Jamee reached for the towel draped over a nearby chair. With every movement she dared him to watch. "If I rely on you, I rely on you for everything. Fair is fair, isn"t it?" Slowly, she stood up, every inch of her body outlined in bubbles.

Ian swallowed. He averted his gaze as water sloshed gently and bubbles streaked her bare, wet skin.

His mouth tightened. "Don"t do this, Jamee. Don"t make it harder."

"Oh, there"s nothing hard about it. We"re glued at the hip, remember? Just business."

"What do you want from me, Jamee?"

The question brought her up short. Want? She wanted not to want him. She wanted not to feel a blinding wave of relief wash over her whenever he was nearby.

She wanted not to care.

Jamee glared at the exquisite damask walls and realized that her hands were shaking. She admitted the truth to herself then. She wanted the laughter and the camaraderie they had shared at the cottage.

She wanted Ian"s rakish smile.

His gruff laugh.

His touch that made her pulse quicken with instant yearning. Jamee wanted those things very badly.

But it was business now, and at any second, Ian could be hurt because he was protecting her.

"I want you to quit. I want you replaced. Today."

"Forget it," he said flatly. "I don"t back out of a promise, Jamee. Not ever."

BROAD SHOULDERS.Powerful back. Lean hips outlined beneath a towel draped low and sinfully tight.

It was ten minutes later and Ian stood before the mirror, fresh from the shower.

Jamee eased open the door, propped a silk-covered arm against the wall and drank in the sight of him. Water gleamed on his arms, outlining full muscles. He swung around, frowning.

"What do you want?"

"To get something straight," she purred. "I"ll go along with your masquerade, Ian. I"ll follow your leads and I"ll take your cues because it"s for my safety." She tilted her head and glared at him. "Understood?"

"Understood." Ian"s eyes narrowed, full of wariness.

"But only until someone can be sent from London to replace you." Jamee smiled with icy calm.

"I"m not going to request it, Jamee."

"No? I think you will. Because there"s one more thing." She stepped closer, caught Ian"s face between her hands and pulled him down to her. Her lips opened, warm and searching, while her tongue tantalized his. Jamee put a lifetime of hunger into the kiss, an eternity of dreams.

She had to make him back down somehow. He was a professional and a man of honor. He wouldn"t allow his personal feelings to compromise his client"s safety.

He stiffened, then his damp palms slid over her back. His desire was instant and unmistakable through the towel.

But he didn"t hold her, not even then. "It won"t work."

Jamee tried to ignore her own racing pulse. "Yes, it will. Your honor won"t allow you to stay."

"I might surprise you."

"I don"t think so," Jamee murmured. "And don"t bother to pretend it"sonly business between us, McCall, because that wet towel tells us both that"s a lie." As she pulled the door shut behind her, Jamee heard what sounded like three feet of wet cotton slapping against the tub.

Then a brush cracked against the wall.

She waited for the count of five. Unsettling him was her only tactic in this war she had begun.

"By the way," she called sweetly, "lunch will be served in twenty minutes. The towel is nice, but you might want to change. I suggest something a little less...revealing."

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

IAN PACEDback and forth across Duncan"s study. He dug his fingers through his hair, scowling.

Some operative he made. He couldn"t see Jamee"s laughing face without wanting her hands on him. He couldn"t watch her walk across a room without envisioning her body naked and restless while he made her blood sing.

Ian finally accepted the truth. He"d been in turmoil from the first moment he had set eyes on Jamee Night. Even now, while he fought to remain controlled and detached, he couldn"t get the thought of her soft lips and trembling hands out of his mind. She would sheathe him perfectly, all silk and heat beneath his hands.

All woman.

He slammed his fist down against the desk and cursed.Jamee was not a woman, she was a client. It was bloody well time for him to follow hisown rules, which meant head straight and eyes forward.

He loosened his tie and cursed. Just business, that"s the way it would be from now on. In his eyes, Jamee Night was no longer a woman.

She waswork.

He looked up and saw Duncan standing in the doorway.

"At ease, McCall. You can relax now."

"Iam relaxed," Ian snapped.

"Sure you are," Dunraven said knowingly. "Almost as relaxed as you were two years ago when we were about to go in after the DEA agent"s child who was being held by the cartel in lieu of two plutonium devices and a SCUD missile."

Ian drew a harsh breath. "I look that bad, do I?"

"Worse." Duncan sank into the chair before the fire. "What"s bothering you this time?"

"Nothing much. I have a pair of kidnappers I can"t trace, an informant on the inside who"s too damned good and a client who"s driving me steadily insane. Add it all up, and I"m having one hell of a week. Why should anything bebothering me?"

"Sorry I asked," Duncan muttered. "Still, we"re getting close. The constable has put out an alert in the village and that pair from the cottage will turn up soon. They won"t get far on foot with their tires nearly flat."

Ian stared out at the dark outline of the hills above the burned-out cottage. "I"m not so sure they"ll try."

Duncan frowned. "Do you mean they"ll go to ground somewhere in the area?"

"Maybe. Or they could have other transport waiting nearby. They"ve been bloody well equipped this far, and somehow I think their tricks aren"t over." Ian turned from the window.

"Any word on that telephone number I found in their car?"

"It"s a Glasgow exchange. Your people at Security International tell me it appears to be a popular pub just off Buchanan Street."

"Grand. That narrows the search. Only about ten thousand people could have been in and out during the last month."

