His face was carved in stone. Obviously, she had offended him. She modified her voice. “Your brother? That would be Alex Hepburn, wouldn’t it? He’s some kind of policeman?”
“He’s attached to the Home Office as a special agent.”
She had no idea what that meant, and the coldness of his response did not encourage her to press for answers. She did, however, remember something Juliet had told her about the Hepburn brothers, that they had foiled a plot to assassinate the queen. Official channels had suppressed the story so that only a few insiders knew the details.
“Any other objections?” he asked in the same cold tone.
His hauteur was beginning to grate on her. She lifted her chin. “We’re going to become inseparable?”
“I won’t let you out of my sight. And if I have to leave you for any reason, I’ll make sure you are well protected.”
“How am I going to explain your presence to my family?”
He gave a negligent shrug. “Let’s sleep on it. I’m sure something will occur to us.”
There were a million questions buzzing inside her head, but they stilled when he thrust something into her hand. “What’s this?”
“The note that Will received. Dalziel found it inside the book Will was reading.”
Her heart picked up speed as she smoothed out the note and silently read the message: “Psychiaters are the spawn of the devil.”
“Does it look familiar?” he asked.
She nodded. “The script is the same.”
He took the note back. “My brother will want to see this,” he said. “Was the note you received in a similar vein? I ask because Alex will want to know what it said, to compare it to any others he may find.”
It seemed pointless to conceal what she was beginning to see might be a crucial clue. “It said, ‘In Scotland, we burn witches.’ ”
He didn’t look shocked or puzzled or curious.
“Alex will know what to look for when he arrives at the clinic,” was his only comment.
She didn’t know whether she was drooping with relief or fatigue. All she knew was that she wanted her bed.
He got up. “Through there,” he said, pointing to a door, “is the bathroom and water closet.” His eyes filled with laughter. “We don’t want a repeat of what happened at the cottage when you crept off to the privy without telling me. Your clothes are in the wardrobe.”
She was mulling over his words, trying to make sense of them, but she couldn’t seem to think straight. “I don’t have any clothes except what I’m standing up in. “
“Oh, I took the liberty of asking Mrs. Cardno if you could borrow some of Juliet’s things. She was happy to oblige.”
She took exception to the way he had taken charge. It would have been nice to be consulted. She set her jaw. “Has it occurred to you that Juliet might not feel the same way?”
“Juliet would not be so small-minded. The bed is yours. Macduff and I will make do with the floor.”
Finally, his words made sense. Appalled, she burst out, “I can’t stay here! This is your room. What will the maid say when she arrives to light the fire?”
“This room is supposed to be unoccupied. No one will come to light the fire. Kate, I’m not letting you go back to your own room. It’s not safe. Can’t you see that?”
He had a point. “What about my maid? Elsie will have a fit if she can’t find me.”
“Dalziel will tell her about the switch. When you wake up in the morning, she’ll be here.”
Arguing with this man was useless. She really, really hated take-charge men, even when they were in the right.
She was hardly aware that he’d lit a candle for her to take to the bathroom. Fatigue was beginning to dull her mind. She’d been tossed around by so many emotions, she hardly knew whether she was coming or going.
When she studied her reflection in the mirror above the sink, she shook her head. No one would notice her in a crowd. But Gavin Hepburn had noticed her. Truth to tell, she had noticed him, too. Was it chance that had thrown them together, or was it something else?
According to gossip, his grandmother had been a celebrated witch. In her own time, she’d been called a witch, too, but that was before Dr. Rankin had taught her how to protect herself. It was all humbug anyway, wasn’t it?
She spent the next little while washing the day’s dirt from her skin. When she cleaned her teeth, she grimaced at her reflection. Magda said that her teeth were her best feature. But who noticed teeth? She let down her hair and fluffed it out. In another minute, her hair would hang straight and heavy as it always did. And why was she bothering?
When she crawled into bed, she had to admit that she felt safer knowing that Gavin and his dog were right there with her. She listened to their breathing, then she listened to the soft hiss of the rain as it painted patterns on the small windowpanes. Rain. The temperature was warming, melting the snow. Tomorrow, the trains would be running again.
Her eyes closed; her thoughts began to drift.
Bait
. Her head moved restlessly. Her muscles tensed. But something soft and silky slipped into her mind, soothing, beguiling, drawing her away from all her fears. She breathed out a sigh when she recognized the voice.
Pictures formed behind her eyes, and by degrees her muscles relaxed. She wasn’t alone, the voice told her. An army of powerful protectors ringed her in. She listened to the voice whisper their names, and when the voice hesitated, she said the names for him. Her family was there, even Magda, and her Fraser cousins. But out in front were her two stalwart defenders, Gavin and his dog. And right at her back was Mrs. Cardno, wielding her cane as though it were a spear.
Mrs. Cardno? What was she doing there?
She grew restless again. This wasn’t right. She wasn’t helpless. She wasn’t a coward. She wanted to do her part. But the voice wouldn’t hear of it. The more she struggled, the tighter his hold became.
Suddenly, the picture changed. She saw herself sleeping in her secret hiding place in the priest’s hole high above the cellar stairs. It was so secret that not even her father knew about it. It was the one place she felt really safe. Gradually, her breathing slowed. She drifted.
When Gavin felt her slip into a dreamless sleep, he gently released his hold on her mind. The pictures and images that he’d put there had obviously worked. She was sleeping soundly.
He wished that he could read her thoughts, but that wasn’t how his gift worked. He could, however, read her emotions, sense when she was frightened or angry or upset. That was how he had known that she was on the servants’ staircase, and that was how he had known she was running for her life on the moor. Her panic had transferred itself to him and, naturally, he had rushed to her defense.
