Countdown

by Iris Johansen

  “Are you still angry with the laird?” he asked, his frown deepening.

  “No.” Even that scowl couldn’t spoil the fascination of that face. It only gave it more character, more layers. “I’m not angry at anyone. I don’t really know MacDuff.”

  “You were angry when you came. I saw it. You made him unhappy.”

  “He didn’t make me overjoyed.” He still had that troubled frown and she could see she wasn’t getting through to him. “It was a misunderstanding. Do you know what I mean?”

  “Of course. But sometimes people don’t tell the truth.” His gaze shifted to the sketchbook. “You’re drawing something. I saw you. What?”

  “The battlements.” She made a face as she turned the sketch around so that he could see it. “But I’m not doing it very well. I don’t really like drawing structures. I’d rather sketch people.”

  “Why?”

  She shrugged. “Because it’s life. Faces change and age and become something different from minute to minute, year to year.”

  He nodded. “Like flowers.”

  She smiled. “Some of the faces I’ve drawn haven’t been in the least flowerlike. But, yes, it’s the same idea. Do you like flowers?”

  “Yes.” He paused. “I have a new plant, a gardenia. I was going to give it to my mother in the spring, but I could give her a picture of it now, couldn’t I?”

  “She’d probably rather have the flower.”

  “But it might die.” His expression became shadowed. “I might die. Sometimes things die.”

  “You’re young,” she said gently. “Usually, the young don’t die, Jock.” But Mike had died, and he had been as young as this beautiful boy. She said impulsively, “But I could draw your flower now and you could still give the real plant to your mother later.”

  His expression lit with eagerness. “Would you? When could you do it?”

  She glanced at her watch. “Now. I have time. It won’t take long. Where is it?”

  “In my garden.” He stepped aside and gestured inside the stable. “Come on. I’ll show you where—” His smile disappeared. “But I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “I promised the laird I wouldn’t go near you.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake.” She remembered Bartlett’s and Trevor’s words about not letting the boy bother her. They’d evidently gone ahead and talked to MacDuff in spite of her protest that the idea of the kid accosting her didn’t worry her. Now that she’d met him she was definitely feeling defensive. “It’s all right, Jock.”

  He shook his head. “I promised him.” He thought about it. “But if I go ahead and you follow me I won’t really be near you, will I?”

  She smiled. He might be childlike, but he wasn’t as slow as Bartlett thought. “By all means, keep your distance, Jock.” She crossed the courtyard to the stable. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  Why are all the stalls empty?” Jane called ahead as she followed Jock through the stable. “MacDuff has no horses?”

  He shook his head. “He sold them. He doesn’t come here very often anymore.” He had reached the door at the back of the stable. “This is my garden.” He threw open the door. “It’s only potted plants, but the laird says I can plant them outside in the earth later.”

  She followed him out into the sunlight. Flowers. The tiny cobblestone area resembled a patio, but there was barely room to walk for the vases and pots overflowing with blossoms of every description. A glass roof overhead made it into a perfect greenhouse. “Why not now?”

  “He’s not sure where we’ll be. He said it’s important to take care of flowers.” He pointed to a terra-cotta pot. “This is my gardenia.”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  He nodded. “And it will live when the winter winds blow.”

  “That’s beautiful too.” She opened her sketchbook. “Is the gardenia your favorite flower?”

  “No, I like all of them.” He frowned. “Except lilacs. I don’t like lilacs.”

  “Why not? They’re very lovely and I’d think they’d grow well here.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t like them.”

  “I do. We have lots of them at home.” She began to sketch. “The blossoms of your gardenia are drooping a little. Could you tie up the branches until I finish?”

  He nodded, reached in his pocket, and drew out a leather cord. A moment later the gardenia was upright in the pot. “Is that what you want?”

  She nodded absently as her pencil raced over the pad. “That’s fine. . . . You can sit down on that stool at the potting table, if you like. It will be a little while before I finish.”

