Night and Day (13 page)

“No. At first, I wanted to rage and beat my head on the stones. But then I started to think of Marcus, and I was still angry, but there's a kind of comfort in knowing that he'll be here where he wanted to be. I can ride down here and imagine him running out of the mist and telling me how he'd just been hiding and playing in the caves and had great adventures to tell me.” The tears were running down her cheeks. “And now I believe we'd better go take him into that mist so that he can begin those adventures. Then we can go back to the castle and tell our other children that they must stop grieving and start living. Does that not sound like a good plan?”

“A fine plan,” Antonio said thickly as he touched her damp cheek. “A magnificent plan, my own Cira…”

*   *   *

The softness of Caleb's handkerchief was on Jane's cheek.

“What are you doing?” She tried to back away from him.

“Be still. You're crying.” He dabbed at the tears. “And I know this is the closest to comfort you'll allow me to go.”

“Stupid,” she said unsteadily. “I'm behaving very stupidly. But don't you dare laugh at me.”

“I wouldn't think of it.” He handed her the handkerchief. “You've given me a gift, and that would be ungracious.”

She wiped her eyes again. “What gift?”

“You've shared Cira and her world with me.”

“Only a dream.”

“Not to you. And not to me now.”

She shook her head and started back through the mist toward the camp. “And what did you learn from it?”

“Details, emotions, how you feel, perhaps what you'll react to when you're wandering around in this mist. All valuable stuff.”

“I don't see it.”

He smiled. “But you don't have to see it. For once, all you have to do is trust that I do. And that I'll be there to help you sort it out when the time comes.”

“That's not the way I do things.”

He laughed. “I know. But sometime you might think about it now and then. I'm sure when we're out of this mist that you'll try to forget that your moment of weakness ever happened. But it did, Jane, and I made tremendous gains.”

She was already out of the mist, and she looked back at him, still wreathed in the pale gray haze and smiling at her.

“You're fooling yourself. I didn't have a moment of weakness. It was only a dream…”

MOSCOW

THREE DAYS LATER

Natalie Castino was smiling up at Ivan and was talking to him in a low voice. She had picked a pink rose from a bush by the garden wall and tucked it into her glossy dark hair.

Jock didn't like it. It was the third night that Natalie had strolled down from the mansion to the gatehouse this week. She had a perfectly good excuse to do that. A mother visiting her daughter. But there had been no visit to Cara. She had spent thirty to forty minutes in the garden talking to Ivan Sabak. Then she had gone back to the mansion.

And Ivan had stood there watching her with a smile on his face until she entered the house.

Seduction?

A business proposal?

Or both?

Natalie was capable of combining any number of attractive lures to get what she wanted.

But what could she want from Ivan that she couldn't get from her father? The answer had to be that she needed to deceive Kaskov and manipulate her present situation, and Ivan might have a role in her doing that.

And Ivan had been chosen as the guard for Cara, and therefore that manipulation had to involve her.

No, Jock didn't like it one bit.

TWO DAYS LATER

She was so tired tonight, Cara thought as she opened the front door and entered the gatehouse. Tired and on edge and a little bit afraid. She was usually charged, brimming with the excitement of the music when she came back from the mansion. Not tonight. At first the magic had been there, but then it had dwindled, then ebbed away entirely as she had caught Natalie staring at her from across the room.

Impatience. Rage. Hatred.

Hatred?

The realization had shocked her.

Why would Natalie hate her?

She knew that her mother was constantly annoyed with her, but she hadn't realized the annoyance and anger had become stronger, that it had blossomed into this ugliness.

What was it about Cara that would cause Natalie to find something in her to hate?

She had finished the concerto and said good night to Kaskov, but she had wanted to run away, and she had been afraid Natalie would notice. She had said that Cara must never make her look bad in front of her grandfather, and she was afraid that shock and fear was visible to anyone looking at her.

She leaned back against the door.

