Surprised, Ian stared at his brother. Cearnach sounded truly angry, when he was barely ever angry. “What has happened?” Ian asked in a gentler tone.
“You don’t know her, Ian.” His brows furrowed deeper. “She could be sleeping with the enemy for all we are aware.”
Ian had considered that Julia might be in the enemy’s camp and that could be the reason for her trying to sneak into the castle. But sleeping with his enemy—
He studied Cearnach’s grim expression. “Speak freely.” Although Ian didn’t want to hear what Cearnach had to say if he truly had uncovered evidence Julia was in the enemy’s camp—or worse, in bed with his enemy.
Cearnach’s jaw was clenched, but he said nothing. He swallowed hard and rose from the chair, crossed the floor, and looked out the window. “Just be careful.”
He turned and looked at Ian, his eyes misty with tears. Just like when he’d learned Flynn had died at the hands of an angry husband. “Be careful,” he said again. Then he quit the room, and Ian felt the joy he had known when he was in Julia’s arms wither.
What had she done?
Chapter 17
When Julia woke from her long sleep, Ian rose from the chair nearby where he’d been watching her. He couldn’t quash the concern he had that she might be in collusion with the Sutherlands, to what end, he didn’t know, though. Yet, damn his bloody soul, he couldn’t help wanting her anyway. “Are you hungry, lass?”
“Hmm,” she said, stretching in the bed, the covers barely covering her breasts.
He wanted to look away, not see how enticing the siren was while the words of warning his brother had given him still tugged at his conscience. “What do you know of the Sutherlands?”
She took a deep breath, peaceful, not in the least bit worried. Either she was a consummate actress along with being a great storyteller, or she hadn’t been part of a plot with his enemy after all.
“Basil Sutherland,” he added, studying her.
She shook her head. “I don’t know any Basil Sutherland. No Sutherlands, either.” She suddenly pulled the covers higher and sat up. “Maria! She’ll wonder what became of me.”
Purposefully changing the subject? “She was told you’re with me.”
Julia rolled her eyes. “I’m sure that went over well.”
“She wanted to see you. Once you’re dressed…” Ian clenched his teeth. He wanted this business resolved with the Sutherlands. “How did you know where the secret entrance was?”
“I told you.” She sounded taken aback. “My grandfather told me. But I couldn’t find it, and then I just happened to hit it with my boot and realized the trapdoor was there.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about this betrothal contract in the beginning?”
“At first I didn’t know about it. Then when I told my grandfather I wanted to ask your permission to locate the hidden box, he said I couldn’t. He said… if you were mated, or I was, the next female in my line would be betrothed to the next laird of Argent Castle.” She attempted a smile. “I told him I would tell you about the betrothal contract, and you’d end this nonsense now. No more problems with a blackmailer. You’d just say, ‘No way in hell,’ to that, and that would be the end of the difficulty.”
He raised his brows a little. Did she think he really found her that objectionable? “Because I don’t love you.”
“Well, sure, and because I don’t have a title…” She paused.
“Hmm?”
She continued, “I’m American. And a werewolf romance author.”
“I haven’t read your books. Maybe they would interest me.”
“I doubt it.”
He leaned back in the chair. “Have you had visitors to the cottage?”
She frowned at him. “You… and your brother. I was here most of the night or in the woods or the tunnel or… why?”
“Cearnach dropped by the cottage to get your bags so you’d have a change of clothes since your trousers were ruined in the tunnel and your sweater was wet.” Although Cearnach hadn’t told Ian what he’d found in the cottage when he had picked up Julia’s bags and her notebook, Ian assumed he’d smelled a Sutherland’s scent in the place.
“And?”
Ian shrugged. “A Sutherland had stopped by.”
“I don’t know any…” She paused. “Maybe he talked to Maria?”
Ian had considered it, but Cearnach’s words of warning—she was sleeping with the enemy—made him think otherwise. “No, Julia.”
She chewed on her lower lip, and then her eyes widened. “Maria’s okay, isn’t she?”
Her change of topic threw him.
“Maria’s here, working on the film.”
Julia’s whole body was tense now, and her gaze searched the room. “My bags. Where are my bags?”
“What’s going on, Julia?”