Duncan made a flat, hard sound. "Something has to break soon, Ian. Until then, what can we do to help?"

Ian rubbed the knot at the back of his neck. "Just keep your eyes open. I take it your usual security is in place?"

MacKinnon nodded. "Upgraded every three months. Even that ghostly ancestor of yours isn"t going to slip past the gate without setting off an alarm or two."

"I hope you"re right," Ian said tightly. "Just see that no one new comes to stay. I"ve made an initial check on everyone who"s here, including the models and the photo crew from the U.S.

Everyone seems to pass so far, but I"m still waiting for photo identification on each one."

"You can"t really think that-"

"I don"t take chances, Duncan. I never have." Ian shrugged. "Something feels...wrong. I just wish I could be certain Jamee was safe here."

Ian ran a hand across his eyes. For a second, light blurred, then exploded in a flash. The colors in the room glowed and then faded slowly.

"What"s bothering you?" Duncan growled. "There"s something else."

Ian steepled his fingers against his forehead. "I suppose you have a right to know." He swallowed, feeling a hollow pain at his chest. "It appears that...I"m going blind."

Duncan"s hands closed tightly on the arm of his chair. "Good God, like your father. You"re certain?"

Ian laughed dryly. "It"s not the sort of thing a person makes mistakes about. I"ve been having symptoms for the last year. Blurred vision, headaches, that sort of thing. I told myself it was just the old Glenlyle legends that made me imagine things. But I had a battery of tests last week, and the results were quite conclusive, believe me."

"Damn the tests," Duncan hissed. "Is therenothing that can be done?"

Hadn"t Ian asked himself the same question a thousand times? "Apparently not, according to three specialists I"ve seen. It"s some sort of long-term degeneration of the optic nerve.

Unfortunately, the disease appears to be a genetic feature of the Glenlyles. You know that my father had it, as did his father. I didn"t want to take this job, but Adam Night is a hard person to refuse." Ian"s eyes darkened. "So is his sister."

Duncan took a slow breath. "Do you know how long before..."

"Before my vision starts going?" Ian shrugged. "Maybe a year. Maybe ten. The art of prognostication is best left to psychics and card-carrying Theosophists, I"m told." He winced at the bitterness in his voice. "Sorry, Duncan. I"m being a bloody fool and I"m sorry. I only pray I can see this through. I don"t want Jamee to be hurt."

"She doesn"t know about your eyes?"

"Of course not. And I mean for it to stay that way," Ian said flatly. "She already wants me replaced."

"Why?"

"Because she"s afraid I"ll be hurt. The woman is trailed by professionals, burned out of a cottage, and she worries aboutme. "

"I see," Duncan said slowly. "And what do you plan to do now?"

"The backup team is expected in two hours. I want them fully briefed about the cottage and given what little description I could get of the pair with the four-wheel-drive vehicle." Ian paced the room, his eyes narrowed. "I want to be notified as soon as those verified photos of the people here at the castle start coming in. The more problems we can rule out, the better."

"What you said to Jamee about marriage was just for the sake of the others, I take it."

Ian stopped pacing and shoved one hand into the pocket of his jacket. "Of course it was." He pulled out his Browning and studied it. "She"s a client, Duncan. Even if I did have feelings for her, I"d be honor-bound to ignore them."

"If?" Duncan prodded, one brow raised.

"What are you getting at?"

"Just tell me this," Duncan said calmly. "What if Jameeweren"t a client? What if she was just another beautiful tourist eager to soak up a little Scottish culture?"

"I don"t play what if," Duncan."

"Maybe it"s time you did," his old friend said slowly. "Otherwise you both could lose something very rare and special." Duncan strode to his desk before Ian could answer. "Now, I think we"d better put through a call to Jamee"s brother and fill him in on what"s happened."

JAMEE LOOKEDover the broad staircase to a towering Christmas tree decorated with shimmering silver bells. Holly covered the oak door and tiny white lights blinked along the Great Hall"s massive oak rafters. An air of expectation filled the breathless quiet.

Jamee fingered the box holding the design Duncan and Kara had commissioned for Dunraven"s stately halls. She had been overjoyed to receive the request, but now that she was finally here, she wasn"t certain her weaving could live up to the magic of this ancient home. It was clear to her now why her parents had loved Dunraven Castle.

She found Kara and another woman stringing holly in the foyer. Angus McTavish was beside them, very dashing in a bright tartan kilt and a black turtleneck.

"I don"t think I"ve ever seen so many men in kilts before," Jamee said.

"Get used to it," Kara answered. "After a while, their scrawny legs actually begin to look rather attractive."

Jamee tried not to laugh as Angus scowled. She took a deep breath and turned to Kara. "This is for you and Duncan. I hope you like it." She held out her box.

"So soon? We only spoke to you three months ago. Nicholas Draycott told us that it took ages for you to finish a design."

"This time an idea came almost immediately. Of course, if you don"t like this piece, I can try something else. I"m already working on another weaving, something far more colorful. I have it upstairs if you"d like to-"

Kara"s gasp cut through Jamee"s anxious explanations. "Jamee, it"s-it"s-"

Jamee"s heart sank. "You don"t like it."

"Not like it? It"s incredible," Kara said in a rush, cradling the heavy midnight-blue weaving Jamee had finished only a week earlier. "I see a dozen shades and textures of blue here, a blend of alpaca, mohair, even raw silk. But what are these?"

Jamee fingered the tiny knots of gold that glimmered through layers of blue fiber. "Silk stars.