Eyes of the Cat (6 page)

“Why, Miss Jeffries”—he cast baleful gray eyes upon her—“is that any way to speak to a friend? I thought you just said you couldn’t be angry with me.”

“I wasn’t talking to
you
, Mr. Elliott. I didn’t even know you were there. I was talking to the cat.”

“Hmm…the cat again. I see.” He gave her a look that made her feel he was measuring her for a straightjacket.

She stifled a groan. “Oh, don’t tell me you didn’t notice him this time either.”

“Afraid not.” The gray eyes narrowed to smoky slits—then he shrugged the matter aside. “Say, as long as you’re up, would you care to see some
magic
?”

“Only if it involves pulling supper out of a hat. I’m famished.”

Simon chuckled and offered her his arm. “I’m sure I can materialize something for you. And then, perhaps, we’ll have a
Light Show
.”

“More electric lanterns?” She glanced up at him, mildly interested.

“Mmm…sort of. But these two are a bit larger.”

* * *

A
bit
? Good heavens…

Tabitha stood frozen, awestruck by the scene. These were the largest generators she’d ever seen, more than double the height of her escort, who was a tall man. Two thick metal cylinders on wooden bases, capped by giant spheres that were shooting out lightning bolts like a July Fourth fireworks display.

“What feeds them?” She had to shout to make herself heard over the ferocious crackling.

Simon didn’t bother to shout back, but took her hand and led her to one of the narrow windows of the tower they were in. He pointed to the stormy night sky, punctuated with slashes and flashes of brilliance.

“Lightning?” she mouthed at him.

He nodded, his attractive face looking inordinately pleased over her interest. She started to shout something else, but he gestured for her to wait, then strode over to a small control box and flipped a lever.

“That’s better.” He turned back to her. “The storm outside is loud enough without having to deal with one in here, too.”

“How on earth do you harvest it?” Tabitha glanced from the window to the now quiet behemoths.

“The raw power, you mean? That’s the easy part. We’ve secured a lightning rod to the roof of this tower, with wires leading down from it to Jack and Jill here. When lightning strikes it, the electricity runs down the wire and into the generators. Until we let it out, of course.”

Hmm…yes, that’s the next question, isn’t it?

She studied him from beneath lowered lashes. What could he be working on that required such tremendous voltage?

“What are you going to use them for?” she asked. Casually.

“We haven’t decided.” Equally casual, he crossed his arms over his chest, leaned back against a wall, and leveled one of his slow grins on her. “But I imagine we’ll come up with something. Eventually.”

She met his grin with a small, knowing one of her own. “I didn’t think you’d tell me.”

Simon went all wounded. “Oh, come on, Miss Jeffries, be fair. You know how it is. Did your aunt spill her beans when she was cooking something big?”

“Never.” Tabitha laughed. “And she was
always
working on something big. There were no small projects as far as Aunt Matilda was concerned. She used to say that the largest breakthroughs often grew from the tiniest seeds of discovery.”

“Yes, and one should never discount anything, regardless of how insignificant it might first appear,” Simon quoted back to her.

Tabitha lowered her gaze, washed by a wave of bittersweet memories. Marvelous Aunt Matilda, so prim and proper, yet so independent. Too independent, some had said. Women weren’t supposed to be inventors, but Dr. Matilda Jeffries had been one of the best. An incongruous straight-laced rebel whose genius had been surpassed only by her generous nature. No matter how busy she’d been with her own work, she’d never turned away anyone who came to her for instruction or advice. The thought gave Tabitha a twinge of guilt.

Her eyes met Simon’s again. “I…I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you before, Mr. Elliott. But so many science students visited my aunt, I never could keep track of them all.”

“Well, you could hardly be expected to.” He smiled. “Anyway, I was only there once, and you couldn’t have been more than seven or eight at the time.”

