Countdown (12 page)

She nodded. “Tomorrow. No perhaps about it.”

He smiled brilliantly before turning and leaving the room.

She stood up the moment he was out of sight. “I’m out of here.”

“No coffee?”

“I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction.” She glared at him. “Are you proud of yourself?”

“Not particularly. It was too easy.”

“Because you’re a bully.”

“Not usually. I was annoyed. I watched you murmuring and giggling with him all through dinner and it had its effect. I had it pretty well under control until he decided to lecture me.”

“Mario’s only a kid. He’s no match for you.”

“He’s older than you.”

“You know what I mean.”

“That he’s soft and full of dreams.” He met her gaze. “And some of those dreams are of Cira. If you’re looking for someone at MacDuff’s Run who won’t compare you to Cira, come to me.”

“Bull. You can’t separate the two of us in your mind.”

He shook his head. “I never said that. You’re the one who jumped to conclusions. From the moment I saw you I knew exactly who and what you were to me.” He paused. “And it wasn’t Cira.”

Heat tingled through her, catching her unaware. Christ, she didn’t want this response. It made her feel confused and weak. She’d been angry only a moment ago and now she was— She was still angry, dammit. “You weren’t fair. Mario’s like a friendly puppy.”

“I know, and you like puppies.” His lips twisted. “Maybe that’s my problem. I’ve never resembled a puppy in my life.” He got up. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it right with Mario. It was only a temporary blowup. I like the kid.”

“You didn’t behave like it.”

“Actually, I did. I was very restrained for the way I was feeling. But if I upset you, I should probably make amends. If you want to go running after Mario and soothe his feelings, I won’t stop you.”

“What a sacrifice.”

“You have no idea.” He stood looking at her. “I suppose this isn’t the moment to ask you to go to bed with me?”

She stiffened in shock. “What?”

“I didn’t think so.” He turned and headed for the door. “It’s too soon and you’re mad as hell at me. But I thought I’d throw it out there and let you become accustomed to the idea that it was coming. I’ve got some work to do, so I’ll leave and get to it.” He smiled at her over his shoulder. “Since I’m ridding you of my presence, there’s no reason that you can’t stay and have your coffee. I’ll see you in the morning.”

She couldn’t find the words to speak. She could only stare after him with her mind and emotions in chaos.

“Well, evidently we took long enough to resolve the situation,” Bartlett said as he came in carrying a platter of cheese. “I trust there was no violence?”

“No,” she said absently. “Mario went up to work.”

“Very wise. Young men tend to want to challenge all comers, but I thought Mario was smarter than to do it with Trevor.”

“Mario’s a sweet boy.”

“If he was a boy, Trevor would have less trouble with him.” He put the platter down on the table. “I’ll go see what’s keeping Brenner with the coffee. I thought he was right behind me.”

“Not for me. I don’t want anything.” She turned toward the door. “I think I’ll go to my room. It’s been a long day.”

“Yes, it has. Perhaps that would be best. Sleep brings a clear head.”

“My head is clear, Bartlett.” She was lying. Her thoughts were in a turmoil and she couldn’t get the memory of Trevor’s words out of her mind. Admit it, she couldn’t get
him
out of her mind. Since the moment she had seen him outside the dorm, the sexual tension had been growing, developing, but she’d tried to ignore it. There was no ignoring it now that he had spoken that one sentence. It was there before her and she had to confront it and come to terms with it.

“I’m glad,” Bartlett said gently. “You look a bit disturbed. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No, I’m fine.” She forced a smile as she started for the door. “Thank you. Good night, Bartlett.”

“Pleasant dreams.”

The pleasantest prospect she could have would be no dreams at all. Not of Cira and her damned run through that tunnel. And not of Trevor, who had dominated too much of her thoughts since he had entered her life four years ago.

Jesus, she had worked so hard to block him out of her memory. When that failed, she had used the memory, lived with it, in an attempt to render it powerless. She had thought she’d succeeded.

The hell she had. He hadn’t even touched her and her body was tingling, alive, needing. . . .

No, she didn’t need him. She
wouldn’t
need him. The word indicated weakness, and she wasn’t weak. She didn’t need anyone.

