Countdown - Iris Johansen [52]
And MacDuff was obviously as protective and defensive about Jock as the boy was about him. For the first time she felt a surge of sympathy and understanding for MacDuff. It wasn’t only duty that was driving the laird to take care of the boy. “You like him.”
“I watched him grow up. His mother was head housekeeper and he was in and out of the castle from the time he was a lad. He wasn’t always like this. He was bright and happy and—” He broke off. “Yes, I like Jock. Will you do it or not?”
She slowly nodded. “I’ll do it. But I don’t know how long I’ll be here.” She grimaced. “You obviously don’t appreciate me being here.”
“The situation is already too complicated.” He added gravely, “But it’s good that you’re going to be of use to me.”
She looked at him in amazement. “I’m not one of your damn ‘people’ and I won’t be used by—” He was smiling and she realized that he was joking. “Good Lord, do I detect a sense of humor?”
“Don’t tell Trevor. One mustn’t lower one’s guard. Are you going to tell him you’re going to draw Jock?”
“If I feel like it.” But she knew what he meant. She’d been on guard with Trevor since he’d come back into her life. “But it doesn’t concern him.”
“He won’t agree. He wouldn’t have brought you here if you didn’t concern him.” He opened the stable door for her. “If you’re not here tomorrow, I’ll understand.”
The bastard was saying the one thing that would firm her determination to come. He was almost as much a manipulator as Trevor, she thought in amusement. Why wasn’t she irritated, as she would have been with Trevor? “I’ll be here at nine A.M.”
“I’m . . . grateful.” He met her gaze. “And I repay my debts.”
“Fine.” She started across the courtyard. “It’s good that I can make use of you, MacDuff.”
She heard a surprised chuckle behind her but she didn’t look back. She was probably making a mistake becoming involved with Jock Gavin. He wasn’t her concern. No sketch was worth the risk MacDuff had warned her about.
To hell with it. Orphans and lame ducks seemed to be her downfall. She’d never been able to walk away just because the going got tough. It wasn’t her nature. If it was a mistake, then it was her mistake and she’d live with it.
Had that been Cira’s attitude when she’d taken the boy, Leo, into her home?
Jock Gavin wasn’t Leo and she wasn’t Cira. So stop making comparisons and get back to Mario and see if she could nudge him into speeding up the work on Cira’s scrolls.
Bartlett was standing in the hall when she came in the front door, his expression concerned. “I saw you go into the stable with the boy. You were there a long time. Is everything all right?”
“No problem. He’s very sweet.” She gestured to the sketchbook she carried. “I was just doing a little work.”
He shook his head reproachfully. “You shouldn’t have gone into the stable. Trevor’s put it off-limits to all of us. That’s MacDuff’s territory.”
“MacDuff didn’t kick me out, so I guess it was okay with him.” She started up the stairs. “I’ve got to get back to Mario. I’ll see you later.” As she reached the landing, she glanced back and saw him still staring after her with a troubled expression. She said gently, “It’s okay, Bartlett. Stop worrying.”
He forced a smile and nodded. “I’ll work on it.” He turned away. “It used to be easier. The older I get, the more aware I become of how many things there are to worry about in this world. You wouldn’t know about that. The young always think they’re immortal.”
“You’re wrong. I never thought I was immortal even when I was a kid. I knew you had to fight to stay alive.” She continued up the stairs. “But I’m not about to spoil even one minute of it fretting unless I decide there’s cause.”
May I come in, Trevor?” MacDuff asked after he opened the library door. He nodded at Bartlett, who was standing beside the desk. “I thought you’d come running here after I saw you outside in the courtyard looking at the stable as if it were a windmill and you were Don Quixote.” He dropped down in the visitor’s chair and smiled at Trevor.