“And they’d do more than talk, judging by your face.”
“It’s likely that it would be unpleasant. So they won’t find us, not for a while at least.”
“I never meant for you to be dragged in like this,” she whispered.
“Hush.” It was soft, but it was an order just the same. His smile returned as he wove deftly past an a school bus and two dairy vans. “There’s a box behind you that comes courtesy of Marston. Take out everything inside it.” There was the faintest lift to Jared’s lips. “Then you will kindly put them on.”
~ ~ ~
Twenty minutes later it was done.
Maggie’s face was hidden beneath a layer of white greasepaint, with two bright red circles at her cheeks. Her hair was caught up beneath a wig of carrot-red yarn, and Jared’s change was completed soon after.
An hour later when he slowed for a roundabout near Elstow in Bedfordshire, Jared noticed two police officers watching the flow of traffic, checking each car and its occupants against a photograph. No one looked twice at the car with the Elite Party Service sign. Nor did the officers pay the slightest heed to the smiling Raggedy Ann and Andy who waved from the front seat.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Hills of green bordered the twisting road. Fading sunlight brushed ruined castles and the walls of medieval abbeys. Mist crept over the wooded valleys as Jared left the main roads and wound north toward the Border country.
“This isn’t right.” Maggie’s shoulders were hunched and tense. “I should have stayed, Jared. I should fight these people face to face.”
“That might be honorable,” he agreed. “It would also be madness. Your father didn’t underestimate these men, and neither can we.”
Maggie made an angry sound. “I’m trying to do the right thing.”
Jared raised her palm to his lips. “Stop worrying. Your father appears to be a man who can handle himself.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t be so good at that intuition of yours.” Maggie sighed, staring down at their locked fingers. “What does it feel like, this thing you do?”
“Painful sometimes. Intrusive always.”
“And right now what do you see?”
“Just a shimmer of images in the back of my mind. Faint colors. Sometimes a ripple of sound, almost like voices in a distant room. I’m finally learning to turn down the volume when I need to.”
Maggie brushed his knuckles with her lips. I love you, she thought. Madly.
“The volume just spiked,” Jared said wryly. His voice deepened. “I love you too, Margaret Elizabeth Kincade. More than madly.”
“What happens next?”
“We drive and hope we’re not followed.”
Maggie took a breath, then let it out slowly. A silver river snaked past the broken wall of an old tower, each stone a dark giant in the fading light. “Tell me about this place where we’re going. Glenbrae, you called it?”
“It’s secluded and full of magic, according to Nicholas. Of course most of Scotland is magical if you have the taste for mist and green hills.”
Maggie turned her head at the tremor of longing she heard in Jared’s voice. “You miss that, don’t you?”
“Sometimes. But there was no longer anything to hold me in the village. Or anywhere else in Scotland.”
“What about your family?”
“My parents are both gone. My brother…” Jared stared into the dark line of the distant mountains. “My brother died at his own hand. The MacNeill gift was more than he could bear.”
Maggie’s fingers tightened. I’m here, she thought. For as long as you’ll have me. Until forever if you want it.
His fingers laced with hers. “Forever won’t be half long enough.”
“I’ll hold you to that, Commander. Now tell me about this beautiful glen.”
“Green hills and fine dark woods above a pristine loch. The house is thirteenth century. A traditional Scottish tower house with turnpike stairways and all the usual fortifications.”
“Fortifications?”
“Window slits. Gun loops and massive walls, built to hold out rival clans or generally nasty neighbors. Fighting was a way of life back then.”
Maggie hid a shudder. “No dungeons, I hope. And no wars now either.”
“Only the tourism wars, waged for hard cash. Glenbrae House does well enough in that area, I believe. Nicholas says that visitors come back again and again for its rugged beauty and the roses that bloom far into autumn. Thankfully, the owners are obsessive about period authenticity.”
“They’re expecting us?”
Jared nodded. “For safety, we’ll have to use different names, of course.”
