Countdown - Iris Johansen [55]
When they turned the corner and began walking toward the edge of the cliff, Jane first noticed only the sea stretching before her. “What is this? What am I supposed to—”
They had reached the top of a knoll, and below them, stretching toward the steep cliff, was a level grassy plain that bordered the entire rear of the castle. The grass was perfectly manicured and on either end of the long expanse were several rows of boulders.
“MacDuff’s Run,” Trevor said.
“What the devil is it? It looks like some Druid meeting place.”
“It was a meeting place, all right. Angus MacDuff had a passion for athletic games. He was something of a robber baron and admired might in any form. He finished building his castle in 1350 and the next spring he held the first Scottish Games in this area.”
“That long ago?”
Trevor shook his head. “In 844 Kenneth MacAlpine, King of Scots, organized a three-day game to keep his army occupied while waiting for good-luck omens before his battle with the Picts. Malcolm Canmore, who took the throne in 1058, held regular games to select the strongest and fastest Scots to join his elite guard.”
“And I thought they were called the Highland Games.”
“The MacDuffs originated in the Highlands, and I guess they brought their games with them. According to their journals the games were the highlight of their year. Curling, wrestling, racing, and some local sports that were a bit weird. All the young men in MacDuff’s service participated in them.” He smiled at Jane. “And an occasional woman. Fiona MacDuff was mentioned as being permitted to run in the races. She won two years in a row.”
“And then I suppose they decided to outlaw women?”
He shook his head. “She got pregnant and stopped of her own accord.” He stopped beside one of the boulders at the end of the Run. “Sit down. I imagine that the later generations brought out chairs to view the games, but these were the first seats.”
She slowly sat down on the boulder beside him. “Why do you come here?”
“I like it.” His gaze traveled down the stretch of grass to the rocks at the end of the Run. “It’s a good place to get your head straight. I feel at home here. I believe I would have enjoyed knowing Angus MacDuff.”
As she stared at his profile, she believed he would too. The wind from the sea was lifting his hair from his forehead and there was that hint of recklessness about his mouth. His eyes were narrowed as if gauging the difficulty of the next competition. She could imagine him sitting here, laughing with the laird and preparing for his turn at the Run. Jesus, she wished she had her sketchbook. “Which event would you have entered?”
“I don’t know. The run, maybe curling . . .” He turned to her and his eyes were glittering with mischief. “Or maybe I’d have been better suited taking book on all the events. I’m sure there was plenty of gambling going on during the games.”
She smiled back at him. “I can see you carving out a niche in that area.”
“Perhaps I could have done both. I’d have gotten bored with only betting on one game a year.”
“Heaven forbid.” She looked away from him. “I didn’t expect this when you brought me here.”
“I know you didn’t. You probably thought the Run was one of my more wicked criminal enterprises.”
“Or had some connection with Grozak. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I wanted you here,” he said simply. “I like it here and I wanted you to like it too.”
He was telling the truth, and she did like it here, dammit. It was as if this place reduced everything to the basic and primitive. She could almost hear the pipes and feel the earth vibrate beneath the feet of those long-ago runners. “Would it have been so difficult to just say that?”
“Hell, yes. You’re having trouble even looking at me these days without throwing up a cast-iron barrier. And then I made it worse by letting sex— See, you’re tensing again. Look at me, dammit. This isn’t like you, Jane.”
“How do you know? You haven’t seen me in four years.” But she forced herself to turn her head and look at him.