She started to climb the stairs. She’d go to her room and take advantage of that hot shower Bartlett had waxed eloquent about. Then she’d call Eve and talk to her and gradually this turmoil would lessen or vanish entirely.

She was lying to herself. It would take more than a chat with the person she loved the most to quiet this disturbance. She’d have to do what she always did with a problem. She’d have to face it, make it her own, and then find a way to rid herself of it.

I
’ve brought your coffee, Trevor,” Bartlett said as he opened the library door. “Someone has to drink it after Brenner went to the trouble of making it. He gets a bit touchy.”

“We wouldn’t want that.” Trevor watched Bartlett put a tray on the desk. “Two cups?”

“I didn’t get mine either. We were all too busy tiptoeing around trying to avoid your bad manners.” He poured coffee into the cups. “That display wasn’t worthy of you.”

“I’ve had my fill of lectures tonight, Bartlett.”

“He only wanted to impress her. Any other time you’d have ignored it. He’s not in your league.”

“I know that.” He sipped his coffee. “Or I would have been a hell of a lot harder on him. I was in a lousy mood.”

Bartlett nodded. “The green-eyed monster. It was refreshing to see you raked over the coals. I was very amused.”

“I’m sure you were. Why don’t you get out of here? Venable called while I was at dinner and I have to return his call.”

“After I finish my coffee.” Bartlett leaned back in his chair. “You handled the situation very clumsily. Jane was bound to be defensive of him. It’s her nature.”

“Now I have to take advice from a man who’s been divorced three times? Your qualifications suck, Bartlett.”

“I may not have been able to keep a woman but I was always able to acquire them.”

“I don’t want to ‘acquire’ Jane. When have you ever known me to want that kind of baggage?”

“Well, I’m sure lust figures significantly in your attitude. After four years of anticipation, it’s quite reasonable.”

“You’re off the track, Bartlett.”

He shook his head. “Oh, I know you’ve had other women since you left Herculaneum. I really liked that Laura person. She reminded me of my—”

“Out.”

He smiled and finished his coffee. “I’m going. I just wished to give you the benefit of my vast experience. You proved you needed it tonight. Considering what a smooth operator you are, it surprised me. I was feeling wonderfully superior until I began to feel sorry for Jane.”

“She can take care of herself.” Trevor’s lips twisted. “Or are you saying she’s still too young to know what she wants? That she’d be better off with some idealistic kid like Mario?”

“I didn’t say that.” He stood up. “But I’ve seen you when you’re on the attack. Once you make up your mind you don’t stop. You have years and years of experience over Jane, and that could—”

“I’m thirty-four,” he said through his teeth. “I’m
not
Methuselah.”

Bartlett chuckled. “I thought that would prick you. I’ll leave now.”

“Bastard.”

“You deserved it for making an ass of yourself at dinner. I enjoy my meals, and anything that interferes with my digestion is in danger of annihilation.” He headed for the door. “Remember that when you’re tempted to roast any other
younger
men with your bad temper.”

He closed the door behind him before Trevor could answer.

Puckish son of a bitch. If he didn’t like him so much, he’d throw him off the parapets of this damn castle. He might anyway if Bartlett kept on jabbing at him. His temperament was obviously not at all stable at present or he wouldn’t have handled Mario that stupidly. Bartlett was right, it was clumsy, and he prided himself on his deftness.

And he’d been equally clumsy with Jane in the conversation afterward. He should have kept his distance, let her become accustomed to him again.

Hell, no. She didn’t need to become accustomed to him. It was as if they’d never been apart. And he couldn’t act any other way when he was with her. He was no Bartlett, and he wouldn’t—

His phone rang. Venable.

“I haven’t got it yet,” he said before Venable could speak. “Maybe in the next few days. Mario’s working on another Cira scroll.”

“And what if that one doesn’t pan out either?” Venable’s voice was charged with tension. “We have to move.”

“We will. But if we can find out anything else, then we’ll go that route. We have time.”

“Not much. I’m tempted to come in there and take over those scrolls and—”

“You do that and you’ll get ashes.”

“You wouldn’t do that. Those scrolls are priceless.”

