Suddenly Jamee couldn"t breathe. The stone walls closed in on her, dark and threatening. She heard the stamp of horses" hooves and felt the bite of windblown snow as a line of angry men set off to war.

She closed her eyes, gripped by a blinding sense of loss. In her head the portrait seemed to gleam, haunting in its beauty, a puzzle she should have been able to solve, but couldn"t.

She panted, fighting the heavy shadows of the past that clung to this deserted corner of the castle.

Then Ian"s hands were in her hair and she was caught against his chest. The words he said were low and almost familiar though Jamee realized they had to be Gaelic.

She made a soft, broken sound as she felt the heat of his hands, the hard, reassuring outline of his shoulders.

"Don"t go," she whispered wildly. "You won"t come back this time. I"ll wait, but you won"t return. I can hear it in the wind."

"I"m not going anywhere, Jamee. I"m sorry I brought you to see that bloody portrait."

Jamee turned her face against his chest, unable to forget the sight of Maire MacKinnon"s haunted eyes. When Ian lifted her into his arms, Jamee made no protest. The shadows were too close, too painful. She couldn"t understand their power.

Or she didn"t want to understand.

Ian carried her back to their bedroom. "You"re staying here and resting. I"ll bring your dinner up on a tray," Ian said in a tone that allowed no argument as he laid her on the big bed.

Jamee felt the lace gown ease from her shoulders. A damask coverlet slid over her. "Don"t go," she whispered, suddenly feeling unwelcome, an intruder within Dunraven"s cold, beautiful halls.

"I"ll be here," Ian said, his head bent close. "Don"t worry. And I"ll have Angus come up to watch outside our door."

But when darkness pooled round Jamee, fear pounded in her veins like the beat of angry drums and horses on a lonely winter hillside. As her head sank back, Jamee gripped Ian"s hands and felt the sad eyes of Maire MacKinnon follow her down into restless dreams.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

"WHAT DO YOU MEANthey got away again?" Ian glared at Duncan over the cluttered desk of solid marble. "You told me the constable had traced the motorcycles to a cottage up the coast."

Duncan sighed and rubbed his neck. "He tried. Fergus Montgomerie knows these hills as well as any man."

"Then what went wrong?" Ian demanded.

"The tracks simply vanished. They stopped at a cove not six kilometers from here."

"So they had a boat moored." Ian muttered a curse. "They could be anywhere by now."

"I"m afraid so."

Ian looked across the glen toward the stone circle. "Bad. Very bad."

"You"re safe here," Duncan said firmly. "No strangers will get in or out."

"There are other concerns," Ian said after a moment.

"Your vision?"

Ian"s fingers tightened on the windowsill. A tiny silver angel with lacy white wings trembled at the movement of his hand. Ian stared at the porcelain features while the room filled with silence. "I knew this time would come, Duncan. My concern now is how long I have left."

Duncan sank into the worn leather chair at his desk. "What do the doctors say?"

"The progress is unpredictable. They call it slow atrophy of the optical nerve and they can"t give any timetable, I"m afraid." He stood motionless, staring at the lacy wings of white.

Duncan"s hands slammed down against the desk. "I don"t see how you can be so bloody calm about this."

Ian smiled bitterly. "I"m not calm. I"ve just had thirty years to get used to the idea. Don"t forget, I"ve watched two relatives succumb to the Glenlyle curse already."

Duncan made a flat, angry sound. "I don"t believe in curses carried down over time, dammit.

Neither should you."

Ian turned slowly. Light filtered over his strong features, pitching half his face into shadow.

"Yet you believe in the story of the piper and the legends about Rose Cottage. I"d say you have superstitions enough of your own here at Dunraven, my friend."

Duncan sighed. "That"s different."

"Is it?" Ian stared out at the leaden waves of the sea. "History is all around us, Duncan. Like it or not, we walk with shadows. Those shadows touch us every day, in mind and in body. It"s not weakness to acknowledge that."

