The Highlander's Hope - A Contemporary Highland Romance

by MacKay, Cali

  “Something’s not quite right. He seems panicked.” Iain knelt down and grabbed the dog, murmuring to him to try and calm him down. “Are ye alright, pup? What happened?”

  “It’s probably because he got locked in the room.”

  “Aye, but that’s unusual in and of itself. The doors will catch a draft from time to time and slam shut, but it doesn’t happen that often, and not when all the windows are closed.” Iain dug into his pocket. “Take my keys. I want ye to wait for me in my car.”

  “You think someone broke in?” She felt the surge of adrenaline as her heart started to pound. “The paintings and letters.”

  She raced forward, but he grabbed her arm, preventing her moving past him. “If ye’re not going to listen to me, then we’ll go together. Stay behind me, and if I tell ye to go, ye’re to run to my car and lock the doors.”

  He grabbed the shotgun from the closet, checked the ammunition and then moved forward towards the library, poking his head in the other rooms as they went past.

  Cat saw the paintings, but couldn’t find the rest. “The letters and journals are gone.”

  Iain stood by his desk, fumbling with a key. “I locked them away before leaving this morning. They’re still here.”

  Cat let out a huge sigh of relief. “Bloody hell. I nearly had a heart attack.”

  Iain looked around the room, pulling back the curtains, before heading for the hall. “Stay here with Duncan. I’m going to check out the rest of the house. Make sure to lock the door behind me.”

  She wanted to tell Iain he was being paranoid again, but she remembered the footsteps on the patio last night, and knew he was right to be cautious. While she waited, she took the time to go through their items to make sure nothing had gone missing. If someone had riffled through things, they’d done a decent enough job of leaving them undisturbed—just like James had done with her laptop and computer.

  If it was him—and in all likelihood, it was—Iain would have a hard time keeping her from murdering the lying, sneaky ass. She still couldn’t believe she’d been stupid enough to fall for James.

  As for Iain and that kiss? What the hell had she been thinking? She could not let herself get caught in that trap, and she most definitely had to stop replaying their kiss over and over in her mind. It was a one-off, and it had to stay that way. She had to focus on what was important, and that was finding the Highlander’s Hope—not some steamy entanglement with a cantankerous laird.

  The knock on the library door was followed by Iain’s voice and Duncan trotting across the room. Cat let Iain in, but already knew he had bad news if the look on his face was anything to go by.

  “There’s a broken pane in the room we found Duncan in, and a grease stain on the rug, in addition to an unlocked door they likely used to leave.”

  “That makes sense then. They could keep Duncan distracted with food, giving them time to close the door behind them, and then leave using a different exit.”

  “Did ye have a closer look to make sure things didn’t go missing?”

  “I don’t think he took anything, but there’s a good chance he got photos of the paintings and may have found my notes, though they were tucked away in my work bag.” She shook her head. “I swear, if I see James again…”

  “If ye see him, ye’re to pretend nothing happened. It’ll only reinforce that ye’re looking for something of value.” He took her hand and pulled her in close, nuzzling her cheek, as she tried not to turn towards his lips, her heart racing to have him so near. “For now, we’re going to keep pretending to be a couple, without a care in the world. I doubt he knows what we’re looking for, and we might still be able to get away with him thinking the paintings and your notes were nothing more than your curiosity about my clan.”

  “Are you sure this isn’t just an excuse to kiss me again?” Her eyebrow perked in question, but really, her cool demeanor was nothing more than a façade to cover up the inner voice telling her she’d lost her mind.

  He leaned in with a smile, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “Again? I don’t recall any kiss, my dear. Nor will I recall this…”

  With an arm around her waist, he brushed his lips against hers in a whisper, before trailing kisses down the curve of her neck and over to her ear, sending a shiver of need through to her very core. She leaned against him as he kissed her full on the lips, her hands fisting his shirt as she lost herself in him, his hard body pressed against hers.

