by Multiple
Her self-depreciating humor almost did him in, but he steeled his conviction. “And you don’t want notoriety? I find that hard to believe.”
She laughed. “No. I’ll be brutally honest with you. I have spent most of my life under a microscope. Thanks to my IQ, I have been the subject of many studies throughout my life. Many weren’t pleasant experiences. Between that and starting college in the middle of puberty, I’ve had my share of notoriety.”
There was something there beneath the pleasant speech, something like pain. Nothing in her expression showed what she was feeling as she continued smiling at him, but he sensed it. Something in her past was hurting her, and the need to be the one to soothe the ache surprised and irritated him.
“Why?”
She cocked her head to the side. The interest was back and directed at him. “Why don’t I want notoriety? I thought I explained that.”
He shook his head. “Why do you want to do it then? Why do you research Celtic legends?”
She relaxed back into the chair, her gaze turning contemplative. “From the moment I was born, my parents had my life planned. Everything has been their choice.” She drew in a deep breath and returned her attention to him. “Don’t get me wrong, Mr. Lennon. I’ve had a charmed life. There are things I have seen and done that people only dream about. I owe my parents a debt of gratitude for it. But Celtic mythology and legends are my own little addiction. Something I love to do. I’m lucky enough to be able to indulge in it when I want, again, thanks to my parents.”
He nodded as he took a sip of wine. When he said nothing, she continued.
“So, when you ask me about why, I can only tell you because it is the one non-scheduled activity I can indulge in. I share it with no one. Not my parents, not even my husband when he was alive. It is the one extravagance I’ve allowed myself. When an opportunity like this arises, I jump on it if possible. With my schedule for the next year and a half, my little addiction is going to be hard to squeeze in, so that’s why I came all this way now.”
Callum didn’t want to believe her, but he did. Responsibility had been riding his back for more years than he could remember, so he understood her need. People depending on you could weigh you down, even if you loved them. It could get damned hard to remember that you were an individual, and he sensed she’d struggled with that for most of her life.
Apparently worried she hadn’t swayed him, she said, “Truthfully, with your money and resources, you could make sure anything I tell the press doesn’t make the light of day. And I’m sure you know with one word from you, my reputation would be destroyed. It is the one thing I do not play lightly with.”
After that, she waited. Again, he didn’t want to be swayed by her arguments, but they made sense. She had no idea what she was talking about because she didn’t know exactly what she was getting into, but he could destroy her, her reputation, and her parents on a whim if he wished it. Granted, if the information made the rags they would be scrutinized, perhaps even considered freaks, if anyone believed the truth. He had fought most of his life to keep their secret safe. He would destroy anyone who threatened their safe haven. But clearly she understood what such rash actions could cost her.
He knew that all the other cousins had conceded to let her look at it without a contract. Callum wasn’t comfortable enough with it.
“A confidentiality agreement then?”
She nodded. “After I see the diary.”
Bloody hell, the woman wouldn’t give over, not even a centimeter.
“And you give me your word you aren’t working for a paper?”
She laughed then, a real one that sent lust curling in his belly, rolling through his veins. “No. In fact, there is one particular reporter for The Mirror who has a non-harassment order against me. The press and I are not the best of friends.”
“You physically threatened a reporter?”
“No. I punched him.” She waited a beat. “Then I threatened to castrate him if I ever saw him again.”
He couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped. It was hard to believe this woman would be able to hurt anyone, especially a grown man. Her head barely reached his shoulders. “Was there a reason?”
“My late husband was actually a very distant relation of Prince Phillip. When Simon was sick, there were a few people who thought to make a story of it and his…our personal life. I thought otherwise. I protect what is mine.”
He was momentarily distracted by the mention of her late husband. It nettled that he wanted to know more about the man, what their marriage had been like. Why would he give a damn about that?
He mentally steered himself away from that subject and back to their discussion. Her expression and voice held a conviction he admired. He understood what it took to hold onto that conviction through troubled times. The strength of her character showed by her actions. He knew at that moment he was going to cave to her wishes. There really was no other choice. They had no one else they could turn to, but he knew there would have to be some kind of agreement.
“If I agree to this—without requiring a contract—there are some rules I will not bend on.”
She nodded and waited. Smart lass—too smart.
“Only you will review the book and only in my office. It is a rare find, and I will not have it misplaced.” She opened her mouth to argue, probably trying to defend herself, but he didn’t have the time or patience. “First, you need to understand that I don’t often work without written agreement other than for payment. Also, I am not only talking of you, but of others. The book is worth a lot of money—one reason we haven’t told the staff about it. Anyone with a brain might think to take it.”
When she smiled at him, a full smile with dimples and teeth, he knew she would agree. She thought she’d won. Which, he conceded, she had. But he would do everything to make sure it was on his terms.
“You will not have possession of the book unless I am present. You are only allowed a minimal amount of notes when you leave, and I will review all of those.”
Phoebe nodded. “Agreed. Can I see it?”
