Labyrinth (8 page)

Margot smiled at Cat. “You need anything…” She let the offer hang.

Cat’s nod gave way to a soft smile that could have made Margot believe her old friend was incapable of murder. But Margot could only hear Etta Mae’s gravelly voice saying,
“No baby’s gonna get in her way.”

Chapter Seven

Margot watched from the front steps of Castle Morrison as headlights cut through the darkness beyond the driveway’s stone gate and a red Alpha Romeo turned into the circular drive. She wondered which window Cat was spying from. Given Cat’s reaction to McNeil that morning, Margot had decided to cancel their date. She'd called Chief Inspector John Gordon and asked that he get in touch with McNeil, but Gordon said he didn’t know any McNeil and warned her against saying otherwise. She hadn’t been surprised by Gordon’s response, but requested that he tell the g
entleman
who visited her today that the
date
was off. Gordon had laughed with much the same amusement McNeil had and informed her in a clipped Scottish burr that he wasn’t a dating service. Goddamn Scots.

McNeil slowed in front of the entrance and Margot reached for the passenger side door before the car came to a complete stop. She slid into the leather seat and pulled the door shut.

Broad shoulders accentuated by a golden brown pullover sweater registered in her mind before she said, “You’ve pretty much fucked me.”

Light from the brightly lit drive illuminated the surprise that flickered across is face before nonchalance veiled his thoughts. He released the clutch and the car started forward. “Not yet, but give me a chance.”

Margot ignored the warmth that flushed through her, and said, “She knows.”

His gaze remained focused on the driveway. “Knows what?”

“Who you are.”

His head snapped in her direction. Their gaze locked for a second before he looked at the driveway again and slowed as they approached the road. “That’s not possible.”

“Anything’s possible.”

He looked both ways,
then
turned left onto the deserted road. Scant moonlight shone down on the barren hills that melted into shadow.

“What happened?” he asked.

“As I predicted, she knew about our
meeting
.”

“That's not surprising. The Isle of Lewis is a small island. Castle Morrison is an even smaller community. Everything is news. You come from a small town. You know that.”

“She advised me to find you and get a good lay.”
So much for keeping her distance
.

He glanced at her. “Sound advice, if you ask me.”

Margot gave him an appraising look and said, “Looks aren’t everything,” despite the bulge that pressed against the fly of his jeans.

“No,” he answered with a small smile, and she knew he had come close to reading her mind.

“It was subtle, but she was angry,” Margot said. “She would have no reason to care unless she knew.”

“You say it was subtle. Maybe you’re mistaken.”

“Just like I’m mistaken about her murdering her husband?”
My cousin
, she silently added. “You think I’m stupid enough not to recognize when someone’s hiding something that big?”

A moment of silence passed before he said, “No, I don’t think you're stupid. But that doesn’t mean you’ve got it right. Your chief said the coroner ruled the death an accidental drowning.”

Margot gave a hollow laugh. “Wouldn’t you be able to tell if your best friend killed her husband?”

“Suspecting a close friend of murdering her spouse is no small matter.”

He turned a bend in the road and thin moonlight shimmered across the small inlet she’d visited her second day on the island.

“No,” she agreed. “It isn’t.”

“I’ll have a look at what she’s been doing here in
Scotland
.”

“I thought you said I was wrong.”

“Professional—”

“—courtesy—” she finished in unison with him.

He smiled. “John ran a check on her. Mine will be more thorough." McNeil's expression sobered. "But keep in mind, he didn’t find even a parking ticket. Is she involved with anyone?”

“Not that I know of.”
Margot stared out the window, but saw Donny's face, the love shining in his eyes the day he'd looked down at Cat in the
Woodville
First
Baptist
Church
, and said,
I do
. “But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have a target in her sites." Margot said. "Killing is in her blood.”

*****

They arrived in Stornoway, and McNeil pulled the Alpha into a spot along the curb, then got out and came around the car as Margot stepped from the car.

“I thought you might like this place.” He nodded toward the sign that read
Sunsets Restaurant
. “The seafood is quite good.”

He slipped an arm around her and warmth spread from the fingers that lightly gripped her waist. Damn, the man was pure male, and her body wanted some of that masculine attention. An entanglement was the last thing she needed. Now if she could convince her body…

He urged her forward.

“Charles,”
came
a male voice behind them.

