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“Secretive?” His eyes twinkled as he pulled her out of the dining room and down the main hall. “No such thing. That’s entirely your imagination. I’m sharing with you now, aren’t I?” He was pulling her through the main corridor. “And you’re going to be very chagrinned that I was the one who put two and two together before you figured it out for yourself.” He turned a corner as he reached the grand gallery. “After all, you’re the artist.” He turned on the lights in the gallery and threw out his hand in a grandiose gesture toward the far wall. “Though I admit that it was a little difficult to make the connection, you can’t deny that your little lost waif does bear a resemblance to our Fiona.”
“What?” Jane was staring in bewilderment at the portrait of MacDuff’s forebear. “Fiona? I know she’s one of your favorite ancestresses, but you’re really reaching. Despite the fact that the portrait was painted hundreds of years ago, Fiona was a grown woman when it was done, not a child of six or seven. Where do you see the resemblance?”
MacDuff shrugged. “Her smile. The way she holds her head. Yes, the child’s hair is dark and not red like Fiona’s, but the expression has the same liveliness. All I can say is that I was glancing at the photo and all of a sudden, I found myself strolling down here to look at Fiona’s portrait.”
“Because you have a fixation with her,” Jane said flatly. “How long have you been trying to convince me that she looks like me and that must mean I’m part of the MacDuff clan? You even tried to get me to have a DNA test when you knew it probably wouldn’t be conclusive. Give it up. For goodness’ sake, different continents! I believe in choice, and I couldn’t be happier that Eve and Joe chose to adopt me.” She tried to make her tone kinder. “I know I’m supposed to be flattered, but I’d much rather be your friend than one of those portraits on this wall. It would smother me.”
He chuckled. “Why don’t you tell me what you really think?”
“Well, you deserve it. You never listen to me.”
“Because I believe I’m right and you’re wrong. Someday I’ll convince you. And I’m not the only one who won’t listen. You’ve refused to hear anything about Fiona or her story since that day I tried to convince you that the two of you were related. You didn’t want to believe anything that would disturb the way you felt about your adopted parents.”
“Nothing could,” Jane said. “And I didn’t want to encourage you when I wasn’t interested.”
“But you’re not usually so stubborn about at least listening. You’re an artist and that’s very close to storytelling. Fiona had a very interesting story that should intrigue you.” He continued, “For instance, did you know that our family had no idea whatever about what happened to Fiona? She disappeared from the glen one summer day and was never heard from again. An accident? A dire murder? An enemy of our house who kidnapped her to punish the clan? All the men in the glen searched for weeks trying to find some sign of her. They found nothing.” He narrowed his gaze on her face. “And that did intrigue you. See? You should have listened to me before.”
“No, I shouldn’t. It’s a sad story and naturally I was interested. But it has nothing to do with me.”
“I’ve always thought it did. It just seemed too fortuitous for a woman with Fiona’s face to appear here at the Run centuries later. You can’t blame me for wanting to explore the possibilities.” His smile faded. “I guess this may not be the right time to begin.” He glanced once more at the portrait of Fiona. “But take a glance at the sketch of the child when you get back to your room. I think it does look a little like Fiona. It’s not just because I can’t stand not being right about you.”
“I wouldn’t put it past you. Though it doesn’t really matter, does it?”
“In a way it might.” He turned away with a shrug. “It reminded me how much I value all the art in this gallery, and with you running around the property, it might not be a bad idea to get a few more guards to protect that, too.” He strode out of the gallery as he tossed back over his shoulder, “You demonstrated to me this morning that Fergus has more than enough to do.”
Then he was gone, leaving her to stare after him, puzzled. It wasn’t like MacDuff to be that abrupt. But then he’d been a little strange all through dinner and the conversation after it. She’d thought everything was normal after she’d left to go up to her room, but perhaps not. She was definitely uneasy. She’d have to go over the conversation and make certain nothing was wrong. MacDuff’s Run. MacDuff’s distinctly prickly attitude tonight toward Caleb. A few slightly off-key remarks he’d made. Take each element apart and put it back together and it might tell an entirely different story than the one she’d just heard from MacDuff…
***
MacDuff’s Run
2:40A.M.
Jane’s phone was ringing…
It didn’t wake her. She hadn’t been sleeping anyway.
She rolled over in bed, reached over and checked the ID. Caleb. That shocked her. She was immediately uneasy. Usually if she got a call from Caleb when he was on a mission, the ID was blocked. She quickly answered it. “Caleb? What’s happening?”
“You’re awake and that means I might be in trouble,” Caleb said dryly. “Should I have called you earlier?”
“Probably,” Jane said. “And I don’t know if you’re in trouble or not. I suspect it, because MacDuff has been on edge and suddenly decided he needed more guards for his gallery. You wouldn’t know anything about that?”
“I might have mentioned it. But I hoped MacDuff would be more subtle.”
“He might have been, if he hadn’t been absorbed in whatever else you probably discussed. How much trouble are you in?”
“Nothing I can’t handle.”
“I know that.” Her hand clenched on the phone. “Everyone knows that there’s nothing you can’t handle. It’s not only in your DNA, every law enforcement service on the planet has it written in your dossier. That’s why they keep calling. I only want to know what you’re handling at the moment.”
“At the moment, I’ve finished up an assignment and I’m in Paris.” He added roughly, “And what I’m handling is that things aren’t going the way I want them to at this particular instant. You’re too far away and I want to touch you so much I’m aching. Are you well?”
“Of course. Didn’t MacDuff tell you? I’m sure he has, because I’m quite certain that was the briefest part of your discussion.” She added curtly, “You checked if I was safe, then told MacDuff why he had to get more guards to make sure MacDuff’s Run stayed that way. Right?”
He was silent. “Right,” he finally said. “And then I took care of a few details of my own, like getting out of the country. While I gave MacDuff the opportunity to do what I’d asked of him.” He added ruefully, “And waited until I could talk to you privately because I knew you’d see right through anything MacDuff told you when he was trying to protect your delicate feelings.”
“And you knew I had no delicate feelings to protect,” she said ironically. “You were quite right. I only wanted to know the truth so that I could take action if I needed to.” She braced herself. “I never ask about the assignments you take because I’d only worry, and no one knows better than I do how good you are at what you do. However, I believe I have to ask this time. You were worried about MacDuff’s Run. That strikes close to home. You wouldn’t have brought me here if you hadn’t thought it was safe. Do I need to leave here? Is MacDuff or any of his employees or villagers going to be in danger because I’m here?”
