"Ian, what if-"

Ian gripped Jamee"s hand. "No what-ifs. That"smy job, remember. Do you still trust me?"

Jamee smiled crookedly. "I"ve trusted you since I first wrestled you to the ground on the cliff.

There was never a question of trusting you, Ian." Her fingers tightened on his. She faced the beach, almost as if afraid for him to read her face. "If something should happen-if this goes wrong, I want you to know that I..." She swallowed. "I"ve seen things differently, been touched and changed by knowing you. No matter what you say, I"ll never lose those memories and I"ll never want to." She spoke defiantly, her face to the cold sea.

Ian wished they were alone so that he could kiss the pulse that raced at her throat and let his fingers spill through her long hair.

A line of color shifted through his eyes and made his temples throb.

So little time.

"Nothing is going to happen, Jamee. It all ends here." His eyes hardened as they moved to the door of the pub. Duncan stood, knob in hand, waiting for Ian, his face tense with expectation.

Ian nodded faintly.

It had begun.

THE VILLAGERSwatched with avid curiosity as the Laird of Dunraven and his vibrant American wife finished some last-minute holiday shopping with their friends. It was late in the morning now, and the sun slanted golden over the glen as Lady Dunraven"s red-haired visitor excused herself from the hubbub and made her way alone to the pub"s side door that led out to the beach.

She stood for a moment, shivering in the wind that gusted up off the sea. Tugging her scarf closer about her head, she started down the beach.

It was said she was a weaver from America. It was said she was a millionaire.

It was said she was a strange, free-spirited creature who liked to be alone.

Gossip traveled fast in an isolated Highland village, especially when the well-loved laird was concerned. Not a few eyes watched Jamee move over the hard-packed sand, though all were too polite to be obvious about it.

She moved on toward the headland that jutted like a brown arm out into the sea, and as she moved out of sight, interest faded. Conversation turned to the latest scandal in Edinburgh and what would happen when the North Sea oil finally ran out.

Only one pair of eyes watched Jamee then.

He darted from the pine trees, his footfalls muffled by the sand. The hard wind carried away his victim"s cry as he bore down upon her. She turned and ran in a swirl of skirts, her scarf awry.

Her pursuer seized her roughly and jerked the heavy wool from her face. As he looked down, his eyes hardened in shock.

He pushed free, cursing. His boat was moored just beyond the headland and it would be only a few minutes" work to escape.

In a whine of wheels a battered green Land Rover stormed over the hill. Duncan wrenched at the wheel, plowing straight for the beach, cutting off the fleeing figure in black. The car was still moving when Ian shoved open his door and tackled Jamee"s pursuer at a run.

The fight was savage and silent. Ian lunged and sent the man reeling, but he quickly recovered.

They circled in silence, each waiting for the other to strike. Ian closed in.

Dropping back, the man dug at his outer pocket. He was raising a revolver when Ian"s savage kick knocked him sideways. His arm spun upward and three bullets whined past, zinging harmlessly into the sand.

Two savage uppercuts laid the man unconscious, crumpled beneath Ian"s panting form.

Slowly, Ian rose to his knees.

Behind them, Duncan reached down to the figure in sandy skirts. "I hope you"re all right."

Hidoshi Sato gave a crooked grin and pulled off his red wig. "Most fun I"ve had in months,"

he panted, pushing to his feet and wiping the sand off his hands. "I must have been fairly convincing."

"It was an amazing likeness. The bastard didn"t realize until he had you in his grip."

The pair started down the beach, where Ian stood scowling over the prone figure of Jamee"s would-be kidnapper. There was a loud honk, followed by the whine of a siren. A police car charged toward them.

Five minutes later, it was done. The man was handcuffed and turned over to the constable and the Security International backup team for interrogation.

"I"m nearly positive he was one of the men I saw at the cottage," Ian said. "That means, one down and at least one more to catch."

"He"ll talk in custody, don"t worry." Duncan watched the car pull away, sirens droning.

Ian frowned. "If not, I"ll have a private visit with him. You can be sure I"ll have names by the time I"m done."

"Right now, there"s nothing more you can do, Ian. Meanwhile, that woman of yours must be terrified where she"s hiding in the inn."

Ian turned slowly. He shook his head as if trying to rid himself of unpleasant thoughts.

"You"re right."

But there were still too many loose threads warning Ian that the danger wasn"t over yet.

"YOU BE CAREFULwith those oak barrels, hear? That"s eight-year-aged malt whiskey you"ve got before you." Angus McTavish stood with his hands on his hips, overseeing the movement of a dozen huge barrels of whiskey to the van that would carry them from the Dunraven distillery across the bay and then overland to Edinburgh. The workmen sweated and strained under the approving eyes of the villagers, who knew there would be an extra bonus this year for a magnificent product.

When all the barrels were loaded, Angus shut the doors carefully and locked them, then nodded at Duncan. "I"ll see them safely where they"re bound, never fear."

"I know you will, McTavish." Duncan turned as Kara appeared, closely followed by Ian and Jamee.

Or whatlooked like Ian and Jamee. It was hard to see beneath the new tartan hats they both wore.

Duncan swung open the door of his Land Rover and climbed inside. "Come on, you two." He joined his wife in the car. They watched Angus climb slowly over the hill, the van heavy beneath the cargo it carried. Only when he disappeared on the road that led east did Duncan start home to Dunraven.

ANGUS PULLED TO THE SIDEof the road on the mainland. There were no watchful eyes on the bare moor stretching around them. "You two can come out now."

As he spoke, wood grated on metal. One of the oak lids popped open and Jamee"s head appeared. "I thought you"d never give the signal," she said, her face flushed.

"Never mind then, lass. The bounder"s off in custody now. You did your job beautifully. So did Hidoshi."