“That’s what my father said.” More deception, Maggie thought. More danger to innocent strangers who shouldn’t be involved. She tried to calm her thoughts, knowing Jared would read her clearly. ‘‘Do you think Nicholas managed to cover our tracks?”
Shadows touched Jared’s face. “If not,” he said grimly, “we’ll know it soon enough.”
~ ~ ~
Hope O’Hara MacLeod stood in the sunlight beneath Glenbrae House’s high cantilevered ceiling. On the table in front of her, bows of red raffia twisted around wreaths of holly, and stockings of antique lace lay ready to grace the inn’s broad mantel. A fire hissed happily, casting golden light over the walls of her tiny office
Hope was well pleased with the inn she had made and well pleased with the happiness she had found in this quiet corner of Scotland.
Dozens of guests had stayed beneath Glenbrae House’s roof, but her favorites had been Nicholas Draycott and his family. Even now it was hard to believe a year had passed since their visit.
Hope frowned at the phone as static swallowed the voice on the other end of the line. “Hello? Yes, I’m here, Nicholas. And we’ll be delighted to receive your two visitors. You say they’re arriving tomorrow?”
“Probably late in the day, though I can’t be certain. There was something in his voice that made Hope wait for him to be more specific.
The viscount cleared his throat. “Two people. Will Cameron and Annie, his wife.”
Hope repeated the names, marking them in her careful hand in the registry. “Will they have special interests while they’re here? Salmon fishing or deer stalking?”
“None of that.” His voice tightened. “All they wish is a few weeks of quiet. No telephones, no curiosity. And no people asking questions.”
So that was it.
Hope felt his tension reach across the phone, and she wondered what sort of problems brought the two travelers to Glenbrae. But she had good reason to trust this man completely. “Easy enough to arrange. I’ll see that they’re put in our quietest room. As it happens, we’ve no one else here but a pair of schoolteachers from Holland.” Again the silence hung. “Is there anything else I need to know?”
“Will Cameron will tell you everything when he arrives. My regards to MacLeod. Tell him I’m counting on some excellent fishing in the spring.”
Hope smiled. “He’ll be delighted to oblige you.”
“He still has that great broadsword hanging in the hall, does he?”
“I’m looking at it now.”
“Excellent.” On that somewhat obscure comment, the viscount hung up.
Hope was standing by the sunny front window when the sword’s owner strode into her office. His broad shoulders nearly filled the doorway, and his laughter crackled warmly in the narrow room. “More guests to claim your time, is it? By all the saints, woman, I’m tempted to drag you off to the loch. There I might at least find a minute or two alone with you.”
Hope smiled as she always did when Ronan MacLeod looked at her just so, and her heart gave its customary lurch. “But you wouldn’t need to drag me, love. I’d come away with you on an instant’s notice.”
The Scotsman’s scarred hands slid into her hair, and he pulled her against him with a fire that amazed her, considering how they had spent the hours before dawn. “I love you, Hope
MacLeod. Never doubt this for an instant.”
“How could I, when you have such inventive ways of showing me?”
His hand slid lower, curved protectively below her waist. “Have you felt a stirring yet?”
“Impatient man. It will be months yet.” Abruptly Hope went still, her eyes very wide.
“What is it?” her husband demanded.
“There.” It came again, the faintest hint of movement. “He moved, Ronan. Almost as if he heard your voice.”
“Or she,” he corrected. “A heartbreaker with her mother’s smile and strange modern ways.”
Their hands linked over Hope’s softly rounded stomach. “Modern ways that suited you well enough, Crusader.”
“Aye, so they did. So they do.”
Hope let her head rest on his shoulder. Already she was sorting through practical questions of linens, silverware, and pastry. There would be flowers to pick, meals to plan. “Blast, I almost forgot about dinner tomorrow. I’ll have to tell the Wishwells we won’t be able to join them after all.”
MacLeod sniffed. “I doubt you need bother.” He thought of the three spry sisters who lived in a tiny cottage in the forest at the foot of the loch. “They’ll find out even before you want them to. That seems to be a particular gift with them.”
