Page 25

Twenty-two

I an was living in hell.

Had been for the past two weeks. Fully expected to spend the rest of his life there. A hell so severe, he couldn’t imagine a way for it to get any worse.

You’d think at the very least everyone could leave him alone and let him suffer in peace.

“Look, I don’t know what happened, and I know you don’t want to talk about it. I promised I wouldn’t ask again. But for God’s sake, Ian, you can’t keep on like this.” Danny paced back and forth across the shiny wooden floor of the London flat, tunneling his hand through his hair. “Come back to Glaston House with me. Spend some time there. Wind down.”

“No.” Ian didn’t think he could ever go there again without holding his breath, expecting at any moment to see Sarah walk around every corner. Without being haunted by the smell of her, the memory of her. “No. I’m staying here. I’m fine.”

“Like hell you are. You’ve barely eaten anything and you look like death warmed over.” Danny stopped his pacing in front of the chair where Ian slumped. “Will you at least consider driving out on Friday, spend the weekend with us?”

“I’ll consider it.” He’d say anything to shut his friend up, to get him out of here. He stood and put a hand at Danny’s back. “Now go home to yer wife and son. Go. I’ll be fine.”

Danny shook his head as he allowed Ian to push him toward the door. “You’ll go out and get something to eat? I’m calling to check on you tomorrow, I mean it.”

“Yeah, I’ll take care of it. You worry like an old woman. Go.”

With one last fretful look back, Danny shoved his hands deep in the pockets of his raincoat and hurried through the drizzle toward his parked car.

At last. The solitude he craved.

His friend meant well, was only trying to comfort him, but Ian didn’t want comfort. Didn’t deserve it. All he wanted as he stretched out on the dark leather sofa was to escape into the black void of sleep. Only there was he without any thought at all. Thought was his enemy now, because every conscious moment, with every breath he took, his every thought was of Sarah.

He lay back, slowed his breathing and began to drift, reaching for that place where he could be nothing, know nothing, feel nothing.

The harsh jangle of the telephone jerked him back to the hell he’d been working to escape. With his eyes still closed, he briefly considered ignoring it, but the noise would continue and then they—whoever they were—would just call back, starting the whole process over again.

“What,” he snarled into the receiver as he grabbed it.

“Ian?” Henry’s quiet voice faltered for a moment. “Is this a bad time?”

Ian calmed himself. None of this was Henry’s fault. “No, Henry. Sorry. What can I do for you?” He sat forward on the sofa, rolling his neck from side to side to relieve the tension curled there.

“I’m afraid we may have a wee problem. I was no sure who else to speak to.”

“What is it?” The roof again, the plumbing, the electric—none of it really mattered.

“It would appear Sarah’s gone missing.”

That mattered. He sat up straight, his full attention on the conversation.

“What do you mean, gone missing? Gone as in took a walk, lost in the woods—what?”

“Gone as in dinna return last night from her, um, outing with that man.”

How could he possibly feel like he was going to throw up when he hadn’t any food in his stomach?

“What man?”

“That Ramos man. The one who picked her up yesterday to take her sightseeing.”

“Ramos Servans? You let her leave the grounds with Servans?” He was on his feet, pacing as far as the telephone cord would allow. “I dinna understand. She promised she’d no see either of them again,” he murmured, half to himself.

“That’s exactly what I told the General.”

“Dallyn knew she was going?”

“Oh, aye. He said she had her own choices to make.”

Bloody cryptic Fae. “Does he know that she dinna return? That she’s gone missing?”

“Well, no. When we realized she’d no come home, I dinna know for sure what to do. Finally I decided I’d call you, as I’d wanted to when we first learned she was going off with that man. I figured you’d know what was best.” Henry sounded rattled.

“Verra well. You did fine, Henry. Here’s what I want you to do now. First of all, go find the General. Tell him what’s happened. Tell him I want her found. Immediately.” If anything’s happened to her…

“Right. I’ll find him.”

“And I want to talk to him. You have him call me as soon as she’s located.”

“Aye, I’ll try. Anything else?”

“Keep me updated. I’ll be waiting.”

“Right.”

Ian held the phone long after the line had gone dead, as if in some way it connected him to the place he really wanted to be. He reined in his first inclination to drive up there and find her himself. He couldn’t give in to that even though he felt helpless here, so far away from her, unable to do anything to protect her.

But being away from her was the only way he could protect her.

If I’m there, she dies.

