Draycott Eternal - Draycott Eternal Part 38
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Draycott Eternal Part 38

"They did so much love it here," Jamee said wistfully. "I think it was all of Scotland, in fact.

They both had family here generations back. In a way, it was like coming home for them."

Jamee swallowed, keeping her voice steady. "Could I see the cottage this morning?"

"Anytime you like." Duncan nodded at a lean man with wiry white hair who pushed open the front door. "Here they are at last, Angus. Bedraggled but no worse, I think. Meet Angus McTavish, Ms. Night. Angus rules us all with an iron hand. The McTavishes have been here at Dunraven almost as long as the MacKinnons, and they"ll be the first to tell you we couldn"t have managed without them, whether in war or in peace."

"Nor could you," the old servant said smugly. "It is a pleasure to welcome you to Dunraven, Ms. Night. I remember your parents well. You have the look of your mother about you, lass.

The same wonderful eyes."

"Thank you," Jamee said, flushing. "They mentioned how kind you all were here. You, too, Mr. McTavish."

"Ach, lass, call me Angus, like the rest do."

Duncan carried Jamee over the threshold and set her down in the Great Hall.

Ian stared over Angus"s broad shoulder through the open door. "Good lord, Angus, what have you done to the braw old place?"

The beams were draped with holly and tinsel. Tiny colored lights flashed from the mullioned window and vintage ornaments of satin and glass gleamed on Dunraven"s massive mantel.

Jamee caught her breath in awe, feeling like a child set down in a chocolate shop.

"It"s prepared for the photo shoot by Lady Dunraven," Angus explained. "Most of the staff ofNew Bride magazine are helping out."

Jamee looked from wall to tabletop, unable to decide which fabric to examine first. Dozens of tartans lined the stairway and covered the magnificent oak chairs. The beauty of the old house reached out, touching Jamee"s heart.

"This is the MacKinnon tartan, isn"t it? I recognize the red-and-green design." She studied a length of old fabric draping a heavy oak hunt table beside the front door.

"So it is," Duncan said proudly. "At least six generations old, by my father"s reckoning. It was said to be woven by an ancestor with magic hands and rare skill."

Jamee felt a curious tension at her neck as she studied the fragile old wool. Some part of her yearned to touch it, while another part of her drew back.

"Her name was Maire MacKinnon," Duncan said. "I believe there"s a portrait of her in the attic if you"re interested."

Before Jamee could answer, footfalls sounded on the broad stone staircase. A woman with deep auburn hair slid a foot over the bannister and sailed gracefully down, right into her husband"s arms.

Duncan tried to look angry and failed miserably. "I thought we agreed there would be no more of that, Kara. Not for the duration."

His wife gave him a cajoling smile. "Of course we agreed. But I didn"t want to keep our guests waiting."

"Blast it, Kara, you promised me."

Kara Fitzgerald MacKinnon wriggled out of his arms. Her purple sweater brought out glints of red in her auburn hair as her gaze swept over Ian, then settled on Jamee. "Here you are at last, my dear. What a nasty welcome to Scotland you"ve had." She shoved a pencil into her auburn curls and shot another measuring look from Ian to Jamee. "I hope you"ve taken good care of her, Ian." She tucked her arm through Jamee"s. "Your boxes arrived yesterday in perfect shape. We"ll send someone for your car shortly." Kara smiled apologetically. "I"m afraid it"s a little chaotic here. We"re finishing the Christmas issue forNew Bride. I thought you"d like to rest and change before you meet everyone."

Jamee thought about the bits of bracken and heather caught in her braid. Her face had to be streaked with soot. Cleaning up seemed like a wonderful idea. She wasn"t ready to meet the curious stares of a dozen strangers.

Not while she was still trying to sort out her emotions about Ian.

She glanced across the hall, where Ian was caught in quiet conversation with Duncan. Neither man was smiling. Jamee could guess the subject.

So he really was a bodyguard. She could probably live with that.

He might be hurt at any moment taking a bullet if her kidnappers decided to rush her. Jamee felt a knot of dread fill her chest. That she couldn"t live with.

