by MacKay, Cali
“I appreciate it.”
Perhaps she’d been too harsh on him and they’d gotten off to a rocky start. It would be good to have his cooperation and knowledge of clan history and lore. So much was often passed down in stories rather than written down. Indeed, it was because of her Scottish grandmother and the tales she’d heard as a child that she’d become interested in the history of her ancestors.
“Well, don’t go getting ahead of yerself, lass. The only way ye’re going to get access to those books is if ye first tell me what yer looking for and why ye’re really here.”
“Look, I’m happy for any help you’re willing to give me, but like I said, I need more information first. I’m not sure of things just yet, and it’d be premature to speculate.” Why did it feel like they were constantly rehashing things? And here she’d gone thinking she’d judged him too harshly.
“No, my dear.” He crossed his arms and stopped walking, his head cocked to the side with a smirk on his lips. “Ye tell me now, or ye can find whatever it is yer looking for without my help or my clan.”
She was tempted to walk away. James had set her nerves on edge, she’d yet to have a cup a coffee, and she was in no mood to negotiate with Iain when Callum had ensured her of their cooperation.
So why was she was stuck dealing with a stubborn bastard like Iain instead of his sweet father? She wanted to turn and go, yet she knew she’d regret it the moment she did. It would leave the treasure—her find—vulnerable to bastards like James, and that wasn’t a risk she was willing to take. Treasure hunters would catch whiff and it would all be over—they wouldn’t care about the historical significance or what it would mean to the people of Scotland. No. They’d only care about pawning it off to the highest bidder.
“Iain, please. I can’t risk this getting out. The vultures are already circling. I’ve done my best to keep it all a secret, but it only takes a single drop of blood to bring the sharks feeding. And they’re hungry, damn it.”
His smirk faded to a look of concern. “If ye’re worried I’ll tell others, I’ll not. Ye have my word. But I need to know what’s going on, especially if there are others looking for whatever it is ye’re trying to find. I have my family to think of and I’ll not jeopardize their safety.”
Now she’d gone and worried him needlessly. James was a lot of things, but she couldn’t see him stooping so low as to hurt anyone physically, not even for a treasure as great as The Highlander’s Hope.
“It’s not like that. It’s a colleague—Dr. James Tanner—who wants to take credit for anything I find. He’s done it before, and I’m afraid it’s made me overly cautious.”
“And can ye say for sure that there aren’t others?”
Weariness had her letting out a long sigh. “No, I’m not sure. There could be other people looking for it, and they may very well be a hell of a lot more ruthless.”
“And ye’ve brought that to my front door? I can’t say I appreciate that, Dr. Ross.”
Crap. What had she done? She looked deep into his sea blue eyes, their gaze intense. “I’m sorry. It’s never been my intention to put anyone in danger. But I’ve been very careful, and I have to believe that no one knows what it is I’m looking for. Not even James.”
“Get inside. We’re going to sort this out right now.” He glanced around as if expecting someone to be watching, and then with a hand on her shoulder, got her moving forward and towards the house.
Once indoors, she followed him down the hall to a portion of the home she’d not been in before. Portraits and weaponry hung on the dark wood paneled walls, while elaborate rugs covered the wide plank flooring, and the ceilings soared high above them. He took one turn and then another, winding around towards the back of the house. Finally, he pulled open a door, and let her step through.
Her heart pitter-pattered in delight at the sight of all the books, despite her recent troubles. Two levels of full-sized book cases lined every wall, the only interruption occurring where the stone fireplace cobbled its way to the ceiling. A roaring fire was already dancing in its confines as if in anticipation of their arrival, warding off the damp of the autumnal morning.
Iain stopped short and spun on her, her reveries over the books dissolving like smoke caught on a wind. “You need to tell me everything you know. Now.”
His eyes locked on hers, his jaw stiff as he spoke. He was angry, but if he thought he could bully her, he’d soon find out just how wrong he was.
“Look, I don’t mind sharing some information, but I can’t tell you everything. This is bigger than all of us, and I can’t risk letting it fall into the wrong hands. I’m here as a researcher, and I swear I’ll do right by your family, but I need your support.”
“I’m sorry, lass, but if ye want my support then ye need to trust me with what it is we’re looking for. You’ve put my family in danger, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to fumble around in the dark not knowing who or what will be coming. I want answers, Cat.”
“Look… James might be an ass, but he wouldn’t physically hurt anyone.”
“Aye, this James seems the trustworthy sort from what ye’ve said of him. And what of the others? Can you be so sure of them?” He ran a rough hand through his thick chestnut locks.
Unfortunately, Iain was right, even if Cat was loath to admit it. “Then help me find it before the others figure out what we’re up to.”
He laughed while shaking his head. “I’d be happy to, lass—if ye’d tell me what the hell it is I’m actually trying to find. Tell me what it is we’re looking for and ye can have access to all ye need, and I’ll help in any way I can. But it’s not going to happen if ye’re keeping secrets from me—especially not when my family’s involved.”
She debated telling him she’d find a way without him, but there was no point to it. Especially not when James was on her trail. Iain had her cornered, and telling him the truth would be the only way to get him to cooperate.
