Family history had never much interested him. The present, the future, keeping the clan afloat, hunting with a bow, and wielding his sword in mock battles—he laughed at himself over that. He did kind of live in the past—because of their long lives and because some of the activities he’d loved to do in his youth were still his favorite pastimes. But it was his past. Not that of his ancestors. Still, if Julia had some tie to his family’s past, that definitely made his family history much more interesting.
He rubbed his chin, realizing that if he didn’t shave soon, he’d be as whiskered as Guthrie. Ian stalked up the stairs, wondering why in the world the MacPhersons’ portraits would have been in their castle. Had the MacPhersons pledged loyalty to his father or grandfather or great-grandfather before him? But only those who had money and importance could have afforded or would have wished to have portraits made of themselves.
So who were the MacPhersons?
Chapter 15
Ian took way longer to return to his bedchamber than Julia had thought he would, and although she meant to remain awake, staying up most of the night, all the exercise she’d gotten from running through the woods and walking to the falls earlier, and the jet lag from traveling finally caught up with her. Somehow she managed to climb under Ian’s goose-down comforter to snuggle against his soft mattress and even softer pillow. While enjoying his heavenly manly scent surrounding her, she fell asleep.
It wasn’t until she heard a whispered “MacPherson” next to her ear and felt strong arms pulling her against a hard, hot body, that she became aware Ian had joined her in bed. Her hands touched a bare chest, and her bare leg slipped against his. Had she even heard him say the name MacPherson? Or had it just been a dream?
Figuring there would be time enough to deal with the trouble she was bound to be in once she was more awake, she snuggled against him, mindful of her torn-up shin and sprained ankle. She thought she heard him roughly groan as she moved her leg up on top of his to keep it from hurting, and then the dawning day blinked out.
While Ian and Julia stayed in his chamber above, Cearnach couldn’t help speculating about what was going on between the two. He’d never seen his older brother so taken with a woman, and he was hopeful that this time Ian had found his match. And that she wouldn’t upset him like Ghleanna had done. The witch.
In the meantime, while Duncan and several others monitored the film crew, Guthrie continued to look into who might have threatened the women and attempted to find anything about a Julia MacPherson, and Cearnach headed off Maria who stalked toward the castle entrance, her look grim, determined, and battle ready. But now that Maria had arrived at the castle, Cearnach had another mission in mind. Locate Julia’s journal. First, though, he had to deal with her friend.
As upset as Maria appeared, he thought she was going to try to walk right through him. “Maria Baquero?” he asked, holding a hand up to stop her or grab her, whichever he needed to do to keep her from storming the castle.
“Is she here?” she asked brusquely, but worry threaded her words.
He smiled. “Aye.” Although he hadn’t had word from Ian as to what he was supposed to say to the lass if she’d arrived looking for Julia. He folded his arms. “She’s with Ian.”
Maria folded her arms, mirroring his stance, a scowl on her face. “I’m not speaking to one of Laird MacNeill’s people. I want to see Julia.”
That put him in his place. Cearnach bowed his head a little. “I’m Laird MacNeill’s next eldest brother, Cearnach MacNeill, and in his stead, I run things. His Lairdship does not wish to be disturbed. You’ll have to come back later. Or better yet, as soon as he is free, he can speak with you while you’re working here today.”
“My business is with Julia, not with Laird MacNeill.”
“Laird MacNeill has business with Miss Wildthorn. Or… is it MacPherson?”
Maria’s mouth dropped open, and she stared at him. “What?”
He assumed then that she didn’t know what Julia’s real name was. Or that she did know and was surprised to learn the MacNeills knew the truth, even though they hadn’t been certain. But it didn’t hurt to try and learn the facts from Julia’s friend while Ian was with Julia. He doubted the two of them were talking much right now.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Maria said, too indignantly.
“No matter.” Cearnach smiled. “Would you like me to pass a message along to… her?” he said, not sure what to call Julia now. Was she even named Julia?
“What happened? Why is she here?” Maria asked, her voice low and threatening.
“His lairdship had asked if she wished to spend the night. She returned to the cottage for a while and then came back here.”
Maria looked a little pale. Had the lass known Julia was going to try and sneak into the castle? He suspected so. “She might be free around suppertime. But as I said, as soon as she’s available, I’ll let her know you want to see her.”