Her eagerness made him uneasy. Why would she agree so quickly and without haggling?
“Don’t you think it is a little late to start?” He glanced at his watch. “I assumed you would like a night’s rest before you start.”
She sighed again, the sound as arousing as it was irritating. “Okay, I’ll wait.”
He could tell she wasn’t happy. Callum didn’t care. He needed a break from her presence before he made a bigger ass out of himself.
“Breakfast is usually served at six sharp. I’ll meet you here.” He glanced at her plate and noticed she had finished her meal, the napkin lying over the china. He buzzed for Belvidore, who arrived immediately. Knowing his distrust of anyone not in the Lennon family, the butler was probably waiting by the door.
“Please show Dr. Chilton to her room.”
Amazingly, she didn’t argue with him. She stood, her smile telling him she was satisfied. “Thank you. Mr. Lennon.”
After the door shut behind them, Callum leaned back in his chair and growled. What the hell was wrong with him? Not only did he give in on an issue, which he never allowed, he now had condemned himself to her presence. All day, every day, until she left.
Damn. He’d be barmy by the time she finished.
Not that he had to be physically in the office, and there were times he would have to be gone. Perhaps Angus could watch over her. As quickly as he thought of it, Callum dismissed that notion unless completely necessary. He couldn’t allow any of the others to spend too much time with her. She might start digging into their past too much, and Angus tended to have a loose tongue, especially around women. Anice would be a poor choice because she would probably spill all their secrets over chocolate.
Logan and Fletcher were both completely unacceptable. Known seducers, caging them in a room with a woman as pretty as Phoebe… He shook his head. No. That he could
not allow. Their existence, such as it was, depended on the façade he’d created several years ago. One crack and they would be doomed to live in this hell for eternity.
Which meant he was stuck working with a woman he wanted beneath him, above him—hell, he would take her every way possible, and he was certain it wouldn’t be enough. He scrubbed his hand over his face and prayed for patience. He was going to need it.
* * * *
Phoebe breezed into the dining room behind Belvidore and smiled at Callum. He noted her presence with a nod and a frown. Did the man ever smile?
Callum stood, always the proper Scot. “Good morning, Dr. Chilton. I’d like you to meet my cousin, Logan Lennon.”
It was then she noticed the man standing next to Callum. Amazing, she hadn’t even known another person was in the room. She had to be going mental to miss this one. Almost as tall as his older cousin—although all four men appeared to be about the same age—the last male cousin was gorgeous, just like the other three. His hair was a darker blond than Angus’s, curling over his ears and the collar of his shirt telling her he was late for a trim.
She smiled at him, and he responded in kind. Oh, what a delicious smile. While there was a strong resemblance amongst all the Lennon men, there was definitely something different about each of them. This one could hold his own in the looks department, but there was something almost…poetic about him. Logan’s green eyes had a spot of blue, adding a dreamy quality to them. He completed the look with a goatee.
“Good morning, Dr. Chilton,” Logan said.
“Good morning, but please call me Phoebe.”
He nodded and said nothing else as she took her seat—the same one as the night before. Once she was settled, both cousins followed suit.
“What would madam like this morning?” Belivore asked, disdain dripping from every word. Usually she would get mad, but his attitude made her want to laugh.
“Just a spot of tea with lemon and toast with butter, please.”
He brought her the tea then left to retrieve her toast. Callum pushed the plate of lemons toward her.
“Thank you.”
He grunted in response and picked up the paper he’d been reading when she entered.
“I was surprised to see you so early,” Logan said as he drank his tea. “I thought you might sleep in a bit after all your traveling yesterday.”
Even in his movements there was something, well, so…artistic about him. Which made sense because she had read he oversaw the art department and created all the ads for Lennon Enterprises. He dressed casually compared to his cousin—who was wearing his normal “Lord of the Dead” black business suit. Logan wore a loose fitting white shirt, no tie, and casual chinos.
“Mr. Lennon said I should be here at six in the morning.”
Logan glanced at his cousin, humor lighting his eyes. “Really?”
“No problem. I believe in a strict schedule. Otherwise, chaos reigns.”
“Chaos can be interesting.”
She laughed. “Spoken like a true artist.”
Callum shook his newspaper, but said nothing. He didn’t even look in their direction. She figured he was annoyed with the conversation, but if he didn’t like it, he shouldn’t have ordered her to breakfast. She almost always played by the rules—especially when it benefitted her. And irritating Callum Lennon was a definite benefit.
He was frowning—again. Not that she expected anything else. Although, it did bring out the minx in her. She wanted to muss the top of his head, slipping her fingers through his hair, but she knew better. If she ever indulged in touching him, she would embarrass herself and do more than just touch. She’d have to know how he tasted.