“Fine. We can work together.” Annoyance still crept into her voice, and she put little effort into trying to disguise it.
“Is it The Highlander’s Hope?” When Cat cursed under her breath, he howled in excitement. “I knew it. I just knew it had to be.”
He was grinning like the cat who’d stolen the cream, and she was irked to no end. “So now you know. Happy?”
“It’s a start.” He walked over to a desk, glancing over his shoulder to make sure she was following. “There’s one more order of business. I need ye to sign this.”
Cat picked up the papers and flipped through them, her eyes scanning the pages, her anger building with each word. “Are you kidding? You want me to sign a confidentiality agreement? You must think awfully highly of yourself.”
“What I do think is that the tabloids are happy to get their hands on anything at all, and will pay handsomely for it. So you can either sign, or leave. The choice is yours.”
“You’re awfully good at ultimatums.” She glared at him, but knew there was no point to protesting, and she had no interest in the tabloids, it didn’t really matter. She grabbed a pen from his desk and quickly signed the papers, handing them back to him, none too gently. “I’m not here for gossip or to spy on you and your girlfriends.”
“Just a small precaution is all.” He motioned towards a stack sitting on an end table. “These are the books I mentioned. There are notes in some, and then there are also a few journals. I don’t know where ye’d like to start or what ye’re looking for, but I’m happy to help.”
She took it as a truce. If he was willing to help her find the Hope, then that was all that mattered. Letting out a sigh, she let her anger go, happy to get back to the reason she was there and the only thing of any importance.
Her research had turned up a connection to the jewels few would know about, and even fewer would likely document openly, given the time period. The books Iain had gathered—especially the journals—might help to reinforce the information she’d found. And now that Iain had weaseled hi
s way into her find, she’d make the most of his offer to help.
“I think the journals might be a good place to start, but first, I was wondering if you knew of any clan stories that were passed down through the generations. Given the importance of the jewels, I suspect they’d try to mask the clues in the spoken word rather than the written.”
“My father would be the one to talk to about that—or our housekeeper, Mrs. Wallace. She would likely know the stories better than anyone, though she’s only here once a week on Mondays.”
“Should we go through the journals then?” Despite all the annoyances of the day, excitement bubbled within her like champagne drunk too fast, ecstatic to be looking for the necklace once more.
He leaned against the desk, his arms crossed in front of his chest, so his shirt stretched tight over his muscles. “Not yet, lass. If I’m going to be of any help to ye, I need to know what ye’ve already found.”
And just like that—she felt like a soda gone flat.
She shook her head no, wondering how the hell this all got away from her so quick. “This is not your find, Iain, it’s my research—research I’ve worked hard on. I truly appreciate your help with this, and I’ll give you full credit for that, but it doesn’t mean we’re partners.”
He lazily stretched out his long legs in front of him as if he hadn’t a care in the world and shrugged, a smirk on his lips. “Ye see, I think it means exactly that. If the Hope necklace is found on my lands, then you can have full credit for finding it and analyzing the historical records that uncovered it, but the necklace will still be mine.”
She forced herself to take a deep breath and calm down, so that she wouldn’t lunge at his neck, wrap her fingers around it and strangle the life out of him. “Please, do not tell me you’re going to hock that necklace to the highest bidder. You can’t possibly sell the Hope when it has such historic importance. If you do, then you’re an even bigger jerk than I first thought—and given the circumstances under which we met, that’s saying something.”
“Well, ye may think me a jerk and an idiot, but I take offence that ye’d think I’d sell something of such significance to my country and clan.” He leaned forward so they were only inches away, anger ablaze in his eyes, but she refused to budge even if he was infuriatingly close. “I’m a highlander, aye? That necklace means more to me than you could ever know.”
Cat racked her brain for the legal wording and specifics. “Well, you wouldn’t be able to sell it anyway. Though the Treasure Act may not apply to Scotland, you still abide by bona vacantia, and that means the treasure itself would go to the National Museum, though you’d be paid its equivalent.”
“Ah… but would it really?” His smirk was infuriating. “Ye’ve said ye have information that involves my clan and that my clan was in possession of it, no? And my understanding is that as long as there’s a living descendent, the treasure belongs to that heir. Since my family is still in existence and the rightful heirs, the Highlander’s Hope would remain ours.”
His smug smile made her want to wipe it from his face. Her mind raced through the law’s details, and though she couldn’t come up with all the specifics, Iain would likely have a case in court.
She could only appeal to his honor. “Then I’m begging you, Iain. Do the right thing and keep it safe. Promise me you won’t sell the Highlander’s Hope.”
“Only if ye give me yer word that ye’ll stop being such a pain in my arse.” He cocked his head, humor glinting in his eyes.
“Iain, I want your word. Promise me—or I swear, I won’t be able to think straight.”
He laughed and shook his head, his gaze locked on hers so her breath caught and her heart raced. His voice was gentle when he spoke. “Aye, lass. Whist. Ye have my word.”
