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Authors: Iris Johansen

BOOK: Hide Away
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Eve was silent because she couldn't speak. “I can tell you're an artist. You're painting very beautiful pictures.” She cleared her throat. “But that's down the road, and we just need to get through the next months so that it will be only clear sailing.”

“I'll second that.” Jane grinned and got to her feet. She reached down and offered a hand to Eve and pulled her to her feet. “And that means taking care of yourself while you're on the run from Salazar. Maybe you shouldn't be working on your knees in that courtyard.”

“Don't start that,” Eve said. “You sound like Joe. Exercise is good for me. I'm strong as a horse. Do
not
start pampering me.”

“I'll try to remember,” Jane said. “I'll do my best to forget you're pregnant and let you work yourself to the bone for the glory of MacDuff and Cira.” She started up the hill. “I'll even refrain from telling MacDuff and Jock. I don't believe Caleb will discuss it. He just thinks it's interesting.”

“Good,” Eve said. “All I'd need is all those protective males giving me the same treatment as Joe is doing.”

“Yeah, you're too tough for that.”

“I can but try.”

“And come off very effectively in that area.” She smiled. “Don't be too tough, Eve. I owe you too much. Let me pay back a little.”

“I know. I know. You've already expressed your feelings on that score. I knew I didn't have a chance of convincing you.” She waved at Caleb as he got out of the car to greet them. “Particularly not now. You invoked the mantra. Family, Jane. Family.”

GAELKAR CASTLE

Jane waited until after they'd eaten supper and all started to scatter before she followed MacDuff to his tent.

She poked her head through the entrance. “May I come in?”

MacDuff's brows rose, and he gestured for her to enter. “By all means, step into my parlor. I've been trying to convince you for years that's where you belonged.”

“You are not a spider, and I detest flies. I have no ambitions to be one. You could have at least personified me as a butterfly. They have artistic value.” She stepped inside. “I wanted to ask you a question.”

“In the privacy of my tent. I can hardly wait. Personal, I hope?”

“Only as far as it's the present love of your life.” She gazed around the tent to the portable desk piled high with scrolled plans and loose papers. “Is there anything in that mess that has anything to do with the terrain of the countryside around the castle?”

His eyes narrowed. “Why do you ask?”

“Is there?”

“One. I didn't regard it as important since we're concentrating on the castle.”

“May I see it?”

“Why? You and Eve left the dig this afternoon to go traipsing back to the lake where Caleb took her yesterday. She was exploring the area to gauge the threat it posed to her and Cara. Were you doing the same thing?”

“I want to keep Eve safe.”

“That's noncommittal. I think there's more to it.” He smiled. “But I'll accept it for the time being.” He turned and went to the desk and searched through the scrolled maps and plans until he found one with a thin blue border. He spread it on the desk and adjusted the lantern so that the light fell upon it. “It's just a basic map of the area.”

That's exactly what it was. But Jane would take what she could get. Her gaze went quickly over the trails and roads and hills and then up to the huge lake. It was strange gazing at those simple lines on paper when she remembered the dark blue water, the pale mist, the trees, the hills.

“You wanted to look at the lake again,” MacDuff murmured, gazing at her face. “It appears to have a fascination for you.”

“It is fascinating. I'd like to paint it sometime.” She didn't take her gaze off the map. “I suppose you've seen it?”

“Of course. This isn't the first time I've been to this castle. Everything about the place is absolutely riveting for me. I know every legend, every myth. It's the place my clan originated, where we all began. I'm very passionate about it.”

Is it the beginning of the world, or the end?

“You hide it very well.”

“I'm a Scot.” He smiled. “And I've learned not to let my emotions rule me. I'm the Laird, and many people look to me. It's a complicated world I live in, and I can't let my guard down.” He paused. “But I've let my guard down with you, Jane. Because you're one of mine. You belong to Cira and to me.”

“Bullshit.”

He chuckled. “I knew that would cause you to bristle.” He looked down at the map. “Is there anything you'd like to ask me? I may know a few things more than this map will tell you.”

“Because, after all, you are the Laird,” she said dryly.

“Exactly.”

She pointed to a line that appeared to wind from the castle to the lake. “What is this?”

“It's a dirt trail that leads down to the lake. I'm told as far as anyone knows that it's been there since the castle was built. The road was only built by my orders about ten years ago. I thought it was time it was accessible.”

“Why?” She tilted her head. “Don't tell me you're thinking of rebuilding this castle?”

“Anything is possible if I find that chest of coins.” He grinned. “After all, it's mine.”

“So would be the entire world if you had your way.” She looked back at the map. “What about the lake itself. It's very … unusual.”

“The mists?” He nodded. “For decades, we've had forestry and environmental experts from the universities wanting to come in and make their tests. They want to find out why those mists never disperse. Sunlight or storm, the mists remain. They have all their theories, but it's frustrating them to hell that they can't come here and get confirmation.”

“And you won't let them do it?”

“I don't want to know.” He gazed at her. “Do you?”

“It's none of my concern.”

“Do you?” he repeated softly.

He would come running out of the mist and tell me he'd been playing in the caves.

“No.” She asked before he could reply, “In the past, haven't any of your family gone on that north shore and explored beyond those mists?”

“No, it would take a full-scale expedition, those mists are very thick. You can't see more than a few feet in front of you. My grandfather tried and fell and broke his leg when the bank gave way. He almost drowned before he got back to the south bank.”

“And no one else?”

“Ah, you are curious.” His finger traced the north curve of the lake. “As a matter of fact, one of those very pushy professors from Oxford sent a few of his prize students up here to get answers in hopes that I wouldn't prosecute them. One of my caretakers, Ned Colin, saw the cars on the road and went after them.”