  He shook his head as he moved to the far edge of the patio. “Too near. I promised the laird.” His gaze went to the cord around the gardenia. “But he knows I really don’t have to be near. There are so many ways . . .”

  What the hell are you doing here?”

  Jane glanced over her shoulder to see MacDuff standing in the doorway. “What does it look like?” She turned back and made the last few strokes on the sketch. She tore it off her pad and held it out to Jock. “Here it is. It’s the best I can do. I told you I did faces better.”

  Jock stood still, not moving, his gaze on MacDuff. “I’m not near her. I didn’t break my promise.”

  “Yes, you did. You knew what I meant.” He took the sketch from Jane and thrust it at the boy. “I’m not pleased, Jock.”

  The boy appeared totally crushed and Jane felt a surge of anger. “Oh, for Pete’s sake. I could hit you. Stop it. I offered to make the sketch. He didn’t do anything.”

  “Oh, shit.” MacDuff’s gaze was on Jock’s face. “Shut up and get the hell out of here.”

  “I will not.” She went to the gardenia and carefully untied it. “Not until you tell him you’re sorry for being a complete ass.” She crossed to Jock and handed him the cord. “I don’t need this anymore. I hope your mother likes the sketch.”

  He was silent, looking down at the cord in his hand. “You’re going to hurt him?”

  “MacDuff? I feel like throttling him.” She heard MacDuff mutter something beside her. “He shouldn’t treat you like that, and if you had sense you’d take a punch at him.”

  “I couldn’t do that.” He stared down at the sketch for a long moment and then slowly put the cord in his pocket. “And you mustn’t do it either. I have to keep anyone from hurting him.” He glanced at the sketch again and a slow smile lit his face. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” She smiled back at him. “If you really want to thank me, you could do me a favor. I’d like to sketch you. I promise it will turn out much better than your gardenia.”

  Jock looked uncertainly at MacDuff.

  He hesitated and then slowly nodded. “Go ahead. As long as I’m present, Jock.”

  “I don’t want you, MacDuff.” She saw Jock begin to frown again and sighed with resignation. There wasn’t any use in making the boy fret. The laird seemed to have him firmly under his thumb. “Okay. Okay.” She turned and headed for the door. It was time she got back to Cira and Julius and away from this beautiful boy and the man who seemed to control his every move. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Jock.”

  “Wait.” MacDuff was following her down the row of stalls toward the courtyard entrance. “I want to talk to you.”

  “I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t like the way you treat that boy. If he has problems, he should have help, not coercion.”

  “I am helping him.” He paused. “But you might be able to help him too. He didn’t react the way I thought he would back there. It could be . . . healthy.”

  “To be treated like a human being and not a robot? I’d say that’s healthy.”

  He ignored her sarcasm. “The rules are the same for you as for him. I’m with you when you’re sketching Jock. No exceptions.”

  “Anything else?”

  “If you tell Trevor, he won’t let you do it. He’ll think Jock will hurt you. He knows he isn’t stable
.” He met her gaze. “It’s true. He could hurt you.”

  “He couldn’t have been more gentle to me.”

  “Believe me, all it would take is a trigger.”

  She gazed at him, going over the scene that had just taken place. “And you’re the trigger. He’s very protective of you. You should try to talk him out of—”

  “Do you think I haven’t?” he said roughly. “He won’t listen.”

  “Why not? You don’t appear to be in need of protection.”

  “I did him a favor and he feels obligated. I’m hoping it will gradually fade away.”

  She shook her head as she remembered Jock’s expression when MacDuff had told him he was displeased with him. Total devotion. Total dependence. “If you wait for that to happen, it may take a long time.”

  “Then it will take a long time,” he said harshly. “I’m not stuffing him behind bars and having him prodded and poked by a bunch of doctors who care not a whit about him. I take care of my own.”

  “Bartlett said he was from the village, and Jock mentioned his mother. Does he have any other family?”

  “Two younger brothers.”

  “And his family won’t help him?”