Relief overwhelmed her, as a smile tugged at her lips. “You’re just lucky your clan isn’t bigger. ‘Cause there’s no way in hell you’d be my first choice for a partner.”
“Aye, the feeling’s mutual, lass. Believe me… the feeling’s mutual.”
Chapter Four
Iain leaned in to look at the notes Cat had scribbled in her notebook, curious about what had led her to the MacCraigh clan. Now that he was less worried about her snooping around his troubles, and he knew it really was the Hope they were looking for, it could very well be the financial lifeline he needed. He’d do his best to keep his promise to her, but he’d also do whatever was needed to keep his family safe. A heavy weight lifted off his chest, and though he was a long way from breathing easy, he could finally relax a bit.
He looked over at his new partner as she went through her notes. She was an interesting creature. Completely unlike any other woman he’d known. The girl was smart, of that there was no question. What he hadn’t expected was the passion that sparked in those green eyes or the sarcasm and humor that laced her words—especially now that they’d finally sorted out their differences. Truth was, she was far too entertaining a distraction from his troubles. Maybe his father was right after all.
“It really was sheer luck that I found the clue. I’m sure you know of Lord George Murray, a commander to Prince Charles Stuart.” When he nodded, she continued. “Do you know of his trusted friend and lieutenant, Robert Cameron?”
“Aye, it’s rumored he had the necklace well before Culloden, but after that, the references to its whereabouts stop. No one knows where it ended up. There are no references to it, Cat.” He leaned back, wondering if she’d gotten it all wrong. Surely others would have figured it out by now if there were clues out in the open.
“You’re right. There are no references to it—at least not where one might expect to find them. My research actually started as a documentation of love letters during the time of the uprising. Trust me when I tell you, the last thing I expected to find were clues to the Highlander’s Hope.”
“In a love letter?” He supposed it was possible. “But hadn’t historians already looked at the commanders and their families? One would think it’d show up.”
She spun in her seat to face him, a knowing smile dancing upon her full lips. “They did look at their families. However, our dear Mr. Cameron, though loyal to Bonnie Prince Charlie, was a little less loyal to his wife. The love letter was to Nessa, his mistress. Very few knew about their relationship back then, and even fewer were aware of it with the passing of time.”
Her smile was infectious, for he could now see how it may have all played out. “Cameron gave her the jewels.”
“Exactly! He knew his family would come under scrutiny by the British, and didn’t want the necklace to be found or for his family to be implicated. Since few knew about his mistress, she seemed the logical choice.” Her excitement softened, and her eyes seemed distant, as if she’d been transported to a different time. “He loved her, and she loved him. Their trust was implicit and complete. He knew she wouldn’t betray him—and don’t you see? It was their love and trust that kept this priceless treasure safe all these years.”
He had to smile at her dreamy-eyed romanticism. “And my clan? How was my family connected?”
“Nessa had been married and widowed. It was her husband—he was a MacCraigh. They had two sons together before his untimely death—they’d be your ancestors.” She closed her notebook. “From what I can tell, her relationship with Robert didn’t start until after she’d become widowed from John MacCraigh. I believe Robert and John had been good friends and once John passed away, Robert did his best to help his friend’s widow and sons.”
“Ah… and help the widow he did.” It was starting to make sense.
“It wasn’t like that, Iain.” She shifted in her seat, her brows pulled in a furrow. “Nessa and Robert had been friends before she married, and they didn’t become lovers for years after John’s death.”
Iain realized just how seriously she took all this. She was truly vested in these people’s lives. He guessed it must happen when one did such extensive research. “I’d not meant to imply that she wasn’t loyal to
her husband.”
“I know it doesn’t really matter, but…” She sighed with a shrug.
“Aye, lass. I get it. Ye get to know them through their letters and looking into their lives. And it does matter. My apologies. I’d meant no disrespect.” He gave her hand a quick squeeze, trying to reassure her that he truly meant the words he’d just spoken. Though they’d gotten off to a rocky start, he was happy the tension between them had eased. “Where did ye find the letters anyway?”
“The museum’s library didn’t have a whole lot of information on them. Only that they’d been found tucked away in a hidden compartment of a desk that was being reconditioned. Whoever found them thought they might be of historical significance and donated them.”
He supposed some of his family’s furnishings could have gotten sold off during less prosperous times or been given away as a form of payment. “What happened to the happy couple?”
“Robert died at Culloden. As for Nessa, she married soon after Robert’s death, and quickly bore her husband a daughter.”
Iain looked at her in question. “How quick?” The implied meaning wasn’t lost on Cat.
“Quicker than most would have expected given the date of her marriage.” She smiled at that, as if happy that Nessa was able to keep a part of Robert with her after his death.
A hopeless romantic. Iain had to smile at that. “Well then, we might as well get started.”
“I have copies of the letters if you want to go through them. Might be a good idea, since you know your family history, and I could easily miss something, not thinking it important.” She pulled a file from her bag and handed it to him. “Here. Just please, do not leave these hanging around. The fewer people who know about your family’s connection, the better.”
“And what of this guy ye’re worried about? Does he know ye’re after the necklace?” If there was an outside threat, then he needed to know just how serious it was.
