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“And he immediately obeyed you?” He shook his head. “I don’t think so. The last time I saw you together he couldn’t let you out of his sight.” He was studying her face. “And you were thinking about marriage. What happened?”
“Life got in the way,” she said. “We had to delay quite a few things. But so did the entire world. We’ll get around to it.”
“Will you?” MacDuff asked. “That doesn’t sound like you.”
“Maybe I’ve changed.”
“Not that much. You’ve always been stubborn as a mule once you’ve made up your mind. And I tried, but I couldn’t change your mind about Caleb. All that passion…” MacDuff smiled. “He almost had you hypnotized. I believe I’ll have to study the situation. There has to be a reason. What did he do to you?”
“Nothing.” She finished her tea and set the cup in the saucer. “Caleb is almost perfect. I couldn’t be happier with our arrangement. Stop probing, MacDuff.”
“It’s my nature.” His eyes were twinkling. “And you calling Caleb almost perfect really annoys me. I prefer to be the only person given that designation. Particularly since I don’t like the tendency he has to order me around when everyone knows I’m far superior.”
“I can see the problem,” she said gravely. “But you’ll have to take it up with Caleb.”
“Sometimes that’s difficult. Where did MI6 send him this time?”
“Somewhere near the Congo I believe. I really don’t know. He doesn’t discuss his business unless it directly concerns me.”
“Until then you just sit and wait meekly for him to come back to you?”
“No, it depends how much it concerns me.” Her lips were twitching. “I might go after him. After all, one doesn’t let a man that close to perfection just wander off. There aren’t that many around.”
MacDuff flinched. “Wicked.”
She chuckled. “You deserved it. Any other questions?”
He nodded at her leather art portfolio. “When am I going to get to see the new sketch?”
“Now.” She unfastened the latch and pulled out her sketchbook. “But you might not even like it. It’s different from what I usually do. It just seemed…right. I looked out at the fog in the courtyard this morning and something seemed to be waiting for me there…”
MacDuff’s brows lifted. “Something?”
She shrugged. “Shewas waiting for me.”
“Interesting.” He added as he opened the sketchbook, “And familiar…” His expression remained impassive as he studied the black-and-white sketch of the little girl sitting on the bank of a creek. Her curly hair was tousled, and her face was full of wonder and excitement. “Charming. How old?”
“Six. Seven,” Jane said. “How do I know? It’s not as if I’ve ever seen her before. I was settling myself down by the creek and idly starting to sketch the trees when her face just appeared on the pad. The sketch was pure imagination. Which isn’t at all unusual as far as I’m concerned. Sometimes it just happens.” She frowned. “Though she looked familiar to me, too. I thought I might have seen her here at the Run. Do you recognize her? Does she live in the village?”
“Not as far as I know. I’ll ask Fergus,” he added absently as he studied the sketch. “Very familiar…maybe if I study it a little longer.” He suddenly looked up at her. “And I do like the sketch. Will you let me buy it?”
“What?” She gazed at him incredulously. “Just because she looks familiar?”
“Why not?” He smiled recklessly. “You can’t have any special attachment for it since it literally appeared out of the fog for you. I won’t cheat you. You’ll get your usual fee and I’ll get a genuine MacGuire.” He winked. “That was created on my property and might even be the child of one of my employees.”
She stared at him uncertainly. “Or might not. If she is, it would only be a reason for me to offer the sketch to her parents. It would mean something to them.”
He made a face. “Are you making this a bidding war? With anyone else I could have relied on pure selfishness. You’ve always been a great disappointment to me.”
“Money isn’t everything. Stop pretending that you think it is.” She was studying the sketch again. “She’s very young, and maybe her parents are also young. They might not have an opportunity to get a painting of her at this age again.” She brushed her index finger over the child’s cheek. “I believe I’ll call the sketch theMist Child. She looks like she was touched by the mist, and it’s still clinging to her hair. She’s so…alive.”
He sighed. “And I’ve lost out on buying the sketch unless I can prove she’s only your imagination and not one of my employees’ progeny?”
“I’d consider it,” Jane said. “But I’ve spent too many years watching Eve try to bring children home to their parents with her reconstructions to treat that search with anything but respect.” She smiled. “I’d welcome the kid being my imagination. That can be magical to an artist, too. So why don’t you ask Fergus, and you might get lucky.” She took the camera out of her art bag, shot a few photos of the sketch, and texted them to MacDuff. “But you’ll have to show him the photos. I’m taking the sketch upstairs to my room to work on a little more. Okay?”
“Okay,” he said. “As if I have a choice. I don’t blame you for not wanting to let her go. After I talk to Fergus, I’ll call you and let you know if you’re going to be rich or philanthropic.” He gave a last look at the sketch. “She does look like the mist is clinging to her…”
Jane put the sketchbook in her case. “It has potential. Maybe I’ll decide to finish it.” She headed for the arched doorway. “It isn’t often that a subject appears out of the blue to an artist with such precise detail. It’s like being given a gift.”
