Iris Johansen - Eight Days To Live

“She assures me she cannot.”

“But do you believe her?”

“I believe she thinks she cannot.”

“That’s no answer.”

“You want an answer?” MacDuff smile was suddenly reckless. “I think there’s a chance that someday she’ll be able to tell me where to find it. Look, Jane didn’t just happen into my life. She came here because of all those dreams she was having about my ancestress, Cira. Yes, she was a student and fascinated by stories of Cira and her escape from Herculaneum during the Vesuvius eruption. But that wasn’t what drew her here. It was the dreams. And in those dreams there was a chest of antique gold coins. It figured prominently in them.”

“But her dreams didn’t tell her where the chest was hidden.”

“Because Jane didn’t care about the gold. I care about the gold. I won’t let my family home go to strangers.” The passion vibrated in his voice.

“But dreams, MacDuff?” Her brows lifted mockingly. “I wouldn’t judge you to be one to pay attention to such nonsense.”

“Is it nonsense? I don’t believe you think that’s true. No one knows Jane the way you do, Eve.”

She was silent. “I know that sometimes she’s had dreams that were… strange. Most of them had to do with the past and people she had never met. But she hasn’t had any dreams like that for a long time that I know about.” She smiled faintly. “And my hardheaded Jane would deny with her last breath that they were any different from the run-of-the-mill dreams you or I have.”

“Then I’ll deny it for her. You’re right; I’m not a man who believes in foolish flights of imagination. But this is different. Those dreams started a chain reaction that not only enabled us to kill that bastard Thomas Reilly but brought Jock home to heal and become whole again. That’s good enough for me. There has to be a reason that happened. I know that Jane was sent to help me keep MacDuff’s Run from going out of the family. Someday she’ll understand that, too.”

“And in the meantime it suits you to keep her alive,” Eve said dryly.

“No, I’ll keep her alive because she’s deserving and a part of my family. I have feeling for her,” MacDuff said curtly. “The gold is a separate matter.” He stared her in the eye. “And I wouldn’t have been honest with you if I hadn’t intended you to share what I said with Jane. I know how close you are. Tell her what you wish. It’s not going to make a difference. I think in her heart she realizes that she’ll have to come back and finish our story. Soon. I have a feeling that it’s coming around full circle.” He was silent, then asked, “Do you wish to know anything else?”

She studied him for a moment. He was full of arrogance and contradictions, but he was being honest with her. He was no threat to Jane even though he might want to lure her here for his own purposes. She had wanted to make sure of this piece of the puzzle. She was already feeling very powerless stuffed away in this castle. “You really believe Jane is your distant cousin?”

“You saw the portrait of Fiona.” He smiled. “But I think she resembles the woman she was having dreams about much more.”

Eve smiled as she remembered that she’d speculated on that very possibility with Jane earlier. “Cira, who founded your clan?”

He nodded. “Anything else?”

“Yes, one more question.”

“What?”

She made a face. “Will you take me to that tower you’ve given me as my studio? You said it was close to my room? I need to get to work. It’s the only way I can keep myself from jumping on a plane and going to Jane.”

“JANE.”

The call was soft, invading her sleep with a gentle whisper.

“Jane.”

More persistent, but still only a quiet summons.

But the summons was there and she reluctantly turned over and opened her eyes.

And was instantly jarred wide-awake.

Seth Caleb was sitting in a chair only a few feet from her bed.

“What the hell!” She reached over and switched on the lamp on the bedside table.

Caleb smiled. “I suppose you had to turn on the lamp, but I really prefer the moonlight streaming in that window. You look wonderful by moonlight, Jane.”

“What are you doing here?” She sat up in bed and glared at him. “Dammit, I locked that door.”

“And it was a very good lock. Better than most hotels. It took me longer than I thought it would.”

“You could have called me from the lobby. You didn’t have to invade my room.”

He shrugged. “It seemed easier. I’m a hunter.”

“But you’re not hunting me.”

“Not at the moment.” He smiled as he rose to his feet and picked up her terry robe draped over the chair. “Besides, I wanted to see how well protected you were here at the inn. I’m good, but so are some of the men in the Sang Noir.” He handed her the robe. “Where’s Jock Gavin?”

“Next door.” She took the robe and slipped it over her short T-shirt. She immediately felt less vulnerable, and she had an idea that he had known it would have that effect. “And no one knows I’m here at the inn.” She frowned. “How did you know about Jock?”

“Since you were so miserly with information I had to take it upon myself to find out what was going on. I just added it to my search-and-probe agenda.”

“I told you all you needed to know.”

“But not all I wanted to know. There’s a huge difference.” His gaze wandered around the room. “No coffeemaker. Too bad. I could use a cup. It’s been a long day.”

She glanced at the clock on the nightstand-3:40 A.M. “Then you went overtime. It’s the middle of the night.”

“I don’t mind overtime when the adrenaline is flowing.”

She could almost see the adrenaline electrifying him. Lord, he was so alive . His dark eyes were glittering, and she felt as if she’d get an actual shock if she came near him. Yet that didn’t stop her from wanting to reach out and touch him, absorb that shock until it became part of her. She had forgotten that sheer energy and magnetism that was like a living force surrounding him. Perhaps she had wanted to forget it. “And is the adrenaline flowing, Caleb?”

“Oh, yes.” He was prowling around the room and stopped at the table by the window. He picked up her sketchbook and gazed down at the sketch she’d been working on last night. “Is this Gavin?”

“Yes.”

“Interesting. You have him looking out at the world with a mixture of wonder and cynicism. Complicated. But then considering his background, Gavin would probably be exceptionally complicated.”

“He’s a good man,” she said fiercely. “Complicated? He went through hell and back. He was lucky to survive with his sanity. Yes, he has a right to be complicated.”

“You’re passionately defensive of him.” He gazed at her thoughtfully. “And he risked his life to keep you alive. But he wasn’t in your bed tonight, so the relationship must be different than I first suspected.” He dropped the sketch back on the table. “Good.”

“It’s none of your business what our relationship is,” she said. “The only thing I asked you to do was to find Weismann. You didn’t have to come here. Go find him.”

“I’ve already started. You said you wanted a report. I’m here to give it to you.”

“Already?”

“You were in a hurry.” He dropped down in the chair again. “And so was I. I didn’t like the fact that anyone had you on the run. It felt like a personal offense.”

She gestured impatiently. “What did you find out about him?”

“I interviewed two members of the Sang Noir. One of them, Sevelli, was marginally helpful. He wasn’t one of the core group, but he was able to fill me in on the situation surrounding you as he knew it.”