"But-" The phone on the desk rang shrilly, cutting off Duncan in midsentence. He swept up the phone. "Dunraven here."

He listened for several seconds and nodded. "I see. Yes, of course. He"s right here." Duncan handed over the phone. "It"s Adam Night. He wants to talk with you."

Adam spoke first. "How is my sister, Mr. McCall?"

"She"s safe."

Adam breathed in relief. "Have the men been traced yet?"

"I"m afraid they were lost. Apparently, they were very well informed about Jamee"s itinerary.

The whole operation was carefully planned. They even had alternate transport waiting to get them off the island."

Silence stretched out as Ian"s words sank in. "If you"re implying that someone close to Jamee is involved, you"re crazy. Only Bennett, William and I knew her itinerary."

"Is that so? And I suppose you also made her travel arrangements. You even purchased her tickets and arranged for her rental car. I suppose you saw that her passport was up-to-date and her immunizations in order, too," Ian continued.

"No, of course not. Nightingale Electronics has an in-house travel agency to handle all those arrangements." Adam cursed softly. "And any one of them could have slipped the information to an accomplice, is that it? That means, dozens of people could be implicated."

"Exactly," Ian said harshly. "I want you to make a list of everyone who had access to Jamee"s schedule. Friends, family and business associates, I want them all. I don"t care how casual or how innocent, each one is to be checked out. And you"re going to have to be discreet. Until we have more information, we have to assume that any one of them might be involved."

"There"s one other possibility. We"ve been checking it out from our end as soon as we heard."

There was a rustle of papers and Adam cleared his throat. "One of the men involved in Jamee"s kidnapping seven years ago had a brother. He was only a boy at the time, but the two were very close. He was recently in jail for passing forged checks, but he was released for good behavior. After that, he vanished. We only found his location because he was wanted for back alimony payments. According to his ex-wife, he was headed for Scotland."

"Then go get him," Ian said curtly.

"We tried. The people at your end haven"t exactly been helpful. Apparently two pieces of paperwork were missing, and they refused to order a trace until every document was received."

"I"ll put all the resources of Security International on it," Ian said. "Our government contacts are good, but our police connections are even better," he said with a grim smile. "We"ll have the man within three days." He touched the knotted length of rope in his pocket. "I have a feeling we"ll find out that he or one of his compatriots has a Navy background."

"What makes you say that?" Adam asked.

Ian pulled the knotted rope from his pocket, studying it silently. He tested the cut end with one finger. "Because I found a knotted length of rope in the front seat of their car and I doubt it was a coincidence. Have your people check to see if the kidnapper"s brother served in the Navy."

"I"ll get right on it. Any fingerprints on the rope?"

"Rope is a notoriously bad medium for oil impressions."

Three thousand miles away Adam Night cursed graphically. "Should I send you some backup, Glenlyle? Maybe even come myself? I"ve done some tracking in my day," he said tightly.

"The moors can"t be any rougher than the high desert."

"That won"t be necessary. Your presence would only add to Jamee"s anxiety."

Adam made a sound of disbelief. "She obviously trusts you. You must be amazingly persuasive, Glenlyle. The last man assigned to her security lasted about two hours, as I recall."

"Jamee"s no fool. She knows this is the real thing, not some vague possibility. Besides, we have an understanding. I do whatever is necessary to keep her safe."

"And what does Jamee do?" Adam asked curiously.

"Jamee...gets irritated, acts stubborn and becomes thoroughly aggravating," Ian said. But there was a smile in his voice he didn"t bother to hide.

"I see," Adam Night said slowly. There was a pause. "Keep me posted. My brothers and I are at your disposal. If you feel it"s advisable, we can leave at a moment"s notice."

"I appreciate that," Ian said, "but to be blunt, right now your participation here would only complicate things."

"You"re certain?"

"I"m paid to be certain," Ian said. "Besides, I have a few surprises of my own planned."

"Such as?"

"I"d rather not go into detail," Ian said calmly. "The fewer people who know, the better."