“I was nine—but only just. It was my birthday. That’s why I should have remembered you,” she said, unable to suppress a smile of her own. “When you found out, you jumped the fence into our neighbors’ yard and stole an armful of their prize roses for me.”

He began chuckling. “Yes, I recall that now. ‘Beautiful blossoms for a beautiful little lady,’ I said to you.” The chuckling stopped. “And you got
angry
. It quite startled me. Still does, in fact.” A smoky-eyed gaze drifted over her. “Why don’t you like being thought of as a beauty, Miss Jeffries?”

Tabitha felt the burn of a blush and realized she must be turning as pink as the long ago filched flowers.

Cough.

“Because I’d rather be appreciated for the
contents
of my head than what’s on the outside of it. Men think pretty girls are merely decorations to wear on their arms. They never take them seriously or consider them capable of accomplishing anything worthwhile.”

Simon pulled away from the wall and came toward her with an easy, confident gait. “Well then, let me assure you, Miss Jeffries, that I do appreciate your contents,” he drawled, halting only inches from her and grinning down. “But I hope you’ll forgive me if I can’t help admiring your
packaging
as well. That gown does suit you, you know.”

“Aye. ’Tis good to see how well it suits you, considering the money I had to pay for those frocks,” sounded a low growl from behind them, wiping Simon’s grin off his face and sending him backward an unrepentant pace.

“You can’t blame a fellow for trying,” he murmured to no one in particular.

Tabitha’s blush heated. She whirled toward the tower’s doorway—and nearly choked on her own surprise. Who was this person? She recognized that impossibly handsome face, but the rest of him had undergone a remarkable transition. Remarkably disconcerting.

I think I liked him better as a Comanche.

Bare-chested, in leggings, breechclout and moccasins, he had seemed merely savage. In the civilized dress of a western gentleman, he looked… She groped for the right term… Sinister! That was it.

The golden brown leather vest accentuated the golden glitter in his eyes. The crisp white linen shirt accentuated the breadth of his muscular shoulders and chest. And what those form fitting black trousers accentuated, she didn’t even want to think about.

Drat the man. Why couldn’t he wear a nice, modestly pleated kilt like his clansmen?

She felt herself turning from hot pink to angry red. “My, my, if it isn’t
Big Chief Thief-in-the-Night
. I want my own clothes back, Chief. You had no right to steal them from me.”

Those glittering eyes scarcely blinked. “As the laird of this castle, and your soon-to-be
personal laird
, dear, I’d every right.” Alan stared implacably back at her. “And I didn’t much care for the cut of your clothes.”

“Fine. Then I won’t ask
you
to wear them. I, however, do care for them. And, laird or not, you’ve no authority over
me
. I’m not a MacAllister. I will never
be
a MacAllister. And I want my things back this instant! If you don’t return them, I’ll tear this…this
adobe absurdity
apart brick by brick until I find them! Do you hear me?”

“They can probably hear you in Abilene.” Alan’s gaze slanted sideways, as though something on the doorframe had caught his attention. “
Ahem
”—he cleared his throat—“I can’t give them back. They’ve been burnt.”

They’d been…

“
What
?” Now she felt positively purple. “Why you miserable, egotistical,
insufferable—
”

“Simon! How can I be expected to concentrate with all this caterwauling? What the devil is going on out h— Good Lord, don’t tell me
this
is the new Tabby everyone has been whispering about? I wouldn’t have guessed it if you gave me a million years to try. Tabitha Tilda, you astound me!”

That makes two of us.

It couldn’t be…

Here?

On legs suddenly become limp dishrags, Tabitha turned. A tall, dignified man with graying hair and penetrating green eyes was hurrying toward her from the tower’s inner door on the other side of the generators.

“Dr. Earnshaw!” she cried, and flung herself into his outstretched arms.

“Oh. You two know each other, do you?” Simon said with a bit of surprise.

“
Tilda
?” Alan said with a lot.