“Someone called me last night when I was trying to reach my grandfather to ask his permission to tell you that I needed to search for the box. I couldn’t get hold of him at first. As soon as I hung up the phone, it rang, and when I picked it up, thinking my grandfather had called me back, it was him—the blackmailer.”
“The blackmailer.” No matter that Ian meant to sound like he believed her, he was having a hard time relying on anything that came out of that beautiful mouth of hers now.
“Yes.” She spied one of her bags in the corner of the room and, without wasting another moment, climbed out of bed in all her naked beauty and crossed the room to her bag. “His voice was cold, threateningly so. And I realized then,” she said, tugging on a sweater, no bra this time, “why Maria thought he was dangerous and not just some flake.” She jerked on a pair of jeans, no panties.
He frowned. “Where are you going in such a rush?”
“I’ve got to speak with Maria. Warn her he knows where we’re staying. That he called last night. I don’t think he’s after her. He’s after me. He said he didn’t want me to find the contract. He’s blackmailing my grandfather. Aren’t you listening to me? I told you about it this morning. Or most of it. But she can’t stay at the cottage any longer. If he’s out to get me, he could use her to come after me. Don’t you see? She’ll have to stay at Harold’s rental with the rest of the film crew. Well, I will, too.”
Ian didn’t want her to stay with Harold, or anyone else, for that matter. No matter how crazy it seemed, given Cearnach’s warning about Julia, he wanted her here with him. Whether it was because he thought he might be able to keep her from doing whatever Sutherland wanted, or because he truly thought she might be in danger, he couldn’t decide.
She grabbed a pair of socks and sat down on the bed. “He knew it was me answering the phone, Ian. He knew before I said anything. He was watching the cottage when he spoke with me.” Her eyes widened as she looked up at him.
“Omigod, he didn’t pick our lock and let himself in while we’ve been gone, did he?” She shook her head and yanked on her socks. “I’ve got to talk to Maria. Ask if someone came to see her last night while I was running through the woods… um, and tunnels at your place.”
“Between the time you were with me and by the time you ended up in the tunnels, you had been at your place for a number of hours.”
“Sure, sleeping some. I wrote in my journal. And I had the two phone calls. What else…?” Her eyes narrowed. “What is this all about?”
“I’m not certain. Cearnach wouldn’t tell me. Perhaps we should take a ride over to your place and check it out?”
She hurried to slip on her boots and frowned. “Fine. I’m ready. But I have to warn Maria about the blackmailer.”
If anything, she was consistent about this story. But he didn’t think Cearnach was wrong, either.
He led her into the hallway, down the stairs to the great hall, and then outside where he walked her through the inner bailey to the outer one. When he saw the director talking to some of his people near the stables, Ian took hold of Julia’s arm and led her toward them. “Come on.”
“What… what are we doing?”
“Maria’s nowhere around,” he said, motioning to the outer bailey. “You can talk to her when you get back.”
“Yeah, but—”
He motioned to one of his cousins as he came out to greet him. “Saddle Rogue.”
“Aye,” Oran said, and hurried into the stable.
Julia rubbed her arms and chewed on her bottom lip. “I’ve never ridden a horse before. Well, except for a trail horse, and they’re ornery as all get-out. Not in the least bit obedient. One was a stubborn old nag that tried to rub me off on every tree we passed. I love them, but… from a distance.”
He smiled at her. He couldn’t help it. “And you’re writing a cowboy story? Don’t they have horses?”
She frowned at him. “Sure, but the heroine doesn’t have to have a horse.”
“Unless she steals one.”
She just stared at him, her lips parted, kissable. God, how he wanted to kiss them. Then she narrowed her eyes. “When Cearnach picked up my bags, he wouldn’t have also lifted my journal, would he have?”
“You wanted to write. How could you without your notebook?”
She glowered at him. “Don’t you know it’s wrong to read someone’s private journal?”
“My name was in it. Seemed acceptable to read what you’d written about me.” Although he hadn’t stopped there.
She opened her mouth to speak, but when she saw Rogue, she didn’t say a word, just gawked and shivered. “That’s not a horse. It’s as tall as your castle.”
He chuckled, mounted the horse, and then reached down offering his hand and, with a grip on her arm, swung her around the back of him. “Hold on, lass.”