  When she finally managed to undo their lip-lock, she was short of breath and her body felt like it was on fire. Good thing he was still holding onto her too, since her legs felt like taffy on a hot summer day.

  “Ye’re blushing, love.”

  “That didn’t happen either.”

  “Of course not.”

  “What are we going to do about James?” Turning the conversation back to the true matter at hand seemed to be her safest bet. As soon as she felt stable on her feet, she slipped out of his arms, cursing herself for being weak again.

  She reminded herself that she was dealing with a man who changed his women more frequently than it rained in Scotland. Though she had no problem with the occasional fling or one night stand, she could see herself ending up with a broken heart if she wasn’t careful. Somehow he kept managing to get past her defenses.

  “I think paying him a friendly visit might help him rethink any further mischief. We’ll play up that we think he’s a jealous ex, but still won’t mention the research or the paintings. Might help to reinforce the idea that we’re just a couple.” He brushed her cheek, his touch lingering, slipping into his role of boyfriend far too easily. “That’ll have to wait until tomorrow though, since we’re now going to find us those jewels. What do ye say?”

  “Let’s get started then.” She was relieved to get back to work and put a bit of space between them. “Should we go through the paintings or the journals first?”

  “The paintings, since they’ll be quicker. That way we can either check them off the list or look into them further.” Iain ran a hand through his hair as he looked around at the paintings. “Maybe if we line them up?”

  She started propping them against the bookshelves, trying her best to sort them by time period. Most of them appeared to be of the MacCraigh home and land, and its inhabitants. Some of the scenery even made more than one appearance.

  Cat pulled out her cell phone. “Maybe we should take a picture of each? They could have easily been stolen today, and then we wouldn’t have them for reference.”

  “Aye. It’s a good idea. Some sort of security wouldn’t go amiss, either.”

  While she took a snap of each painting, including close-ups, he squatted down in front of them to get a better look. Done with the photos, she joined him in front of Nessa’s portrait.

  “Anything?”

  Iain tilted his head to the side as if trying to see something from a different angle.

  “Right there.” He pointed to an area around her neck and chest, which had been modestly covered with ruffled lace. “Is it just me, or does it look like there’s just a ghost of a necklace underneath that sheer fabric?”

  Cat leaned in for a closer look, and then pulled away to see if it could be better seen from a distance. “I suppose there could be something there under the folds, but it might also be the shading. It’s hard to tell.”

  “Aye. It’s a pity it’s not more definitive.”

  She looked at the paintings again. “I noticed that in a few of these, the same bit of landscape seems to keep showing up. You’d think that with all the surrounding lands, they might paint something other than the same rocky outcrop. Or does it have some special clan significance?”

  “This one here?” He pointed to the scenery that could be seen out the window of the portrait. “No. No significance at all. But ye know what is interesting? It’s not accurate. This part here is correct. It’s as ye’d see it from the window in the sitting room. But ye see this wall of stone here? I recognize it. And I ca
n tell ye, there’s no way ye’d be able to see if from the house.”

  She got a jolt of excitement. “Do you think that could be it then?”

  He shrugged with a smile. “We’ve still got a few hours of daylight, if ye feel like a bit of a hike.”

  “Give me a sec, and I’ll get changed.” With a huge smile and an adrenaline high pounding through her veins, she trotted off to the room she was staying in.

  And swallowed her scream.

  Chapter Eight

  Cat’s stifled cry had Iain running up the stairs, taking them two and three at a time. He caught her just as she burst out of her room, quickly taking her in to make sure she wasn’t hurt. “What’s happened? Are ye all right?”

  She nodded, but had yet to speak. When she finally did, it was through a jaw clenched tight with anger. “He was here. James.”

  He stepped past her and into the guest room, immediately taking in the scene. A dead dove lay in the middle of her bed, staining the covers with its blood, the curtains billowing in front of an open window.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t check yer room. I hadn’t wanted to invade yer privacy. And ye think this is also James?”

