Roses in Moonlight

chapter 19





Samantha looked at the clock on the dash and realized she’d been asleep for well over three hours. She had managed to talk until about three, but that had been it for her. She looked to her right to see how Derrick was doing. He looked tired, but coherent.

“Do you ever sleep?”

He smiled but didn’t look at her. “I was planning on a very long nap later this morning. How was yours?”

“Not long enough. Where are we going?”

He glanced at her then. “You’re fairly trusting, aren’t you? To hop in a car with a strange man and allow him to drive you who knows where?”

“Lord Epworth trusts you, you rescued me from a thug earlier in the evening and other various thugs earlier in the week, and you drive a Vanquish. How bad can you possibly be?”

“And I let you drink tea in my car.”

“See? You’re a prince.”

He only smiled and concentrated on the road.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see. I’ve tried to time it properly, but I don’t know how successful I’ve been.” He shook his head. “I’m more tired than I should be.”

She understood, and she’d been the one sleeping all the way to Scotland. She took the opportunity to sit in absolute luxury and put off thinking for a bit longer. She didn’t want to think about the night before. She didn’t want to know why Derrick and his friends acted more like superspies than treasure hunters—well, she actually wanted to know that very badly, but she could wait for that as well. She just wanted to feel safe for a bit longer until she couldn’t ignore reality anymore.

They drove through a village at dawn. It was a charming place that looked as if it had been frozen in time during some happy, prosperous period where everything was good.

Derrick continued on through the village, then turned after a bit onto a long, well-maintained gravel road that wound through forests and fields. The trees were full of shadows and mists and things that were gloriously mysterious and portentous. She had no trouble believing that a medieval peasant would have been terrified to find out what lurked in those forests.

“Close your eyes.”

She did, mostly because she had the feeling it would be worth the effort.

“All right.”

She opened her eyes, then gasped. There on a rise sat a medieval castle. Well, perhaps there were a few additions here and there, but on the whole, it looked as if it had been ripped out of the thirteenth century and plunked down in the twenty-first. She looked at Derrick.

“We didn’t hit one of those mushroom rings, did we?”

“Nay, it’s just Cameron Hall, home to the Camerons for centuries.” He looked at her. “Not a bad pile of rocks, is it?”

“It’s stunning. Is it Lord Robert’s?”

“Aye. He’s very attached to it. Centuries of Cameron pride and all that.”

“And how are you related, and all that?”

He laughed a little. “My grandfather and old Alistair Cameron—he was Lord Robert’s, ah, well, his, um—”

She listened to him stumble over his genealogy and found that very odd. “You must be very tired.”

“Hmmm,” he agreed. “Anyway, Cameron has the title now and my grandfather was the second son, so there you have it. And with every child Cameron and Sunny spawn, I’m more and more comfortable about my distance from the title and responsibility.”

“Really?” she asked. “You don’t want to be laird?”

“No desire at all.”

“Why not?”

“I’d have to wear a suit and tie more than once a year at a funeral.”

She smiled. “Considering I’m not sure I’ll ever wear another pair of pantyhose, I think I might understand.” She looked at the castle and felt herself grow increasingly nervous. “Will they let us in?”

“Might even give us breakfast if we promise to wash up.”

She looked at him quickly but saw that he was teasing. “You could have left me at a hotel, you know. I haven’t really been invited—”

“You’re my guest,” he said simply. “Don’t fash yourself over it, Samantha. There are plenty of guest rooms so you won’t have to sleep on the floor. The only thing that would make your stay more pleasant was if Cameron and Sunny were here. They’re marvelous hosts and don’t stand on ceremony. I’m not sure Cameron even knows where his shoes are once he’s past the front door. I know Sunny doesn’t.”

She had no choice but to believe him, so she decided for once to do just that. She’d spent her life trying to decipher the subtext beneath what her parents were saying. Maybe it was time to just take someone at his word.

He put his car in a garage and the world didn’t end, then fetched all their gear and tsk-tsked her when she tried to take her suitcase. She gave in and let him ply his chivalry on her.

She walked with him around the corner of the keep and waited until he’d gotten his key near the front door. It opened before he could manage to get it into the lock and a petite woman who looked like an older version of Emily stood there.

“Ah, Derrick, mon cher,” she said, leaning up to kiss both his cheeks, “Oliver called to let me know you were coming, but I expected you much sooner than this.”

“I thought the keep was best seen by sunrise, so we dawdled.” He stepped aside. “Madame Gies, this is Samantha Drummond. Samantha, Madame Gies. She’s Emily’s grandmother.”