Ian had taught her to trust him. He had made her feel safe in his embrace. No, she thought sadly, he had made her feel much more than safe. He had made her feel alive. Wanted.

Beautiful.

Now that she knew the threat in store, how could she wait patiently for Ian to take a blow or deflect a blade aimed at her?

Damn, why couldn"t life ever besimple?

"Here, give me your bag."

Jamee blinked, realizing Ian was standing in front of her. "What?"

"Your workbag. It has to weigh a ton. Hand it over."

Jamee"s shoulders straightened. "I"ll manage. I always have. I always will."

His eyes darkened. "But this time you don"t have to manage. That"s what I"m here for."

"Is it?" Jamee"s fingers tightened on the leather handle. She was driven to fight him, to resist the effortless sense of security he spun whenever he was around her. She had worked too hard for her independence and self-reliance to let them slide away now. "No, I"ll keep it. I always carry my own weight."

Irritation flashed through his eyes. "I know what you"re trying to do, Jamee. In a way, I even applaud it." His voice fell, audible only to her as Duncan and Kara moved toward the main corridor of the house. "You need to keep in control, especially after what you saw at the cottage. Unfortunately, that"s not going to be possible. They will be closing in, and I"m here to protect you when they do. You"re going to have to use me, like it or not."

Jamee"s lips trembled. "I don"t like it. Not one damn bit."

"If it helps," Ian said harshly, "I don"t like it, either."

"It doesn"t help."

Ian muttered a low phrase of Gaelic and tugged the heavy bag from her shoulder. "Trust me a little."

Jamee swallowed. He didn"t understand. There was nothing halfway about trust, not for her.

How did you trust someone to kiss you, but no more? How did you keep trust from spilling over into everything you did? No, it was all or nothing. "I"ll try to remember that. Meanwhile, the trust works two ways. I want to know exactly what"s happening, Ian. Every minute. If you have any news, I want to hear it, too."

"If I can."

"Dammit, Ian-"

"Don"t fight me, Jamee. It will only make this harder. And that"s the last thing I want for you,"

he said softly.

"Ihave to fight. It"s either fight you or-"

Her words were swallowed up by an excited ripple of laughter as people spilled into Dunraven"s Great Hall. Like exotic tropical birds, rail-thin models in long velvet dresses huddled around a striking man with almond-shaped eyes and bright purple hair. When he saw Jamee, his face broke into a smile. He hurried across the room, shoving aside the German camera around his neck, and thrust out a hand. "Hidoshi Sato," he announced. "You must be Miss Night. I"ve seen your work inTextile Quarterly. Great use of color. And you"ve been doing some fabulous things with alpaca and flax."

Jamee flushed slightly. "You saw those? I thought only about twelve people ever read the magazine. You know, I actually began my fabric work in Japan. I worked with a kimono weaver in Kyoto."

"So desu ka?"Hidoshi said in Japanese. "No kidding."

Jamee answered easily.

"You speak Japanese?" Kara looked impressed. "How do you say, One more shot of me without makeup and I"ll deck you"?"

"Far beyond my language abilities, I"m afraid," Jamee said with a laugh. "I can just about order a bowl of soba noodles and buy tickets for the Bullet Train."

"Where is Rob, by the way?" Kara handed a silver-and-red wreath to Hidoshi. "He said he would be finished shooting the Wise Men twenty minutes ago."

"Beats me," the photographer said. "Probably waiting for the light to be perfect. That"s why I like him for an assistant: he takes his time so he"ll get things right on the first shot. No wasted film to explain to the suits up in accounting." Hidoshi held up the wreath and frowned. "Way too bland. How about adding two angels and some more candy canes? You can never have too many angels or too much candy at Christmas."

"I don"t think you"ve met Megan O"Hara, my colleague atNew Bride magazine. Megan is the keeper of the records, the keys and my general sanity." Kara put one arm around a fresh-faced young woman with masses of freckles. "This is Jamee Night, Megan. And since everyone else seems to have come along, why don"t you make the introductions, Duncan?" Kara looked uneasily at her husband.

Jamee realized why. Kara was uncertain how much of the truth to reveal to the gathered company, and she was leaving the decision to her husband.