“There, there, no need for tears,” the older man kept repeating, his own eyes suspiciously moist, as Tabitha clung to him. “Stand back, child. Let me have a good look at you… My goodness, can one year make such a difference?” He held her at arm’s length. “Why, you look absolutely charming!” His mouth twisted into a wry grin. “Though Matilda would hardly have approved of this gown, you know.”

“Believe me, I know. I’m not overly fond of it, myself.” Tabitha laughed through her tears, suddenly understanding how a person could cry from pure simple joy and relief. Zachary Earnshaw was the classic absentminded professor, but he had also been her aunt’s most trusted associate. Surely he could help her out of this dilemma.

“What are you doing here? I tried to find you after the funeral, but no one seemed to know where you’d disappeared to.” She couldn’t take her eyes off from him. He looked like landfall after a long, treacherous trip at sea. “Oh, Dr. Earnshaw, you have no idea how glad I am to see you!”

“The feeling is mutual, child. My goodness, but you’ve become the image of Matilda.” Zachary’s gaze and hands dropped from her at the same time, and he awkwardly turned away. “Her death hit me hard, you know. Matilda wasn’t only a valued colleague. She was my dearest friend. Philadelphia held too many sad memories for me after she was gone. Everywhere I looked, all I could see was her absence.” He turned back with a half shrug and a full sigh.
 
“Perhaps the move out here was hasty, but I wasn’t thinking very clearly at the time. I just knew I wanted to be near family.”

“F-family?” Staring up at him, Tabitha felt her smile beginning to freeze. “B-but you’re an Earnshaw.”

“On my father’s side, naturally. But my mother’s people are MacAllister.” His brows rose, as though he was surprised she hadn’t realized that. “It’s a large clan, you know.”

The brittle smile froze so hard it cracked and dropped straight off a suddenly ashen face. Tabitha thought she could almost hear the shattering sound it made as it hit the floor.

“Too large,” she rasped, turned like a zombie, and glided shakily to the door, only to find her exit blocked by an amber-eyed Rock of Gibraltar in crisp linen shirt and trousers so tight she wondered, even in her haze, how he was managing to draw air. Just the painted-on sight of them made it difficult for
her
to breathe. Between that and the second regretfully large helping of boiled beef Simon had foisted upon her earlier, she couldn’t get outside fast enough.

“And where do you think you’re going, lassie?”

“The bailey wall. I’m going to hurl myself off the top,” Tabitha lied, regretting also the second helping of apple custard. “If that doesn’t work, I’ll try falling into the moat. That’s the nice thing about castles. They offer so many suicide options.”

The Rock lounged against the doorframe, eyes glittering down at her. “Aren’t we being just a wee bit melodramatic?”

“I don’t know about you, but I certainly am. It’s such an appropriate n-night for it, what with the storm and all,” she half gasped, not sure how much longer her midnight supper would stay in place. “Now you’d really b-better let me by.”

“No. Not if you’re going to try something silly.”

Good heavens, couldn’t he see she was just…just…

“I’m not going to be s-silly. I think I’m going to be s-sick!” She clamped one hand across her midsection and the other over her mouth.

“Bloody hell…” Alan grabbed her by the elbows and steered her out into the courtyard.

The rain had stopped only moments before, and the wind gusted fresh and cool against her flushed skin, blowing the queasiness away and bracing her up.

“Th-thank you. I’m all right now.” She tried to step out of his hold.

The hold remained firm, setting her a new problem: how to ignore the electric tingles his touch sparked.

“You’re sure? This is an awfully sudden recovery.” There was a hint of suspicion in his husky baritone.

Added to everything else, it rankled her nerves. “Yes! I’m fine. Now let go of my arms.”

He did. But apparently just so he could slide his hands around her waist and draw her back to lean on him. Tabitha’s breath hitched as his warmth wrapped around her and his chest muscles rippled against her spine.

“Of course now, ’twas a sudden illness, too,” he mused. “Makes me wonder if you planned it to get me alone.”