The adjoining lid pulled free. Ian appeared, his shoulders covered with sawdust. "Everything quiet here?"

Angus nodded. "Perfectly as planned."

They settled into the front seat of the van and then the motor rose as Angus threw the vehicle back into gear.

The old man laughed softly and thumped the steering wheel. "Next stop, Glenlyle Castle."

CHAPTER TWENTY.

BROWN AND GOLD, the hills lay dappled beneath frothy banks of clouds. The grass was low, sheared by generations of sheep who roamed these lonely moors. In summer, wildflowers exploded over the glen and the air was bright with birdsong. But now in the far side of December, life moved more slowly, with an air of age and solemnity that befitted the close of the year.

Jamee stared from one side of the van to the other as they drove north, fascinated by every detail of the landscape, from the high, tree-covered cliffs to the narrow silver streams that spilled through dark crags.

Not quite two hours had passed when an arch of stone jutted above the horizon. Then another and another. Jamee sat forward, her breath catching as Glenlyle Castle soared into view, parapets and portcullis climbing across the rugged hillside.

"Those will be the north towers," Angus said. "Remember the time when you and Duncan hung out a sheet and tried to climb down?"

Jamee looked at Ian. He sat very still, his hands clenched. His eyes held something like regret-or terrible anticipation.

Jamee understood a small part of his torment, aware that he was going home to a place he loved, to people he loved, but unsure how much longer he would be seeing any of it.

She touched his hand. "It"s still home, Ian," she whispered. "Nothing can change that."

There was a movement at his jaw. "No," he said softly. "Home. You"re probably right."

As they rounded a bend, a massive square tower rose before them. Warm golden stone stretched between four higher towers, each capped with black slate roofs in graceful curves.

The setting itself was part of Glenlyle"s beauty, vast acres of dark green hills covered with hardwood and pines that ran down to the very foot of the castle.

"Amazing, isn"t it?" Ian spoke softly. Emotion hardened his voice.

"Very, very beautiful," Jamee agreed.

A flag snapped at a high mast on the castle"s roof. "They"re welcoming you home." Angus raised one hand to point. "Duncan must have called ahead and told them you were coming."

Something dark swept through Ian"s eyes. "The fewer people who know we"re here, the better."

Angus frowned. "That brute is in custody and has already begun to talk. Between his information and the fingerprints that were finally lifted from the kidnappers" vehicle, his cohorts should be rounded up before long."

Ian said something low in Gaelic.

After a moment, Angus nodded.

"What?" Jamee said tightly. "What are you two talking about?"

Ian swung an arm behind her and planted a noisy kiss on her mouth. "Only about what the people at Glenlyle are going to say when they see the beautiful woman who will be on my arm."

Before Jamee had a chance to be nervous at the thought of a welcoming committee, she was distracted by the raised outline of a circular wall only a few feet from the castle gate. She sat forward, her blood hammering. "Stop here, Angus."

Before either man could speak, she opened her door and scrambled up the tangled, overgrown path to the rim of the hill.

Angus frowned. "My lord, isn"t that-"

"Yes, it is," Ian said grimly. He started out after Jamee, slipping over the damp stones that had not known the print of human feet for months. As he scuffled up the hill behind her, a nest of birds broke from cover and exploded through the azure sky.

Ian tried to tell himself it meant nothing, but the lurch in his pulse told him differently. So did the pain that spiraled through his forehead as light shifted before his eyes.

Blind Laird"s Rock.

He found Jamee bent over the broken wall of stone. She stared beyond, to the edge of the rocky cliffs and the sea raging far below.

Ian hadn"t been here in fifteen years. Or was it twenty? He tried to stop the pressing images at the edges of his mind, an oppressive weight centuries old. "Let"s go back to the car."

She didn"t move, staring out to the sea. "What is this place? It pulls me, draws me. I can"t say why."

Ian remembered the last time he had been here. Leaden sheets of rain had lashed the water beneath prongs of lightning. The next day, his father had lost his sight.

"It"s called Blind Laird"s Rock," he said tensely. "Legend says that a local woman laid a curse on the eldest Glenlyle son, then threw herself off the cliffs down there."

Jamee"s gaze fell to the sharp rocks below. A shudder went through her. "You don"t really believe that, do you? Your eyes weren"t affected by some half-forgotten superstition."

"I"d be careful what you say about superstitions," Ian said softly. "We live with superstition every day here in the Highlands. Every tor has its tales, and the glens are filled with ghosts."

There was a hammering behind his eyes. His whole body tightened in rebellion at being in this cursed spot. "Let"s go, Jamee," he ordered.

Her hand trailed along the weathered stone. "There"s something here, Ian. Something I should understand..." She moved slowly around the ruined wall. She was near the edge when her foot struck a loose stone and she staggered.

Ian lunged, pulling her back from the cliff edge. "Leave this alone, Jamee. Imagined or not, the curse is part of Glenlyle and part of me. I didn"t come here to do bout with my past."

"Then whatdid you come here for, Ian?"

His fingers tangled in her hair. "To keep you safe. To make you happy...for as long as I can."

He turned her back toward the narrow trail. "Now, will you stop asking questions and get into the car? After all," he added, linking his arm through hers, "it appears that there are a lot of people waiting to meet you."

THEY WERE LINED UPin two rows, men with calm, keen eyes and women with bright cheeks. None of them was smiling, Jamee noticed.

She breathed heavily as if she was preparing to run a gauntlet. "Who exactly did you tell them I was, Ian?"

"A textile designer I met in Edinburgh. We discussed the statues at the Royal Museum and I invited you out for tea."

Jamee smiled slightly. "Did I like you?"

"You adored me," Ian said. "Tea stretched into dinner and dinner stretched into dancing until dawn."

"And was I a good dancer?"