She had seen his “caretakers,” who were old Marine buddies, and she felt an instant of sympathy for those college kids. “He wasn't afraid of getting lost in the mists?”

“Colin only went a few feet and shouted for them to come out. He said they seemed relieved to come stumbling toward him. He confiscated all equipment, cameras, and notes, and sent the kids on their way.”

She went still. “They took photos?”

“That caught your interest. It caught mine as well. But you'd be disappointed. They're only a white blur. The sketches weren't much better.”

“Sketches?”

“I knew that would pique your interest. Yes, one of the students had a sketchbook. But, as I said, nothing much more revealing than the photos.”

“And the notes?”

“They didn't have much time to take notes. Only maybe four, five hours. Nothing interesting.”

She looked back down at the map. “Any mention of the topography? Rocks, caves, mud, sinkholes, cleared areas?”

“They couldn't see, they didn't have time to set up their lighting equipment.” He added, “Of course, I'm not an expert at examining that kind of data. Would you like to look at them yourself?”

“Yes.”

“That was instant and vehement. You clearly don't trust me to have noticed whatever you're looking for. Would you care to tell me what that is?”

“I don't know.” She would not lie to him, but to tell the entire truth would immediately set off that very active mind. “I have no logical reason.”

“And it has nothing to do with why I brought you here?”

“That's definitely not why I'm interested in those reports.”

And now I believe it's time to take our son into that mist so that he can begin his great adventures.

A search for a dream, some small proof that it didn't really exist.

She met his eyes. “I don't want to discuss it, MacDuff. Do I have to do it to have you get those reports for me?”

“Oh, the temptation.” He shook his head. “No, I'll have my assistant, MacTavish, dig out the originals and clarify them as much as possible and e-mail them to me. They'll be in your hands by tomorrow sometime.”

“Thank you.” She turned to leave.

“But you do know I'll be making guesses, and my imagination will run free?”

“I wouldn't expect anything else of you.”

“By the way, what do you think of our progress here at the castle?”

She had half expected that question. “I don't see any progress, but something could happen at any moment. What do you think?”

“I think that it's worthwhile exploring the dungeon for a day or two more, then we'll reassess.” He smiled at her. “I wouldn't want to waste the time you've so generously given me.”

“It's good to be appreciated.” She left the tent and drew a deep breath of the cool night air. She had found what information she could but she'd probably given up as much as she'd received. MacDuff was ultrasharp, and he'd been processing and analyzing every bit of what she'd said. He would weave scenarios, then come back to her and wouldn't stop until she told him what he wanted to know. And what he wanted to know was if the dreams of Cira had come back as he thought they might. It would only confirm to him how right he'd been to bulldoze her into coming on this hunt.

Okay, back off from that burst of annoyance. He'd also taken Eve and Cara under his wing at a danger to himself. You had to accept the bad with the good with MacDuff, and most of the time that good came out on top. He had his agendas, but he was loyal and you could count—”

“What were you doing in MacDuff's tent?”

She turned to see Caleb standing a few yards away. He was standing at ease, but there was a faint tension to the muscles of his shoulders and stomach. She could feel the edge of heat and darkness surrounding him. She instinctively stiffened defensively. “That's really none of your business.”

He was silent, then the tension was suddenly gone, and he was smiling. “Of course it's not. Forget I asked. Or tell me, and then you'll know I'm not storing it away and letting it fester. Being the sexual creature I am, I immediately jumped to a conclusion that's probably totally wrong.”

“Yes, but you shouldn't be lurking around like some peeping Tom anyway.”

“I wasn't lurking, not that I'm not capable of lurking if it suits me. But I wanted to speak to you before you went to bed. It didn't make me happy to see you duck into MacDuff's tent. It was fortunate that you didn't spend more time than you did with him. That would have made me feel dangerously unhappy.”

“Is that supposed to mean something to me? It's still none of your business.”

“That's where we have a problem. It depends on the viewpoint. You see I have a small problem with MacDuff. Ordinarily, I think you have too many frictions to decide to go to bed with him, but he's one of the good guys. Not as good as Trevor was, but still in the same ballpark. And you have a tendency to lean that way.”

She turned and walked toward her tent.

He caught up and strolled with her. “But all that indignation can't be directed toward my interference. Your time with MacDuff must have been squeaky clean.”

“I believe this conversation is over.”

“Almost.” He stopped outside her tent. “I wanted to tell you that I was glad that you told Eve you knew about the child and that it came out all right.”

“I didn't have any doubt. You see complications where they don't exist. We love each other. That makes all the difference.”

“Does it? I'll have to bow to your superior knowledge.” He paused. “I like to see the two of you together. It … warms me.”

She gazed at him. The words had been almost … she didn't know what. But then she often didn't understand Caleb. “She told me that you said you would protect her. Now, that warms
me,
Caleb.”

He smiled. “You see, I can please you occasionally. I just never know when or where. But give me a chance, and I'll show you how.”

That instant of rapport was gone, and she turned to go into her tent. “Good night, Caleb.”

She heard him laugh as she entered the tent and turned on her lantern.

As usual, those few minutes had put Jane on edge and made her vibrantly, sensually, aware of Caleb. And this time she had thought she had sensed a vulnerability beneath the mockery.

Vulnerability? Not Caleb. There was no one tougher or more impervious to the forces around him. She had to keep thinking that way. If she softened, he would swoop down, and she might be lost.

Forget about Caleb. Think about Cira and that dream that had come out of the night after all these years. She had thought she had beaten it down and dismissed the idea that those dreams had any basis in reality. She had reluctantly accepted the idea of racial or ancestral memory being a vague possibility. But she had been grateful when those dreams had ceased, and she didn't want them to return. She wanted to deny them in any way she could.

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