Unless Dallyn was right and he’d interpreted the dream incorrectly.

In spite of his earlier lack of imagination, the severity of his hell had suddenly ratcheted up a notch.

***

The car pulled to a stop in the driveway, Ramos hopping out almost before the motor died to come round and open her door. No doubt he was anxious to get rid of her.

“Thanks again for the trip. I had a great time.” Sarah smiled at him, expecting a hasty departure to follow.

He pushed his sunglasses to the back of his head, staring at her for a moment before answering. “So did I. What say I pick you up tomorrow and we go see the sights in Edinburgh together?”

“I’m surprised you’d want to.”

“What makes you say that?” Now he looked surprised.

“After the spectacle I made last night, you have to ask?” She could feel her face color with embarrassment. The last thing she’d planned to do was cry all over his shoulder. But she’d done it anyway.

“That?” He made a scoffing noise. “That was nothing. That is, after all, what friends are for. To be there when you need them. So, we on for tomorrow?”

“I’m afraid not. I’m behind in my writing and I’ve taken the last two days off to play.”

“Very well. I’ll give you that. Saturday, then. Everyone takes the weekend off. Even big, famous authors like you, I’d imagine. I’ll come up with something special, I promise.”

She had enjoyed her time with Ramos. And he did make her laugh. Why shouldn’t she see him again?

“Okay, but what about this? We come back early Saturday and I’ll fix dinner here. That way, I can do something for you.”

He paused as if considering her offer, then grinned. “I have a better idea. I’ll come out Friday afternoon. You fix us an early dinner. Then we’ll drive back to the city, spend the night—two rooms, of course”—he waggled his eyebrows up and down causing her to chuckle—“and we’ll have a full Saturday for whatever we want to do.”

“Deal.” She stuck her hand out to shake on the agreement.

He took the hand she offered, using it to pull her to him. Wrapping his other arm behind her, he dipped her over backward for a long kiss.

Another surprise. “What was that for? Just a chap still trying?”

“Not at all. That was entirely for the benefit of the audience.” He shot a quick glance toward the front of the house before covering his eyes with the sunglasses he’d pulled off his head.

But not before she saw the laughter there. Yeah, he likes to play the bad boy.

“See you Friday afternoon, my sweet,” he called loudly as got back in the car.

More loudly than he’d needed to, obviously still playing to the audience.

After waving to the retreating car, she turned to find both Henry and Martha standing at the foot of the stairs. She had to stifle the giggle that threatened to bubble out as she looked at them. They were like matching statues, both with their arms crossed and both with irritated little frowns on their faces.

“Good afternoon,” she called, waving as she started down the path toward the cottage, a quick escape in mind.

“One moment, young lady. Hold it right there.” Henry broke his pose and limped toward her. “Where have you been? We’ve been worried sick about you.”

Martha kept her post by the stairs, but nodded vigorously to show her agreement.

“Why on earth would you be worried about me?”

“We expected you back last night. When you’d no returned this morning, I was beside meself.”

“Near gave him a stroke, you did, missie.” Martha kept her distance, but clearly wanted her say.

“I even had Dallyn out hunting for you.”

Her first instinct was to be irritated, but looking closely, she could see that Henry was, in fact, very upset. His cheeks were a mottled pink and his hands shook. She suddenly felt very guilty. She hadn’t given a second thought to her host’s reaction to her being gone last night.

“Oh, Henry. I am sorry. I didn’t mean to put you out.” She reached the older man and gave him a hug. She considered it a good sign that he allowed her to do so. “We spent the day at the Glengarry Highland Games. It got dark and we decided it was safer to stay there than try to drive back. I never thought to give you a call. It didn’t occur to me that anyone here would even notice I was gone.”

“Well, we did notice.”

“Yes, we did,” Martha added.

“I should expect in the future you’ll take care no to get caught out like that.” He seemed somewhat mollified.

“Or, if I do, I’ll make sure to call. Okay?”

“Verra well.” He turned and limped back toward the stairs.

“Verra well,” Martha echoed, getting the last word in, before following Henry into the house.

Sarah headed to the cottage. She could use some time to herself. After the events of yesterday, she was emotionally drained.

It had been a while since she’d had to account for her whereabouts to anyone and she found it left her with myriad emotions. She was irritated with herself for not having been a more thoughtful guest. She felt guilty for Henry McCullough’s obvious upset.

But, worst of all, she was disappointed that it was the wrong McCullough who had been worried about her.