He glanced over his shoulder.

A sixty-something man came up alongside McNeil and slapped him on the back. "When did ye get in town?"

“A few days ago,” McNeil replied.

The man glanced at Margot,
then
looked back at McNeil. His eyes lit with curiosity.

"Margot, this is Alex MacLeod,” McNeil said. “Alex, Margot Saulnier."

She extended her hand and the older man lightly clasped it in both his large, calloused hands.
"A real pleasure to meet you, Miss Saulnier.
Saulnier," he repeated, "are you French?"

She smiled. "Not completely."

His brows shot up. "Either you are, or you aren't."

"Cajun French," she said.

"Cajun French."
He cast a glance at McNeil that said he found the idea
and
her intriguing.

"You can let go of her hand now, Alex," McNeil said.

The old man looked down at their clasped hands and an expression of surprise so fake appeared on his face that Margot had to bite back a laugh.

He winked,
then
released her. "Is this rascal taking you to his uncle's place?"

"Alex," McNeil growled.

"Come now, lad, if ye don't go, you know he'll have my hide."

"Your hide?"
Margot said.

"Aye, when
Clyde
finds out I saw his nephew, I'll be the one to blame for not making sure he stopped by."

"Margot and I have a quiet evening planned," McNeil said.

The old man snorted. "No woman wants a quiet evening." He winked at her. "
McNeil's
is the finest pub on the island, everyone goes there. Don't let him tell you otherwise."

"Alex," McNeil said.

"Don't talk back to your elders," the old man cut in. "Not to mention, your uncle."

"Uncle?"
Margot repeated.

Alex nodded. "I'm his uncle on his mother's side.
Clyde
is his father's brother."

She glanced at McNeil.
"A regular family affair."

"You have no idea," he answered in a dry tone.

Alex caught her hand, slipped it into the crook of his arm, and started away. "
McNeil's
has the finest ales." He leaned toward Margot and whispered in a conspiratorial tone, "Is he following?"

Margot started to look back just as McNeil stepped up beside her.
"Seems so."

"Damn him," the old man said, and she laughed.

Ten minutes later, McNeil opened the door to
McNeil's Pub
, to the roar of raucous laughter, male voices in open debate mingled with female voices. Margot stepped inside and blinked against the smoke that hung in layers throughout the room. Alex hadn't lied. She didn’t see an empty seat in the small pub.

Alex sidled past tables to the bar on the right. He patted the shoulder of a man sitting on a stool in the middle of the bar. "Move along, lad."

The man swiveled in the chair and faced them. "Alex, you old fool." His gaze caught on Margot, then McNeil. He smiled, grabbed the mug of ale sitting on the bar, and stood. “M'lady,” he said to Margot, and winked.

She settled on the stool and Alex shooed another patron from an adjacent seat, then sat down. Margot glanced at McNeil and shrugged. He gave a good natured shake of his head and stepped between her and the stool to her right. A thrill tightened her stomach when he pressed his chest against her back and called, "What does a man have to do to get
an ale
around here?"

A man at the end of the bar looked up, his gaze in the mirror that spanned the length of the wall, and Margot recognized the same intense stare belonging to McNeil. Strands of silver lightened the man's sandy blond hair, only emphasizing the crystal blue eyes. He stood an inch shorter than McNeil, but boasted the same broad shoulders and fit arms. Here was a preview of McNeil twenty-five years from now. She could live with that. Margot flushed warm. When had she ever thought of a man beyond mere months?

The older McNeil turned and headed toward them.
Clyde
reached them and leaned both hands on the bar at shoulder width. “About time you came for a visit.” A soft but distinct Scottish burr, absent in McNeil's British accent, rolled off his tongue.

"Mum called, I take it?" McNeil said, unruffled.

"She did."

"I've been preoccupied."

Clyde
’s gaze shifted onto Margot. "So I see."

McNeil leaned closer. "Margot, meet my father's brother, Clyde McNeil.
Clyde
, Margot Saulnier."

He gave her a nod,
then
turned his attention back to Charles. "What will you have to drink?"

"I'll have a Celtic Black Ale, if you have any on hand."

Clyde
's eyes narrowed, and Margot had the distinct impression McNeil was baiting his uncle.

McNeil leaned on the bar to her side so that he could see her face.
"What would you like, Margot?"

"I'll try the ale."