  Cat nodded. “He used to call me his little dove. It could be a coincidence, but since we already think he broke in, I doubt the bird’s an accident.”

  “Aye, I agree. I’m starting to think he’ll stop at nothing to get what he wants. Breaking into my home and threatening my guest? I’ll not stand for it.” He’d be damned if he was going to let it happen again. “He’ll not get away with this, Cat.”

  “Damn right. If he thinks this is going to scare me off, then he’s in for a rude awakening. Are you still up for that hike?”

  He loved her determination, but worried it was affecting her more than she was letting on. Still, the sooner they found the necklace, the better. “Ye can move into the room across the hall. If ye want to grab yer things, I’ll clean this up.”

  Her hand was gentle as she brushed his arm, her gaze finding his. “Thank you.”

  She left his side to gather her things, but he could still feel her touch lingering on his skin. What the hell was he doing? He cursed himself for growing attached to her. Their ruse had done more than get the village talking—it’d shown him just what it would be like to have her at his side.

  Under normal circumstances, he’d keep it casual—not that he’d have given her a second look before all this began. The parade of models he’d dated were more his style, and yet… he’d never been so annoyed, interested, or turned on.

  Well, if nothing else, they’d help each other find the jewels, and keep each other entertained in the process. She was nothing more than a fleeting interest fueled by the mystery and excitement of a treasure hunt.

  He grabbed the covers and sheets off the bed, the bird bundled within, and took them out to the trash, after a passing thought that he should call the police. There’d be little chance of them doing anything more than filing a report, so he quickly dismissed it. The last thing he needed was his name in the tabloids, and he knew if they caught wind of it, they’d somehow manage to spin it into a maelstrom of a story—not to mention they’d latch onto Cat as his latest fling. He could only imagine her reaction to that.

  By the time he got on his hiking boots and grabbed his jacket, Cat was coming down the stairs in a warm sweater and jeans that hugged every curve on a body one wouldn’t expect on a historian. “Ready?”

  She grabbed her jacket from the coat rack and put it on, flicking her hair free from under her collar. She’d been wearing it down since he kept yanking out her hair clip every chance he got, under the guise that she shouldn’t look like she was working if they were pretending she was on a romantic getaway. Truth was he hated to see her trying to tame her locks, when those curls clearly wanted to bounce free.

  “Ready.” She gave him a smile, but it seemed forced.

  “Are ye sure ye’re doing all right? We can leave it for tomorrow, if ye’re not up for it. It is rather late for a hike.” He was worried about her. The implied threat of the dead bird would be enough to have most abandoning the project and bolting from town. Yet here she stood ready to soldier on, as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

  “You worry too much, Iain MacCraigh. Now, come on. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let James find the necklace first.”

  The rain settled into a fine mist. Being born and bred a highlander, the weather didn’t tend to bother him much, yet he wasn’t alone on their adventure, and suspected Cat would be frozen to the bone by the time they made it back.

  He turned to conversation to distract her from the cold, while guiding her through the woods. “So what made ye decide to study Scottish history? Seems like an odd choice for an American.”

  “It was my Gran. She grew up not far from here. When I was little, she would tell me all sorts of stories about Prince Charlie’s Jacobites, and the clans.” Her eyes sparkled as she recalled her childhood. “There weren’t many programs in the States, so when I got accepted to Cambridge, I jumped at the chance. Would have liked to go to Edinburgh, but Cambridge gave me a full scholarship.”

  “Hard to do better than Cambridge. And yer Gran sounds like my own Grannie—and Mrs. Wallace, whom ye’ve yet to meet. I think every Scot is raised on the stories of old.” When they got to a craggy outcropping, he reached back and took her hand to help her over the uneven terrain and to be there if she lost her footing. “We’re nearly there.”

  The path they were on was narrow and not clearly visible unless you knew where to look. He led her up a steep incline, the rock face he was looking for just up ahead. “Careful. It’s a long tumble to the bottom of the hill.”

