Countdown - Iris Johansen [49]
He laughed, picked up another folder from his desk, and got to his feet. “Would you like to read a few of Julius’s scrolls?”
“Sure. It might be interesting to get his view on Cira. But from what you’ve said I don’t believe I’m going to get any surprises.” She took the folder and curled up in the chair. “And maybe you’ll have something for me from Cira’s scroll later in the afternoon?”
He shook his head. “I’m having difficulty with this one. It’s not as well preserved as the first scroll. The tube containing it was partially damaged.”
She mustn’t feel frustrated. Cira’s letter to Pia had confirmed not only Cira’s character but had opened a new avenue of information. Julius’s scrolls might also prove interesting, and she had nothing else to do until after dinner, when Trevor had promised to show her this Run. She sighed. “Well, then I’ll just have to stay here and be an inspiration to goad you to work a little faster.”
8
She’d made her way through four of Julius’s scrolls before she got up from her chair and carried the rest back to Mario’s desk. “Good God, he was a horny bastard.”
Mario chuckled. “Had enough?”
“For now. He’s not telling me anything about Cira but what remarkable private parts she possessed. I’ll try again later. I need a break. I’m going down to the courtyard and do a little sketching.” She smiled. “Then I’ll come back and nag you again.”
“I look forward to it.” His tone was abstracted. He was obviously already back in his translation.
She wished she could be so involved, she thought as she left the room. After all these years of anticipating reading Julius’s scrolls, they were definitely a disappointment. She’d already been told the details of Cira’s life by Trevor, and Julius’s sexual fantasies about her were degrading and annoying. She couldn’t wait to read the other Cira scroll.
Well, she’d have to wait. So forget about Cira and get involved in her own work. That would make the time pass until she could brace herself for another onslaught of Julius’s porn.
An hour later she was sitting on the edge of the fountain and finishing a sketch of the battlements. Boring. The castle was interesting and she was sure there was a colorful history connected to the place, but there wasn’t anything she could get her teeth into. It was rock and mortar and—
The stable door opened. “You’re angry again, aren’t you?”
Her gaze flew to the man who was standing in the doorway. No, not a man. He was a boy in his late teens or early twenties.
And, my God, that face.
Beautiful. He couldn’t be called good-looking any more than the statues she’d seen of Greek heroes could be described by that term. His tousled blond hair framed perfect features and gray eyes that were staring at her with a kind of troubled innocence. That’s right, Bartlett had said Jock Gavin was slow, childlike.
“Are you still angry with the laird?” he asked, his frown deepening.
“No.” Even that scowl couldn’t spoil the fascination of that face. It only gave it more character, more layers. “I’m not angry at anyone. I don’t really know MacDuff.”
“You were angry when you came. I saw it. You made him unhappy.”
“He didn’t make me overjoyed.” He still had that troubled frown and she could see she wasn’t getting through to him. “It was a misunderstanding. Do you know what I mean?”
“Of course. But sometimes people don’t tell the truth.” His gaze shifted to the sketchbook. “You’re drawing something. I saw you. What?”
“The battlements.” She made a face as she turned the sketch around so that he could see it. “But I’m not doing it very well. I don’t really like drawing structures. I’d rather sketch people.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “Because it’s life. Faces change and age and become something different from minute to minute, year to year.”
He nodded. “Like flowers.”
She smiled. “Some of the faces I’ve drawn haven’t been in the least flowerlike. But, yes, it’s the same idea. Do you like flowers?”
“Yes.” He paused. “I have a new plant, a gardenia. I was going to give it to my mother in the spring, but I