Sounds fair,” she replied.
Cináed smiled and motioned to the table. Gemma pushed away from the counter and took the chair opposite him at the round table. Even sitting she was aware of how wide his shoulders were and how tall he was. He dwarfed her already small cottage, but at the same time, she found that she liked him there. He seemed at home in her place as much as he did in the opulence and grandeur of Dreagan Manor.
And she suspected there were few men who could pull that off. It was just another way that Cináed was different.
Gemma waited for him to begin. The frown he wore intensified as the seconds ticked by. “Would you rather not tell me?” she finally asked.
He met her gaze and said, “That’s no’ it at all. I’m trying to figure out where to begin the story.”
“The beginning is usually the best.”
He gave her a look of regret.
“Ah. I see.” She nodded. “Give me the facts that you can. We’ll make it work.”
That seemed to ease his mind. He sat back in the chair then, relaxing. “The Clachers that I’m interested in come from the Isle of Eigg.”
Since Eigg was in the same cluster of islands of the Hebrides that included the isle she’d grown up on, she realized why he had made the connection. “A family connection?”
“No’ to mine, but to the woman married to one of my brothers.”
Gemma crossed one leg over the other. “I see. Are you tracing a family history?”
“Aye. The Clachers were a verra prominent family in the past, but there was an event that wiped them all out.”
Her brows shot up. “An event?”
Cináed blew out a breath. “The fact is, someone murdered every one of them.”
Gemma’s mouth fell open in shock at the news. “Do you know why?”
“It was in retaliation. The Clachers were no’ just respected, but also feared by some because they had become so powerful.”
“If all of them were wiped out, then anyone using that name would instantly call your attention,” she surmised.
Cináed smiled. “Exactly. Couple that with your story, and I couldna walk away without looking deeper into things.”
“Well, I hate to disappoint, but there is nothing to the name I chose. Like I said, I found it on some papers and it stuck.”
“What kind of papers?” he pressed.
She shrugged, searching her mind. “I don’t remember. Honestly, as a kid, I probably wouldn’t have even realized what they were.”
“Do you remember where these papers were?”
“In the attic. There were boxes hidden in a dresser. I searched every nook and cranny of that house, so anything that looked hidden like that I immediately went through. It wasn’t as if I had anyone telling me to stay out of it.”
Cináed leaned forward, his arms folding on the table. “Can you recall if there were a lot of boxes?”
“Just a couple. Three at the most, if I remember right.” She realized where his questioning was headed. “You want to go back to the isle, don’t you?”
He bowed his head to her. “It would be good to go through and find those papers.”
With everything he was doing for her, who was she to deny him such a thing? “Go find what you need.”
“You willna come with me?”
She glanced at the locket. “No.”
Chapter Eleven
It’s what Cináed had expected. Still, he’d thought Gemma might change her mind and be willing to return to the isle. Obviously, he’d been wrong.
“I can tell you exactly where to look,” she told him.
He issued a quick smile to let her know that her concession was fine. “I’d appreciate that.”
“You’re disappointed.”
“I’m no’ going to push you to do something that you are no’ comfortable with.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and cocked her head at him. “But you think I should go.”
“I wasna there that night. You were. You know what you can and can no’ handle.”
“I’ve had others tell me that returning as an adult might take away some of the fear.”
“They have a point.”
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to go back.”
“You think being there will make you relive it all over again.”
Her head bobbed up and down.
“But you’re stuck experiencing it all again and again anyway.”
Her pale blue orbs glanced away before she said, “I am. So I should face it. Why have I waited all these years to realize that?”
“Trauma wraps each person in its own special web.”
She dropped her arms to her lap. “What happens if you find the papers I told you about and they don’t help with your search for the Clachers?”
“I continue helping you. My aid in this isna contingent on anything with the Clachers. If anything, that’s a bonus.”
“I want you to feel as if you can walk away at any time,” she said.
Cináed smiled at her. “I hope you feel the same.”
“Then we’re in agreement.”
“So it seems.”
She looked away, a soft smile about her lips. “I have to admit, I’m glad you found me.”
“You’re just glad you backed into me,” he teased.
Her gaze jerked back to him as she laughed. “Never.”
He saw her eyes go to the dog bed and her smile faded. Cináed was glad she’d had her dog with her that night so Gemma didn’t have to suffer through all of it alone. It built a connection with dogs, one that helped her get through each day.
“Shall I bring Duke with us?”
That made her laugh again. Cináed liked the sound of it. It was raw and full, nothing held back. For someone who was so reserved, it was nice to see that when she did give in to the humor, she let it all out.
“I think I’ll be fine. But thank you for the offer,” she said.
Cináed shrugged. “Or you could just make believe I’m the dog.”
Their gazes met, held. He recalled the feel of her small, soft hand in his, of how she hadn’t hesitated to take it. It showed that she trusted him—a little.
“If it comes to that,” she replied softly.
His blood heated just thinking about their brief contact. Gemma was beautiful. Her vulnerability and steel backbone fascinated him. She was a contradiction and somehow that made her a temptation he couldn’t resist.
“So,” he said and cleared his throat while trying to pull his mind away from wondering what it would be like to kiss her. “Would you be ready to go to the isle tomorrow?”
She raised her shoulders to her ears and dropped them. “Why put it off, right? Tell me what airline, and I’ll book my flight.”
“We’ll be flying by chopper.”
“Oh. Right. Then tell me how much I owe for my share.”
He tried to hide his grin, but he couldn’t help it. He liked that she didn’t assume anything. She had lived on her own nearly her entire life, and she was used to doin
g everything herself.
“Actually, Dreagan has a helicopter that we’ll be taking.”
Her eyes widened. “I see. And let me guess, you know how to fly it.”
“Of course.”
“Of course,” she mimicked with a laugh.
Bit by bit she was relaxing. The smiles came easier, the laughter louder. He likened her to a flower. With each petal unfurling, he got to see a different side of her. And he liked each and every one.
“Unless you’d rather go a different route,” he offered.
She shook her head of ginger hair. “I’ve never been in a helicopter before. I’m looking forward to it.”
“I promise I’m a good pilot.”
She cut her eyes to the messenger bag. “Not that I particularly want to discuss my past, but it is the reason you came. There is a small stack that I set aside.”
Cináed opened the bag and pulled out each group of papers that had been clipped together. He set them all before her and watched while she shuffled through them until she came to the stack she’d mentioned.
Gemma handed it to him. “The authorities said that there were no witnesses to anything.”
Cináed glanced at the paper before him. He remembered it. There was an account by a man who claimed that he saw a bright flash on the isle the night Gemma’s family disappeared. The man told two different reporters, who wrote up pieces a year apart.
“Based on the police reports I read, no one questioned this man,” Cináed told her.
She clasped her hands together on the table. “No, they didn’t. But I did.”
Now that surprised him. “And?”
“He has dementia and recalls nothing.”
“I might send Merrill to talk to him. Perhaps we’ll get lucky and find out something.”
She bit her lip and picked at her thumbnail, which was chipped in the corner. “I never saw a bright light of any kind.”
“It might be nothing more than lightning he saw. Then again, it could be something else. I doona like how the authorities didna talk to him.”
Gemma leaned forward on the table and caught his gaze. “Based on everything you’ve read, do you think it was an accident like others say? That the rope holding the boat broke and slammed them up against the rocks?”