Oh, lord. What the hell was she thinking? She needed to keep her mind on that diary and away from her adversary. Lusting after him would make it harder to go after the grant. It had to be because of the dreams. She’d not slept well. Dreams of whipped cream and Callum Lennon had disturbed her rest. And even as she told herself that Callum Lennon was off-limits, her gaze drifted back to him. Something about that stoic Scot expression made her want to see him smile. She was positive a true smile from him would turn her into jelly.
With a sigh, she took a sip of her tea and turned her attention back to Logan. He was frowning also, not in irritation, but contemplation. His gaze shifted to Callum, then back to her. Oh, bother. She needed to change the subject and fast.
* * * *
A half hour later, she settled in front of a spare wooden desk that Callum had placed in his office. The male assistant kept asking her if she needed anything to the point of being a nuisance, but she couldn’t fault him. Apparently, Callum could.
“That will be enough, Gregory.”
The young man blushed to his hairline, bowed his head in her direction, and left them. She swiveled in her chair and said, “You needn’t be so harsh with him.”
“He would have hovered all morning if I hadn’t put an end to it.” His disgust made her chuckle. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”
“In dealing with young men, you need to show a little more patience.”
He shot her a look out of the corner of his eye as he walked across the room. “You have a lot of experience with young men?”
“Research assistants. They tend to blush easily and hang on your every word.”
“I don’t have the time to accommodate blushing young men. I’ll be right with you.” He stepped through a door which she assumed was the loo, but a moment later he returned with a security box. Unless he kept a safe next to the toilet, she assumed it was a storage room of some sort.
“Gregory knows nothing about this. As I said last night, neither does the rest of the staff. Remember, you are researching something valuable to my family. I want to make sure that no one knows anything outside of this room—save my cousins.”
She nodded in understanding and fought down the guilt. She was being devious, something she had never done in her career, but she knew there would be some way to protect the family. There had to be some way to keep their name out of the press.
He unlocked the box, pulled up the top, and produced a small, brown leather book. It looked ordinary by most standards, weathered by time, but commonplace all the same. He handed it to her. The moment she held it, a tremor went through her. The reaction was nothing new for her. At the start of a new project or find, she found herself behaving like this. But the feeling was sharper this time, almost painful.
“It was found in an abandoned home near Inverness. The family is rumored to have been witches. As far as I can tell, there are no descendants.”
That bit of information had her excitement surging as she opened the book. The pages were yellowed from time, the words faded, some smudged. He was right about the code as she immediately picked up on Old English, Latin, and possibly Old French on the first page. The date read seventeen ninety-five.
“It’s in surprisingly good condition if the date is correct.”
Callum nodded. “I did have a lab test it. I’ve a feeling the family kept it well hidden and safe for years considering the dates span a couple of hundred years.”
“Is there something in particular I should be looking for?”
“Come again?” he asked, a hint of wariness in his voice.
It was odd. Well, the whole situation was odd in that there were so many restrictions. She understood it to an extent, but she sensed there was something else, something more he was hiding.
What was she thinking? Of course he was. But what was the question. Just why did he need all the security? It went beyond the normal procedures. What she needed was more information to root out his secrets.
“Is there something in particular I should be searching for? Something you want to know?”
“Truthfully, we couldn’t make anything out of it. We could only translate parts of it, and what little we did decipher made no sense. Angus thought your background in Egypt—espec
ially pertaining to hieroglyphs—would be beneficial. Combining your expertise with dead languages, the code breaking skills would work well.”
She nodded as she carefully turned the pages and studied the text. Of course a family of witches would be secretive. Their kind had been hunted for centuries, blamed for everything from boils to plagues. This had been the only way to keep a record of their family and not be killed.
There were at least three other dead languages, and none of it made much sense together. She knew she would have her work cut out for her.
“I’ve got some work to do, so I will leave you to it.”
He gestured to her desk, and while she knew she needed to work, she felt a pang of loss. With another nod, she got down to work.
* * * *
After returning to her room late that afternoon, Phoebe slid off her pumps and moaned with relief. She’d give anything to have a good pair of boots and some thick socks on her feet. Her arch was throbbing, and she sat down to massage it, closing her eyes as some of the pain diminished. She hated when she had to dress in what she termed her “professional office outfit.” Not one of the suits she’d bought in the past few years had fit. They were always too long, too bulky, too blah.
Her mother—now there was a woman who could wear a suit. Every one she wore looked made for her, but her mother had one of those slim bodies that looked good in anything. With another sigh, one filled with self-pity, she stripped off her suit and her hose. After she rummaged through her dresser, she found her favorite thermals and slipped them on.
All she wanted to do was curl up in bed and relax, but she knew she had work to do. Callum hadn’t allowed her a lot of notes, but she did have a few words to look up. She glanced at her mobile. McWalton would expect her to contact him. And she had told him she would if she thought she had something for the grant.
Excitement surged. Even as weary as she was, Phoebe gained another jolt from the thrill. A new project. One that could prove career-making. She knew she would never measure up to her parents or their love of ancient civilizations. But this could prove that her years spent studying Celtic folklore hadn’t been in vain.