~ ~ ~
“Someone’s coming.”
Morwenna Wishwell bent closer to the window. She was a tiny lady, with white hair and eyes of shocking robin’s egg blue. They seemed to dart back and forth across the glen, missing nothing. She skimmed the misted window with one palm, gazing to the south. “Two of them.”
“Who’s coming?” Her sister Honoria, plump and red cheeked, rocked in a chair before the fire with a white cat sleeping in her lap.
“Someone important. I can see that.” Morwenna Wishwell stroked the silver brooch at her neck. “They are vulnerable.” Her lips lifted. “Very much in love, it seems.” Once again she smoothed the brooch. “You try, Perpetua.”
The tallest of the three, Perpetua Wishwell stared out into the gathering twilight. “I feel it also.” There was something oddly compelling in her eyes as they searched the horizon. Beyond the snug cottage an owl called sharply, echoed by the bark of a fox.
Perpetua nodded slowly. “I hear the wind which brings closings after long centuries and a finish to an old mystery. We must be honored this will take place here in our glen.” Her lips curved in the ghost of a smile. “But then we are singularly skilled for managing such things. This time we will not need Adrian’s assistance.”
Morwenna leaned forward. “He’s coming to Glenbrae?”
“Not without our summoning.”
Morwenna murmured a low phrase, and orange sparks shot in a noisy dance up the chimney.
“Do stop that, Morwenna.” Perpetua frowned. “In a moment you’ll have the cottage burned down around us.”
Morwenna shrugged. “I like to see the sparks, Pet. Besides, I’m cold. Winter’s come full well. Can’t you hear the wind howling?”
All three fell quiet, listening. Above the wind they heard another sound, low and muffled. It might have been the distant drone of a car traveling fast or it might have been angry voices carried on the gusting air.
“Coming from the south,” Perpetua said slowly. “Now, as they did long years before, while danger followed. Two of them I see. But others are soon to come.” The fire hissed up in angry sparks and Perpetua sighed. “Come then, my dears. If this danger is real, we have much work to do.”
~ ~ ~
Back and forth the road snaked, past circles of prehistoric stone, gaunt trees, and fallen gravestones. Maggie drowsed, caught in fitful dreams, then awoke to keep Jared company. He drove fast, but was forced to slow for mist or crossing sheep. Just after dawn he pulled to the road’s edge and stretched lazily, enjoying a view that had changed little for centuries.
Maggie stood beside him. “It’s beautiful.”
“So it is. I’ve forgotten how these quiet hills can stir the blood.” The sun climbed over the jagged walls of a ruined castle ad painted the loch a coppery red. Their hamper was empty, but thanks to Marston’s preparations they had eaten very well. Maggie had taken the wheel on two occasions, though she found driving on the opposite side of the road a harrowing experience.
From Jared there was never a complaint. He was calm, unflappable.
Professional.
Maggie knew now how hard-won all his calm had been. She turned, fitting her body to his. “Tired?”
“A little. But we don’t have much farther to go. Two hours or a bit less, I estimate, though the roads may be tricky as we work north.”
“In that case, I won’t offer to drive.”
“I’ll manage.” He gathered her against him. “Worrying again?”
Maggie shook her head. She wouldn’t give in to fear. Meanwhile, she was making no attempt to hide the tenderness she felt at Jared’s touch.
Not that she would have succeeded, when their hands were linked so tightly.
“I have a bone to pick with you, Commander.”
One dark brow rose. “This sounds serious.”
“Deadly. As I recall, you once mentioned small cars. Something about performance statistics.”
“You tempt me sorely. But when I have you, Maggie love, it will be in a proper bed with a roof over our heads.”
What he meant, Maggie thought bleakly, was when they were at Glenbrae. When they were safe from pursuit.
~ ~ ~
An hour later, as sunlight glinted over the hills, Jared pointed down to a slender loch and a gray stone tower house that beckoned in the distance. “I believe that’s Glenbrae House.”