Did one of the smiling faces in the crowd belong to a criminal? Were the friendly eyes even now hiding secret knowledge of all that had happened at the cottage?

Jamee took a sharp breath.Stop being paranoid, she told herself as Duncan MacKinnon took a spot on the winding staircase.

"Very well, my love, I"ll be happy to do the honors. I want everyone to meet Jamee Night and her friend Ian McCall. They"ll be staying here for a few days while Jamee finishes a set of textile designs we"ve commissioned for the castle. Any questions?"

One of the models tossed back her mane of honey-blond hair and eyed Ian hungrily. "And just what is Mr. McCall going to be doing while Ms. Night is busy working? I wouldn"t want him to be lonely."

Duncan raised one brow. "I"m sure Lord Glenlyle will find something to keep him busy."

"Lord, is it?" The model licked her lips with predatory delight. "I"m available, Lord Glenlyle.

Just remember that."

After a startled silence, Hidoshi cleared his throat. "You aren"t going to have time for any moonlit strolls, Tania. Tonight is the dinner scene and tomorrow is the Victorian wedding.

We"ve got fittings to finish, remember?"

The woman smiled. "Oh, there"s always time for a good thing, isn"t there, Lord Glenlyle?

Especially since you don"t look like a man who lets time go to waste."

"Sorry, but I"m going to be fairly busy myself," Ian said easily, slipping one arm around Jamee"s waist. "I have to be sure that the woman I love doesn"t get lured away by a dashing stranger."

Jamee felt her face fill with heat. His voice was low, tender, filled with emotion.The woman he loved?

She stared at Ian, shocked to realize how much she wanted to believe his words. He looked entirely sincere, his eyes those of a man in love.

She took a ragged breath. "Ian, why are you-"

He cut her off neatly. "Shall we tell them now, my love?"

"Tell themwhat? "

Ian took her wrists and slid them around his waist, drawing her against his chest. "About what happened up at the cottage."

"You mean, the cold, the fog and the fire?"

He laughed huskily, as if sharing a private and very intimate joke. "No, I mean, the other part."

Jamee stared back at him in confusion. Her pulse hammered at the press of his body.

"Whatother part?"

"The most unexpected gift in the world. There we were, just the two of us. No phones, no faxes and no distractions." He brushed a curl from her cheek. "That"s when I realized the depth of my feelings."

"You did?"

"Absolutely. Now there"s no way I"m going to be separated from you, even for a second. Not until we"re married."

"Married?" Jamee repeated weakly. The same warm security was enfolding her, making it impossible to think clearly.

"Of course that"s what I mean. If you"ll have me."

Jamee swallowed. "Married. You and me?"

"You know the word," Ian said, with a self-effacing grin. "That thing two people do with a minister and lots of white rice."

Jamee managed a laugh. He couldn"t really be saying this to her, could he? She couldn"t allow herself to believe him, not when she wanted to so badly. "To me, lots of white rice means a meal in Chinatown."

Ian cupped her cheek, his eyes suddenly intent. "How unromantic of you. I can see I"m going to have to change all that." He turned to Duncan. "I hope you"ve left the Blue Bedroom free for us."

"Er...it"s all yours," Duncan said, sounding startled.

Jamee blinked.The depth of his feelings? Why was Ian talking like this, mentioning a shared bedroom in front of all these strangers?

And then the world narrowed to the span of Ian"s shoulders and the hot sweep of his mouth.

His hand opened, stroking the small of her back and pulling her closer.

"Kiss me," he whispered hoarsely.

At any other time Jamee would have stiffened. She wasn"t used to being on display before so many curious strangers. But desire hummed through her blood, driven by every touch of Ian"s mouth. "Now?" she whispered. "Here?" When Jamee saw the hunger in Ian"s eyes all her doubts fled. She parted her lips and kissed him, sliding her hands deep into his hair. Dimly she heard him groan as she eased her tongue sleekly over his.

Heat shimmered. Suddenly Jamee didn"t care who was watching.

When Ian lifted his head, his breath came heavy and his face was as flushed as hers. "Sorry,"

he muttered to the fascinated bystanders. "I just can"t seem to keep my hands off her."