“To you. Once I’ve read them they’re nothing to me. I’m such a philistine.”

Venable started to curse.

“I believe I’m going to hang up. I’ve taken enough abuse for one evening. I’ll call you when I have something concrete.”

“No, wait. We intercepted a call tonight from the MacGuire woman. She phoned Eve Duncan.”

“So?”

“She told her about Grozak, about MacDuff’s Run, everything.”

“That’s not unexpected. They’re very close.”

“You shouldn’t have brought her there.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, Venable.”

He pressed the disconnect. In two minutes Venable would call back apologizing and telling him it was desperation that had sent him over the edge.

Screw him. Venable wasn’t a bad guy but he was beginning to get on Trevor’s nerves. He was a frightened man and he was scared Trevor was going to blunder.

Blundering seemed to be the name of the game tonight, Trevor thought ruefully. Well, he was tired of analyzing everything he did or said. He’d lived by instinct most of his life and that’s the way he’d handle this situation.

He went to the window. The moon was bright tonight and he could see the stark cliffs and the sea beyond. How many times had Angus MacDuff stood here, looking out, and thought about the next voyage, the next raid, the next game?

The game.

He turned and moved toward the door. He needed to get his head straight and his priorities in order, and he knew where to go to do that.

The Run.

J
ane took a long shower before slipping on one of Bartlett’s oversize flannel shirts and heading for that huge bed.

Go to sleep. Forget about Trevor and that scene downstairs. He was the grand manipulator, and who knew what he’d intended by telling her he wanted to sleep with her. Maybe he really was anxious to have her, or maybe he was just using his knowledge of her own desires to push her in the way he wanted her to go. The smart thing would be to pretend it had never happened and go on and do what she had to do here.

But that wasn’t her nature. She couldn’t stand pussyfooting around and ignoring the stick of dynamite Trevor had hurled at her. She’d have to confront him, and she wasn’t looking forward to it.

Lord, she was hot. The heavy velvet draperies of the room were smothering. Or maybe she was so charged it only seemed warm. It didn’t matter. She needed air. . . .

Night with no air.

No, that was the dream, Cira’s dream.

She threw back the curtains and opened the heavy casement window.

Bright moonlight shone on the ancient courtyard below.

Ancient? Compared with the ruins of Herculaneum this castle wasn’t old at all. Yet it seemed old when she thought of the comparative youth of the United States and the city of Atlanta where she’d been born. MacDuff’s Run had a haunting quality that was different from Herculaneum. There you were forced by the weight of thousands of years to accept the death of the city and its inhabitants. Here you could still imagine that the Scots who’d lived here would come marching down that road that led to the castle or out that gate to do—

Someone was standing by the stable door across the courtyard, looking up at the castle.

MacDuff?

No, this man was slender, almost gangly, and his hair appeared to be light, not dark. Definitely not MacDuff. Yet there could be no doubt of the intensity of his body language.

The man stiffened, his gaze on someone or something on the front steps. Then he faded back into the stable. Who had he seen?

Trevor.

She saw him walk toward the gate. Even after all these years she had no problem recognizing that springy gait. The cars were parked in the courtyard, but he was making no attempt to use any of the vehicles.

Where the hell was he going?

Evidently she wasn’t the only one asking that question. A man in a windbreaker stepped out of the shadows as Trevor approached. One of the guards Trevor had told her about? They spoke for a moment and then Trevor passed him and went through the gate. The guard faded back into the shadows.

The terrain was rough and stark outside the castle and not inviting for a casual stroll. Was he going to meet someone? If he was, they must already have arrived, for there were no car lights piercing the darkness.

And what was he doing going out without protection when he’d told her it was dangerous for her to do it? If Grozak hated him as much as he’d said, then Trevor would be a prime target.

Fear iced through her. She instantly rejected it. Jesus, Trevor wasn’t her concern. If he was idiot enough to go strolling out there in no-man’s-land, then he deserved what he got. He could take care of himself.

And she wouldn’t stand here and watch to see if he came safely back through that gate. She shut the window and drew the drapes. A moment later she was crawling beneath the sheets and closing her eyes.