I need you, Eve. I don't understand this, I don't understand her. I don't know what to do.

But she was thousands of miles away from Eve. Thousands of miles away from Jock. They might not even know where she was.

So she had to face this alone. Stop being a baby about it.

She was lucky. She had the music. She'd find a way to get away from here that wouldn't hurt Eve. It was only a matter of watching and waiting for an opportunity.

She started up the steps. Go to bed. Maybe she wouldn't play tonight as she usually did. Maybe she'd just bury her face in the covers and try to forget that expression on Natalie's face. But if she did that, the hatred would stay with her, and Natalie would win.

Let the music take it away. Then let it bring thoughts of Eve and Jock and that wonderful misty lake that was magic, too. Don't let her win. Don't let her hurt—

A hand was clamped hard over mouth!

She instinctively kicked back and struck a kneecap.

“Ouch.” It was a soft breath of sound. “Give me a break. I may need that kneecap.”

Jock.

She tore his hand away from her mouth. “Jock!” She threw herself into his arms and held him tight. “Jock.” She couldn't seem to say anything else. “I didn't—I can't—” She buried her head in his chest. “You're here.”

“And evidently very welcome.” His voice was unsteady. “And you're a little inarticulate. That's okay. I'm not doing so well myself.”

“I wasn't sure anyone knew—Is Eve okay? Natalie kept telling me that she was, but she lies. She lies so much that I can't—There was a shot. Is she okay?”

“Eve is fine, except for worrying about you.” He was pulling her into her bedroom. “I need to talk to you. I've checked this room, and there aren't any bugs, but I think the bathroom is safer. Your guard, Ivan, stays mostly in the other garden, but he patrols below your balcony every once in a while.”

“I didn't know that.” She had thought she had that small amount of privacy. “How did you know?”

“Because I had to.” He was pulling her into the bathroom and closing the door. He crossed the small room and turned on the shower. “Sound barrier. And he's used to your coming in and taking a shower before you settle down with your violin. He'll expect it.”

“Will he? I don't care what Ivan expects. Turn on the light. I want to see you.” She didn't wait for him to do it. She switched on the overhead light herself.

Jock. He was dressed in a black turtleneck sweater and jeans, and his fair hair shone under the light. He was smiling at her, and that smile was as radiant as always. She couldn't stop looking at him. It seemed like a century had passed since she had seen him that night in MacDuff's tent. “I'm … sorry. I'm so sorry. I've been wanting to tell you that since Franco caught me. I was so afraid that he'd find you, too. And it would have been my fault. I tried to warn you.”

“Shh. I know.” He was there beside her, looking down at her. “Stay. You typed in STAY on your phone.”

“But was it too late?”

“Not for me. Only for you.”

“That's good. I was so worried, and I couldn't find out anything. Natalie didn't seem to know about you, and she could have been lying about Eve.” She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. “I'm talking too much, aren't I?” She opened her eyes and felt the tears stinging. “It's just that I haven't been around anyone who—And there are so many things I don't know.” She reached and touched his arm. “And I've missed you, Jock.”

“Hey, I've missed you, too.” His voice was soft as he brushed a kiss across the tip of her nose. “And I'd probably be babbling as much as you are, but I've had an advantage. I wasn't in the dark and surrounded by strangers. I knew where you were, knew I could reach out and take you if I had to do it.”

“Then why didn't you do it?” She shook her head. “No, I shouldn't have said that. It's bad here. It's all pretty and smooth on the surface, but it's bad. I wouldn't have wanted you to come after me. That Ivan man in the garden has dead eyes. And Kaskov seems all right with me, but then he turns away, and his face changes, and I know that he—”

“Hush.” Jock's fingers touched her lips. “I'll tell you everything, and you can tell me everything. But not in this rush that's tearing me apart. And maybe not all right now. There are things you have to know.” He dropped down on the white-tile floor and pulled her down beside him. “First, are you okay? Has anyone hurt you? I haven't seen anything. But I have to be sure.”