  “He won’t let them.” He added impatiently, “I’m not asking that much. I’ll keep you safe. Just be with him, talk to him. You said yourself you wanted to draw him. Have you changed your mind because there may be a risk? Yes or no?”

  She had enough on her plate right now without helping that beautiful boy. Yes, she wanted to draw him, but she didn’t need another complication. She found it hard to believe that he was as unstable and dangerous as MacDuff claimed, but there was no doubt that it must have some substance if MacDuff felt it necessary to warn her. “Why me?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. He saw Trevor’s statue of Cira and asked me questions about what Trevor was doing here. He’s very visual, so I dug up the story on the Internet about Cira and you figured prominently in it.”

  Cira again. “And he believes I’m Cira?”

  “No, he’s not stupid. He just has problems.” He amended, “Well, maybe sometimes he get confused.”

  And MacDuff was obviously as protective and defensive about Jock as the boy was about him. For the first time she felt a surge of sympathy and understanding for MacDuff. It wasn’t only duty that was driving the laird to take care of the boy. “You like him.”

  “I watched him grow up. His mother was head housekeeper and he was in and out of the castle from the time he was a lad. He wasn’t always like this. He was bright and happy and—” He broke off. “Yes, I like Jock. Will you do it or not?”

  She slowly nodded. “I’ll do it. But I don’t know how long I’ll be here.” She grimaced. “You obviously don’t appreciate me being here.”

  “The situation is already too complicated.” He added gravely, “But it’s good that you’re going to be of use to me.”

  She looked at him in amazement. “I’m not one of your damn ‘people’ and I won’t be used by—” He was smiling and she realized that he was joking. “Good Lord, do I detect a sense of humor?”

  “Don’t tell Trevor. One mustn’t lower one’s guard. Are you going to tell him you’re going to draw Jock?”

  “If I feel like it.” But she knew what he meant. She’d been on guard with Trevor since he’d come back into her life. “But it doesn’t concern him.”

  “He won’t agree. He wouldn’t have brought you here if you didn’t concern him.” He opened the stable door for her. “If you’re not here tomorrow, I’ll understand.”

  The bastard was saying the one thing that would firm her determination to come. He was almost as much a manipulator as Trevor, she thought in amusement. Why wasn’t she irritated, as she would have been with Trevor? “I’ll be here at nine A.M.”

  “I’m . . . grateful.” He met her gaze. “And I repay my debts.”

  “Fine.” She started across the courtyard. “It’s good that I can make use of you, MacDuff.”

  She heard a surprised chuckle behind her but she didn’t look back. She was probably making a mistake becoming involved with Jock Gavin. He wasn’t her concern. No sketch was worth the risk MacDuff had warned her about.

  To hell with it. Orphans and lame ducks seemed to be her downfall. She’d never been able to walk away just because the going got tough. It wasn’t her nature. If it was a mistake, then it was her mistake and she’d live with it.

  Had that been Cira’s attitude when she’d taken the boy, Leo, into her home?

  Jock Gavin wasn’t Leo and she wasn’t Cira. So stop making comparisons and get back to Mario and see if she could nudge him into speeding up the work on Cira’s scrolls.

  Bartlett was standing in the hall when she came in the front door, his expression concerned. “I saw you go into the stable with the boy. You were there a long time. Is everything all right?”

  “No problem. He’s very sweet.” She gestured to the sketchbook she carried. “I was just doing a little work.”

  He shook his head reproachfully. “You shouldn’t have gone into the stable. Trevor’s put it off-limits to all of us. That’s MacDuff’s territory.”

  “MacDuff didn’t kick me out, so I guess it was okay with him.” She started up the stairs. “I’ve got to get back to Mario. I’ll see you later.” As she reached the landing, she glanced back and saw him still staring after her with a troubled expression. She said gently, “It’s okay, Bartlett. Stop worrying.”

  He forced a smile and nodded. “I’ll work on it.” He turned away. “It used to be easier. The older I get, the more aware I become of how many things there are to worry about in this world. You wouldn’t know about that. The young always think they’re immortal.”