“Ah, you know my sweet Emily?” Madame Gies said, reaching out and drawing Samantha inside. “And you look weary, poor lamb.” She looked at Derrick. “Food or sleep, pet?”

“Sleep first, if you don’t mind.”

“Very sensible,” she said, “for I imagine you’ve been driving all night. Come along then, children, and let me see you settled.”

Samantha had the impression of an enormous great hall with a fireplace befitting that hall, stone floors, comfortable but very lovely furniture, and then a long staircase that she climbed only because she knew there was the hope of a bed at the top. She soon stood in the middle of a bedroom that looked as if it had been furnished in the Middle Ages and simply blinked stupidly as Derrick brought in her suitcase and set it down on the bench at the foot of the bed. It had curtains that could have been drawn, though she imagined she wouldn’t get that far.

“Loo over there, love,” Madame Gies said, “and water and juice on the dresser there. Derrick, your room is as it always is. Cleaner than you left it, if I might say so.”

Samantha watched him kiss Emily’s grandmother on the cheek. “You indulge me too much.”

“I’m going to start throwing out clothes if you don’t learn to pick them up off the floor.” Madame Gies looked at Samantha and smiled. “I’m not serious. He’s very tidy.”

Samantha wanted to tell her that she wasn’t sure Derrick really cared what opinion she had of him, but the woman left before she could. She looked at Derrick, though it took her a moment or two to focus on him. He was yawning uncontrollably, so perhaps he hadn’t noticed. He finally shook his head sharply, then walked over to her and pulled her into his arms as if he’d been doing it without thinking for . . . well, forever.

He kissed the top of her head, then pulled away and put his hands on her shoulders. “You’re safe here.”

“Thank you,” she managed.

“I’ll see you for lunch. Hopefully.”

She nodded and watched him go, pulling the door shut behind him.

She considered, then locked the door.

It had been that kind of week so far.

• • •

It was after noon before she’d managed to get herself up, into the shower, and dressed. She dried her hair, braided it, and took her courage in hand to venture out of the guest room. She walked down the stairs, then paused at the bottom of them because she wasn’t quite sure what to do next.

A man leapt up from one of the couches set there in front of the fire and walked over to her, smiling broadly.

“Ewan Cameron,” he said, holding out his hand toward her. “Cousin to the laird, but unfortunately too far from the title for that to matter. You’re Samantha.”

“Well, yes, I am,” Samantha managed.

“I don’t know anything about you, but I’m sure we can remedy that—”

“When hell freezes over,” a voice said from the vicinity of the doorway.

Samantha looked over to find it was Derrick who had come inside and banged the door shut behind himself.

“Good hell, Ewan, give it a rest, would you? The poor girl’s been traumatized enough already.”

“Aye, obviously by your sour self.” Ewan wrinkled his nose. “Go shower. Samantha and I will spend the time getting to know each other.”

Samantha frowned at Derrick. “What happened to you?”

“Went for a run,” he said, looking as if he’d done just that. “Clears my head.”

“And fouls the air around you,” Ewan said.

Samantha looked at Ewan. “Do you run?”

“Very slowly and only when chased,” he said with a wink. “I’ll tell you all about it while my cousin goes and grooms. It won’t take him long. We can only hope he does more than just brush his teeth.”

“Shut up, Ewan.”

Ewan suggested something quite a bit viler for Derrick to do. Samantha felt her mouth fall open, but Ewan only reached for her hand.

“Take your time, cousin,” Ewan said, tugging her along with him toward the fireplace. “Sam and I will be getting to know each other better.”

“Don’t call her that.”

Samantha glanced at Ewan, then turned with him to study Derrick, who looked suddenly very uncomfortable.

“Well,” he said, “you might not like it.”

“Perhaps not coming from you,” Ewan said, “but from someone she’s fond of? We’ll be examining that—”

“Ewan, will you just shut up?” Derrick asked wearily. “Samantha, please feel free to find a chair and break it over his head. You’ll do us all a very great favor. I’ll be right back down.”

Samantha watched him trot up the stairs, then looked at his cousin.

“Is that standard fare?”

Ewan laughed a little and offered her his arm. “Let’s go sit by the fire. Castles are cold, even in the summer. And yes, that’s standard fare. Derrick takes himself too seriously. I feel it’s incumbent upon me to help him stop that.”

“I don’t know him well enough to know,” Samantha murmured. “He seems driven.”

“That’s one way of putting it.” Ewan offered her the seat closest to the fire, then sat down with her. “I’m not as obnoxious as I seem. Just trying to do my part for the betterment of the species.”

Fortunately for him, he didn’t have as much time for betterment as he no doubt wanted and fortunately for her, Derrick arrived in jeans and a T-shirt, not shorts and his shirt flipped over his shoulder.