The house was older than Maggie had expected, weathered walls golden in the sun. To the north, mist drifted past steep cliffs, and the air was heavy with the scent of pine trees. Maggie watched smoke plume from the high chimney
She drew a long breath, praying they would be safe here.
Jared stopped the car before a winding stone fence. “Don’t go back and forth over it, Maggie. It’s best this way. It gives Nicholas time to bargain with Whitehall, while your father does the things he must.”
“Do you believe it is really my father?”
“If anyone would know the voice, it’s you, my love. He may also be playing a deeper game than you imagine,” he warned gently.
“I’ve tried to prepare myself. I know the truth may be a shock, but I simply want the questions done.” She took Jared’s arm as he helped her from the car. “Right now I refuse to think about anything else but stripping off this ugly wig and washing off this greasepaint. I doubt that anyone will be looking for us here.” Abruptly her breath caught. “We weren’t followed, were we?”
Jared sent a last glance over the misty hills. “Not a chance. I would have noticed.”
~ ~ ~
The proprietor of Glenbrae House was waiting for them as they came up the walk. If Hope MacLeod was surprised at her visitors’ dress, she was careful not to show it. She spoke with easy friendship as she welcomed them to a cozy front room where firelight glinted off polished wood and colorful chintz.
“Lunch will be ready shortly. If you prefer to eat upstairs, that will be easily managed. You’ve had quite a drive, Mr. Cameron.”
“Nicholas gave you our names, did he?” Jared stood tensely.
“He phoned last night to confirm your arrival. He sounded somewhat anxious.”
“We were in a rush to get away.” Jared gestured at their clothing. “As for this, well, it’s rather a long story.”
“There’s no need to explain, I assure you. My husband will bring in your baggage, but why don’t I show you to your room first?” She hesitated. “Lord Draycott said you did not wish to be disturbed.”
Jared heard the question in her voice. “We’re hoping for privacy, yes.” Then with a soft oath, he turned back. “No, that’s not the entire truth. You’re entitled to know that people may be following us, and for reasons too complicat
ed to explain, we don’t wish to be found if anyone comes asking.”
“So I gathered.” Hope considered them, then nodded. “A favor asked by Lord Draycott is a difficult thing to refuse.”
“Don’t I know it,” Jared muttered.
“Put your mind at rest. If anyone attacks, my husband will simply beat them off with his broadsword.”
Jared’s eyes narrowed. “He knows how to handle a broadsword?”
“Amazingly well. Almost like a true native of the Middle Ages.” Hope’s eyes crinkled at some secret bit of humor. “Now if you’ll follow me, your rooms are just up these stairs, and everything’s ready for you. I think you’ll find the moonlight above the loch superb tonight.”
~ ~ ~
“What were they like?”
Ronan MacLeod paced before the fire, all curiosity, his dark hair windblown from his hike up the glen. To his regret, he’d been caught laying a new section of roof for the Wishwell sisters, and he’d missed meeting the new guests.
“Very nice, for all they arrived in full clown costume. They said they may be followed, Ronan. There could be danger, just as Nicholas hinted.”
“If Lord Draycott is involved, they’re to be trusted,” Ronan MacLeod said with no hint of hesitation. “No one will disturb them here, or I break my vow as a knight of St. Julian.”
Hope rested a soft finger at his lips. “No more a knight. Now you are a simple twentieth-century man, my love.”
“Not simple, I hope,” he muttered. “Were I that, you’d be bored inside a day.”
Hope’s head tilted “One thing you will never be is boring, my heart.” Her eyes narrowed. “Nicholas Draycott wanted to be sure that you still had your broadsword in the hall.”
“A mystery,” her husband said slowly, more curious than ever to see the new arrivals.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Maggie awoke locked in Jared’s arms. The soft whoosh of falling snow brought her fully awake. She tilted her head, peering through the frosted glass pane. Through the white haze she saw a pristine world where snow blanketed the glen.
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