"Dammit, Glenlyle, you"re not suggesting that one ofus is involved?"

"I"m not suggesting anything, Night. I"m simply doing my job the best way I know how. And if you need to get in touch with Jamee or me, you can arrange it through Duncan." His face was hard as he put down the phone.

"We won"t be down for dinner," Ian said to Duncan. "Make our apologies, will you?"

"Of course. You both could use some rest."

"Jamee sleeps even more fitfully than I do," Ian muttered. "Duncan, what can you tell me about the portrait of Maire MacKinnon in the north wing?"

"Not much. It was commissioned by her father just before he announced her betrothal to one of the Forbes clan. But she vanished a fortnight before the wedding was to take place. She was never seen again. Her father believed..." Duncan looked uncomfortable.

"Believed what?"

"You know there was no love lost between MacKinnon and McCall in those days. Her father claimed her death was your clan"s doing. I"m sure it was just the ravings of a grief-stricken man. The legends about the curse laid on your family could have begun from that tragedy."

Ian shook his head. "Something about the portrait bothered Jamee. Hell, it did a lot more than bother her. She acted like she"d seen a ghost."

"The result of stress?" Duncan suggested. "This has to be bloody hard on her."

"Maybe." Ian strode to the door. "I"ve left Angus outside our room. Until this is over, I want one of us with her at all times. The backup team could handle the daily protection, but I don"t want her to feel anxious around a stranger."

"Very thoughtful of you," Duncan said slowly. "Does this mean, you might actually be ready to admit your feelings for Jamee?"

Ian"s hand closed hard over the oak door frame. "Right now any feelings I have are a liability.

They could throw off my timing and cloud my judgment. Either thing would put Jamee further at risk." His hand fell to his side. "I can"t, Duncan."

"Can"t or won"t?"

Ian made a bitter sound and found himself cursing that he hadn"t met Jamee Night five years earlier. "Sometimes the two are the same."

THE HILLS ROLLED AWAYto the north, brown merging into a deeper blue beneath gray, racing clouds. As he stood at the high-arched window in the Blue Bedroom, Ian saw the remnants of an ancient barrow built centuries ago by the first MacKinnon inhabitants of Dunraven. Somewhere beyond that, in the curve of the highest hill, lay the old stone circle where he and Jamee had hidden from their pursuers. Everywhere the hand of time lay heavy.

Here, as at Glenlyle, history walked among them with all its shadows and the hint of old voices.

For a moment, colors flashed before Ian"s eyes. He watched the clouds blur for a split second while pain raced across his forehead.

The curse.

For ten generations the legend had dogged the McCalls. There was always the awareness in the eyes of the villagers at Glenlyle, although they worked hard to hide it whenever Ian was present. Every man and woman knew the story and the curse laid down so long ago.

Again the pain tore at his eyes, setting off streaks of color while the words of the curse echoed in his mind.

On the first night of the first moon of the new year, the laird of Glenlyle shall see no more. The pain he has dealt shall return full force until his eyes are hollows of darkness.

There was no shaking or evading the old curse. Ian had seen too many of his ancestors stricken in their prime by the illness that had no cure.

His turn would come soon.

Clouds billowed over the northern hills, and Ian felt a wisp of cold that always struck when he thought of the ancient curse. For generations, the blindness had come to every eldest son, penance for some ancient betrayal of a local woman.

Ian ran a hand over his eyes, wondering when the next wave of pain would strike. Twice in the last week his vision had blurred, and each episode was more severe than the last.

The reason was lost in the mists that veiled the glen. Some said that generations before, a laird of Glenlyle had lain with his lover inside a circle of stones, pledging his faith to her for eternity. But the world had intruded and the laird had cast his eyes higher in marriage. The lover was betrayed. One moonlit midnight, she had climbed to the cliffs above the sea where the water churned against the rocky beach. There, within sight of Glenlyle"s dark walls, she had thrown herself from the highest ridge, laying her curse on the eldest Glenlyle son for eternity.