They eyed each other with wariness. Maria wasn’t budging, and he wasn’t, either. He’d have to give the word for someone to keep an eye on her for the rest of the day. He didn’t want her sneaking into the castle and causing an uproar like Julia had already done.
Then thinking of the man who’d called her with a threat, Cearnach hoped to show he wasn’t the enemy. “Have you received any more threats, lass?”
She shook her head. “I think Julia may be right. That the caller did so because he was pissed off, but that since he couldn’t change things, he’s given up.” Her teeth gnawed on her lower lip. “Except for the business with the car.”
“We’re still looking into it. If we get any leads, we’ll let you know. All right then?” he asked.
When she didn’t make a move to back off, he motioned for Duncan, who was watching nearby as the scene played out. “Duncan?”
His brother stalked across the inner bailey to join him, eyeing Maria in an intimidating way.
“You know Maria, Julia’s friend. If we get word from the lass that she’s available to see her…” Cearnach let his words trail off. “I have other urgent business to attend to.” His and Duncan’s gazes met. Duncan got the message. Ian needed Cearnach to take care of some other business, and Miss Maria Baquero was Duncan’s charge until Cearnach returned.
“See you in a short while, Cearnach.”
“Aye, be back shortly.” Very shortly. While Cearnach was in charge, he didn’t want anything to go wrong in his absence.
Julia stirred, her leg resting over Ian’s thigh, her hand on his belly, her warm breath fanning his chest hair. He hoped to get some answers from her now, although the way she was touching him made him want something else entirely.
“Are you awake, lass?” he asked quietly, not wanting to rouse her if she was still not fully awake. While she’d been dead to the world, he’d managed to remove the slivers from her hands, and he hoped her fingers and palms would be healed by now.
“Hmm,” she said, dreamily, stretching her fingers against his skin.
He ran his hand over her sweater-covered back, the cashmere as soft as she was. “What were you really doing in the tunnels?”
She didn’t say anything. She was awake, but she seemed intent on avoiding the issue.
“My Aunt Agnes says you look very much like one of the MacPhersons. She’s positive you’re one of them.” He wasn’t about to mention the portraits in the tower room yet, hoping she’d tell him the truth on her own. But if Julia denied being a MacPherson, he’d show them to her. He wanted to get a look at them himself first, though, to see if there really was a resemblance.
Julia’s fingers stilled. The soft touch had been driving him to distraction, but now he wished she was still plying her gentle strokes across his chest. She barely breathed and lay quietly, not saying a word. He suspected then she was a MacPherson. But what was her family to the MacNeills?
“Is Julia your real name? Or do you have another alias for your given name also?”
She gave him an annoyed look. “Julia. And if you must know, I go by Wildthorn. If you’ll look for any documents on me, my driver’s license, passport—”
“None of which you probably have now due to the accident.”
She paused. “Well, yes, but if you saw them or had access to my records, you would see I go by Julia Wildthorn.”
“But you were born a MacPherson.”
“Yes,” she said so softly that he almost didn’t hear her.
So what did that mean to him? Nothing. He still didn’t have a clue as to what the MacPhersons were to his family. And without something more to go on, he didn’t believe he could get her to tell him the truth. They were at an impasse again.
“My Aunt Agnes is the family historian, and she’s cut her trip short to London to return here and research the family journals—all because of you. I have to say I was much surprised. She never shortens her vacation when she’s visiting her favorite place to shop. And what with the mess the film crew is making of the castle, she hadn’t planned to return until it was all over.”
Since she hadn’t allowed Guthrie to handle her own investments, Aunt Agnes hadn’t gotten into the financial straits they had. She could still enjoy a vacation away from the castle for a very long time without straining her finances.
Julia swallowed hard.
That got a response. “You might as well tell me what’s on your mind, lass.”
She didn’t say anything for a long time. He knew from the way her heart was beating way too fast that she was thinking about what she was going to say to him.
He let out his breath, about to try yet another tack, when her fingers lightly caressed his chest again. “I’ll tell you what I know if you promise me something.”
“It depends on what it is.” He wasn’t about to give in to the lass without knowing what this was all about. He twisted one of her curls around his fingers, his gaze on hers.