She thought he was heartless. Her jibe had stung, but he made allowances for her, because she didn’t know as much as he. Sighing, he linked his fingers behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. His convoluted theories to persuade her that she was the target of a deranged killer were unconvincing at best. A horse and carriage could have driven through the holes in his logic. How much easier it would have been if he could have said simply and truthfully,
I know that you’re the target because I’m a seer, and I’ve been sent to save you
. As though she would believe him!
But it was the truth. That was why he’d felt a jolt of recognition when he’d first set eyes on her. That was what his dreams and visions were
trying
to tell him. The cemetery, the stone angels, the black horses with their funeral plumes, that was what the future held for her, but the future could be changed and, by everything he held holy, he would change it.
“In Scotland, we burn witches.”
He let out a breath. He’d only known one witch, his granny, Lady Valeria, and Kate wasn’t in the same class. She was intuitive, but so were many people. What had she done to incite someone to murder? He had to probe into her past, her mind, her secret thoughts to find the thread that would lead him to a killer.
He thought of Janet Mayberry and cursed under his breath. Janet was a mistake that he was sure Kate would make him pay dearly for. The thought turned in his mind, and he began to smile. She must care for him a little, or she wouldn’t have been so scathing when she confronted him with what she knew. The question he was asking himself was, how did she know? Was it maids’ gossip, or was it something else?
He didn’t regret kissing Kate. It was either kiss her or shake her. His anger had changed to something quite different the moment he’d felt her yield to him. It had been a long, long time since he’d wanted to know a woman so intimately. He wasn’t thinking only of sex; he was thinking of everything that made Kate who and what she was.
He wondered how soon it would be before she heard about Alice.
He’d drunk himself insensate for weeks after Alice drowned. It was his granny who had been the saving of him. Her psychic power had sent her from the Highlands to London like a homing pigeon. She’d known that he’d sunk into a melancholy. And it was in the Highlands that he’d finally managed to crawl out of the pit.
He’d tramped over miles of drovers’ roads, climbed the peaks, and fished for salmon with his friend Will. They hadn’t talked much at first, but he’d learned that there was healing in silence. And when he finally shared his guilt, Will had been a good listener.
Now Will was gone, and Kate Cameron’s fate hung in the balance. The words sounded melodramatic, but they were the right words. He had to find a way to change her future.
He thought about the way she had responded to his kiss for a long, long time. He could still taste the sherry on her tongue. He swallowed, filling himself with her taste and flavor. He wanted more. After tomorrow, however, he would be lucky if she would give him the time of day.
On that sobering thought, he turned on his side and willed himself to sleep.
Nine
“No. There must be some mistake, Elsie. I’m not going to Aberdeen. I’m going home.”
Even as she said the words, Kate knew that she’d been tricked. Perhaps
tricked
was the wrong word. It had never occurred to her that Gavin would take her to Aberdeen. And when had she started to think of him as Gavin?
Elsie didn’t stop packing all the lovely garments she’d found in the wardrobe, Juliet’s garments. That was what was beginning to convince Kate that the misunderstanding was all on her part. When he’d mentioned that Mrs. Cardno had picked out a few of Juliet’s things for her to wear, she’d assumed that he meant a change of clothes to tide her over until she got home.
Elsie was no happier with this turn of events than Kate. “There’s no mistake,” she said, tight-lipped. “I’m to take a letter to your father explaining your absence, while you take the train to Aberdeen. I’m your lady’s maid. I should go with you.”
Mistress and maid were both banging around the room, opening cabinets and slamming doors. There wasn’t a scrap of clothing in that room that belonged to Kate. According to Elsie, Mr. Hepburn had packed all her bits and pieces in a small valise and taken them downstairs when she was asleep.
She ground her teeth. She had no choice; she had to don the outfit Elsie had laid out for her, a cherry colored wool with a fitted red and black plaid jacket.
And where was the knave who had promised never to let her out of his sight? Elsie didn’t know. She didn’t know, nor could she go and look for him. Macduff had planted himself squarely in front of the door and bared his fangs whenever she got too close.
She didn’t feel let down; she felt betrayed.
“Oh, miss, you do look nice.” Elsie was looking at her as though she were a mouthwatering dessert. “No wonder Mr. Hepburn fell head over heels in love with you at first sight.”
“What?” Kate spun to take in her reflection in the mirror. The woman who stared back at her seemed like a stranger. She wasn’t sure that she liked what she saw. The outfit was too showy, too flamboyant for her quiet personality. She couldn’t live up to it, nor did she want to. Besides, whenever she borrowed someone else’s finery, disaster zoomed in like a shark drawn by the scent of blood. Magda’s beautiful gray silk gown was a case in point. Juliet didn’t have Magda’s temper, but Kate knew that she, herself, would feel horribly, horribly guilty if anything happened to Juliet’s immaculate outfit.
She turned back with a scowl. “Don’t believe everything Mrs. Cardno tells you.” She could see from the maid’s expression that she’d hit the mark. “She has a romantic turn of mind. And I’m not going to Aberdeen. I’m going home. There has been a colossal misunderstanding, that’s all.”
There was a discreet knock on the door, and Gavin entered. Kate folded her arms across her breasts. Macduff wagged his tail, and Elsie muttered something incomprehensible before making a quick exit.
“What’s the matter with your maid?” Gavin asked, staring at the closed door.
“I think she wants to be out of the battle zone,” Kate replied coolly.
“Ah.” He smiled as he perched on the arm of a chair. “What is it this time? Was the bed lumpy? Did I snore? Don’t you like the garments Mrs. Cardno chose for you?”