  “You’re wrong. I never thought I was immortal even when I was a kid. I knew you had to fight to stay alive.” She continued up the stairs. “But I’m not about to spoil even one minute of it fretting unless I decide there’s cause.”

  May I come in, Trevor?” MacDuff asked after he opened the library door. He nodded at Bartlett, who was standing beside the desk. “I thought you’d come running here after I saw you outside in the courtyard looking at the stable as if it were a windmill and you were Don Quixote.” He dropped down in the visitor’s chair and smiled at Trevor. “I decided to save you the trouble of seeking me out. You’re such a busy man.”

  “You said you’d keep him away from her,” Trevor said coldly. “Get him the hell out of here.”

  His smile faded. “Jock’s home is with me. Such as it is.”

  “I believe I’ll leave you to your discussion.” Bartlett moved toward the door. “But I never tilt at windmills, MacDuff. Though I do believe Don Quixote’s nobility overshadowed his foolishness.”

  As the door closed behind Bartlett, Trevor repeated, “Get Jock the hell away from here. Or I’ll do it myself.”

  MacDuff shook his head. “No, you won’t. You need me. If he goes, I go.”

  “Don’t try to bluff me.” His gaze was narrowed on MacDuff’s face. “You may not even be able to help me. If Mario comes through, I may be able to find the gold myself. How the hell do I know you have any valid lead at all? Maybe it’s a con.”

  “Give me what I want and see.”

  “Bloodthirsty bastard.”

  “Ah, yes. That I am. But you should have realized that when you saw everything I was willing to give up to get my chance.” He leaned back in the chair and his gaze wandered around the library. “It’s strange sitting in this visitor’s chair when I always sat where you are. Life takes odd turns, doesn’t it?”

  “You’re changing the subject.”

  “Just a wee detour.” His gaze shifted back to Trevor. “I did tell him not to go near her, but it didn’t work out. It won’t happen again.”

  “He’ll stay away from her?”

  “No, but I’ll always be with them.” He held up his hand as Trevor started to curse. “She wants to sketch him. I warned her about him. I’m not su
re she believed me, but that won’t matter as long as I’m there to intercede.”

  “It’s not going to happen.”

  “Then talk to her, tell her not to do it.” He tilted his head. “If you think it will do any good.”

  “You son of a bitch.”

  “Actually, my mother was a quintessential bitch, so I’ll not take offense at that remark.” He got to his feet. “I’ll make sure Jane sketches him in the courtyard so that you can have someone you trust keep watch on them. I’m quite aware that wouldn’t be me.” He shook his head as he gazed around the library again. “Strange . . .”

  “I hope it sticks in your throat to see me here,” Trevor said through his teeth.

  MacDuff shook his head. “No, this place doesn’t define who I am. Do I love it? With every breath. But I don’t have to be here. I carry it with me.” He smiled. “You look very good in that chair, Trevor. Quite the laird. Enjoy.” His smile faded as he turned and headed for the door. “If you choose not to interfere, I’ll be grateful. It’s the first time since I found him that he’s responded positively to anyone but me. I believe she’s good for him. That’s the bottom line for me.”

  “I won’t trade—”

  But MacDuff had already left the library.

  Trevor drew a deep breath and tried to smother the frustration that was tearing through him. He did need MacDuff, dammit. He’d begun thinking of the laird as a long shot, but the more he found out about MacDuff’s visits to Herculaneum, the more Trevor was beginning to believe he might be the answer.

  Was MacDuff bluffing? Maybe, but Trevor couldn’t risk it. Okay, so consider the situation calmly. MacDuff wouldn’t want anything to happen to Jane. It wasn’t in his best interests. He’d promised to be on-site during any encounter, and Trevor trusted him to keep his word. Not that he wouldn’t have Brenner on hand to keep an eye on Jock.

  Hell, the entire situation could be resolved if he could go to Jane and tell her that those damn sketching sessions were unacceptable. But that wasn’t an option.