She shook her head impatiently. What did that matter? “Natalie, one time. She didn't like it because I kept asking about Eve. But no one else.”

“Kaskov?”

“No, he treats me … like a kind of pet. He loves the music, and he's proud that someone in his family can play. I think he thinks of it as his own—” She tried to put into words the thought she had never consciously formed. “He thinks the music comes from him, that it belongs to him.”

“That could be a problem.”

She took his hand. He felt so good. Strong. Warm. Safe. Nothing else was important right now. “I don't care.”

“But have either Kaskov or Natalie threatened you?”

She tried to think. “Not Kaskov. Natalie said something to Ivan once about how I wasn't to be allowed to leave here. I think she meant—” She stopped. She didn't want to think about what that meant. That moment tonight when she had realized how Natalie felt about her seemed far away. Jock was here. Whatever was wrong, they could make right together. “And I don't know why she would want to keep me here anyway. She doesn't like me to be here. She pretends when she's with her father, but she'd like it better if I wasn't around.”

“Would she?” Jock drew her close so that she was leaning against his shoulder and couldn't see his face. “You're sure about that?”

“Yes.” She rushed on, “But we don't have to worry about that now. We'll be able to leave here. I was just worried about Eve. She kept saying things about Eve, and I thought there was some way that she'd be able to hurt her if I didn't do what she wanted. She can't do that, right?”

“No, she can't do that.” His hand was gently stroking her hair. “She can't hurt Eve. She can't hurt you. I won't let her do it.”

“That's good. I was so—” She suddenly stiffened as the realization hit her. “No, that's not good. You shouldn't be here. I told you, it's bad here. You have to go away, Jock.”

“No, I don't. That's not going to happen.”

There was something in his tone that frightened her. “Jock?” She tried to lift her head from his shoulder so that she could look at him, but his hand was suddenly firm, holding her still. And that frightened her more. “Jock!” She was struggling. Pushing him away. “What are—”

Then she saw his face.

Still beautiful as a concerto, gray eyes still with that unforgettable shimmer.

But hard, so hard, his lips tight, the cheeks more hollow than when she had seen him last at Gaelkar.

“What's wrong?” she whispered.

“You,” he said jerkily. “You're what's wrong, Cara. And I can't pretend that it's not. God knows, I've tried. I wanted to pretend that I could be just your kindly big brother who is going to whisk you out of here on a magic carpet. The big brother works fine, but there's nothing kind about me, and I have no magic carpet. I am what I am. And right now, you're not going to like what I am.”

“No, I'll always like you. I'll always love you. Stop talking like that. You're my friend. I never really had a friend before I met you.” She could feel the tears sting her eyes. “So you have to stop scaring me like this. Do you hear me?”

He was silent. “I hear you. But you'll have to remember that I did warn you.” He suddenly smiled. “But for now, we'll pretend that I'm not who I am and that there is a magic carpet.” He took her hand. “I'm going to have trouble getting you back to Eve. I don't anticipate a problem here, but Kaskov is a powerhouse. He has informants and connections in every walk of life. It will be difficult getting you out of the city. Hell, it may be difficult getting you out of Russia.”

“I don't have to go right away.” She found herself clinging to his hand. “You don't have to help me. Maybe I could—”

“Be quiet. Why do you think I came to Moscow?” he said roughly as he cupped her face in his two hands. “Of course I'm going to help you. I just want you to see the big picture. It could be important. You said you were in the dark. You're not going to be that way any longer.”

“Okay.” She drew a deep, shaky breath. “But I really would like it if you wouldn't keep telling me not to talk. Do you know how much I've missed talking to you?”

“Oh, shit.” He kissed her forehead and let her go. “You always manage to lay me low. May I point out that usually when you've been speaking tonight, it's brought on an emotional meltdown? Besides, I don't know how much more time we have. You've had an awfully long shower. Usually you're in and out. You always want to get to your violin.”