  When she looked over her shoulder, her grip on his hand tightened. “Yeah… you aren’t kidding.”

  He pulled her closer to him and onto surer ground, before leading her through some trees. “There it is.”

  A large chunk of pink granite jutted out from the cliff side at an odd angle. Flecks of dark grey interspersed through the rose-colored stone, along with crystalline segments that caught the light of the sun, now low on the horizon. Surrounding the granite was a dark grey sandy-textured stone, formed in such a way as to shape the granite into something resembling a heart if viewed from the right angle.

  “It’s just like in the painting—except there’s no way in hell you’d see this rock face from any window at your home.”

  “Yet if ye didn’t know the area well, ye might not notice that it didn’t belong.” He took her by the shoulders and gently shifted her to the side. “Do ye see it now?”

  She looked up at him with a smile. “It’s a heart, right?”

  “Aye, it goes by several names, but I’ve always known it as the Bleeding Heart. It was probably called that because of the way the dark grey stone sort of cuts the heart in half. However, the real question is, how does this lead us to the necklace?” Iain started to search around for any rifts in the rock where someone might be able to stash something, but turned up empty.

  “Could it be buried here?” She gave him a crooked grin, her hair flying in the wind.

  “I suppose so, though without a metal detector or tearing up half the hill, I’m not sure how we’d find it, short of it being buried right here.”

  “I don’t suppose you have a metal detector?” Her lips quirked into a smile.

  “No, love. I usually make my money rather than go digging for it. Sorry to disappoint. And it’s not like we know for sure that this is actually a clue.” He couldn’t recall any stories about the stone itself, and the other names had long escaped his memory. “When we get back, I’ll call my father. There’s a good chance he might know some of the local lore.”

  “It could also be that it’s only part of a clue. It might be that there are several pieces that work together. It would be another way to safeguard the necklace from falling into the wrong hands.”

  “That makes sense. Why don’t we head back then and take a look at the ot
her paintings? It’ll be dark before long, and I’d rather not get us stranded out here for the night.” Iain was familiar enough with the woods around his home, but he was without any light source, and it’d be too easy for Cat to misstep and hurt herself. She didn’t exactly have a great track record around him.

  Not wanting her to slip on the way down, Iain took her hand. “Careful. And if ye need me to slow down, just say so.”

  As steep as the path was, they both ended up slipping and sliding their way down the hill, holding each other up half the time. By the time they finally made it back, they were wet, cold, and dark had fallen.

  “Go get changed into something dry, while I get us some tea.” Even Iain was cold to the bone, though he didn’t regret going out. It felt like they were one step closer to finding the jewels, though he was also two steps closer to wanting Cat. Now that they’d actually gotten started with the research, he thought they worked rather well together.

  “Forget about the tea for a few minutes. You’ll catch your death if you don’t get out of those clothes.”

  “I could think of other ways to get warm, if ye’re interested.” Did those words really just come out of his mouth?

  Her brows perked up, and a stern yet amused look danced in her eyes. “You didn’t just say that.”

  The way her lips curled into a lazy smile made him want to show her exactly what he had in mind. Why he was having such a hard time staying away from her was beyond him.

  “Say what? I don’t seem to recall.” Yet his arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her close.

  The furious blush that covered her cheeks only made him want her more—and that was a problem. He was not good at hanging around the morning after, and she was definitely the type who couldn’t do casual. It’d be stupid to ruin their working relationship when there was so much at stake, and yet…

  He leaned in to kiss her and was met with a hand on his chest. “This is a bad idea.”

  “It is.” His next attempt fared no better. “So then why can’t I help myself?”

  “Because you’ve obviously had every woman you’ve ever been interested in fall into bed with you.” She scoffed out a laugh at him. “You’re good looking, rich, and a land-owning laird with his own little castle. I doubt many have refused you.”