Dory Mollineux, his V-neck sweaters, and his Top-Siders would have all wept with envy.

“Let’s talk over lunch,” Derrick said. “I’m starving and I’m sure you are as well.”

“You know, I am, actually,” Ewan said, rising with a smile. “Thank you for thinking of me.”

Derrick looked at her. “Help me not kill him.”

Ewan put his hand over his heart. “I’m here to run security for you and this is the thanks I get?”

“I’m sure you’ve already eaten,” Derrick said shortly. “Go secure.”

Ewan looked at her and made her a little bow. “He has spoken and I must obey. I’ll try to sit next to you at dinner.”

Samantha watched him go, then looked at Derrick. “Is he always like that?”

“Sometimes he’s much worse. Let’s go throw ourselves on the mercy of Madame Gies, then we’ll see where we are.”

Samantha was certain she wouldn’t stay awake through lunch, but she managed it in spite of herself. And once she thought she might like to have another nap, Derrick looked at her.

“We need to figure a few things out,” he said seriously.

“Like what?”

He thanked Madame Gies for lunch, then took Samantha’s hand and led her from the kitchen. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

“We need to talk about those two lads, the one who broke into your hotel room and the other who was waiting outside—”

“What?” she squeaked.

He shook his head. “They’re too far away to be a bother. But they are the ones who were following you from York. Well, from Newcastle, actually.”

“I think I need to sit down.”

“We’ll go invade Cameron’s study. Come on.”

She let him pull her up the stairs because that was better than asking him to carry her, which she was very tempted to do. He led her into something that belonged in a castle, which she supposed was appropriate, and put her within collapsing range of a couch, which she appreciated. Then he sat down on the couch with her and looked at her seriously.

“I don’t think those two were after the lace.”

“What were they after?”

“Something you still have.”

“But I don’t have anything,” she managed. “Just what Emily bought me—or, you, rather—and my messenger bag. There’s nothing left in that.”

“Well, they think there’s something left somewhere. Gems, apparently, given that jewels are what they deal in.”

She felt her mouth fall open. “I’m being chased by jewel thieves? You can’t be serious.”

He shrugged. “You don’t have the lace anymore, yet your room was broken into last night while you were in it.”

“And while I wasn’t.”

He went very still. “What?”

“When I came back from a walk, I found my door open.” She took a deep breath. “I thought it was just the maid.”

“What had you carried with you on your outing?”

“My bag.” She looked at him. “It’s in my room. I usually never go anywhere without it, but I didn’t think I needed to be that careful here.” She considered. “Should I go get it?”

“If you don’t mind.”

She thought perhaps the trip would help her calm her racing heart, but it didn’t do a thing for her. She was still trying to catch her breath as she sat back down next to Derrick and handed him her purse.

“Have at it.”

“Anything personal in there?”

“Well, of course there’s personal stuff,” she said with a snort, then realized what he was getting at. “No feminine protection items, if that’s what you’re talking about.”

“Thank heavens. May I?”

“Feel free.”

He pulled things out of her bag and laid them out: wallet, envelope from Lord Epworth, sunglasses, key to her room—

“Oops,” she said.

“They’ll manage to get another,” he said. He frowned at the very normal and ordinary items there, then took her bag and upended it.

A handkerchief came out of one of her unzipped hidden pockets after a fair bit of shaking. Samantha blinked in surprise.

“What in the world is that?”

He peered at it, then reached out and picked it up. It was tied up like a little hobo bundle, which he then gingerly untied. He peeled back the corners, then looked at the small linen packet it revealed. He looked at her.

“What do you think?”

“Too small to be a bomb.”

He smiled briefly, then set it down on the table. He pulled out a pocketknife.

“Are you supposed to have one of those?” she asked.

“Don’t tell.”

She would have smiled, but she was actually slightly unnerved to find that she had again been used as a courier without her knowledge.

Derrick carefully slit open one end of the small linen package, tipped it, then jumped a little as a handful of gems spilled out into his hand.

She squeaked.

Derrick poured the gems onto the coffee table and simply stared at them. He looked at her.

“What do you think?”

She took the handkerchief the little packet had been wrapped in and looked at it. “Sixteenth-century bobbin lace. It’s new.”

“It’s not very clean.”

“I mean, it’s not vintage,” she said. She looked at him. “We’re looking at a piece of Elizabethan lace that hasn’t been around for four hundred years. It’s new.”

He blinked. “You think it was planted on you when we were fetching the lace?”

“I don’t know what else to think.” She shrugged helplessly. “It’s not like I’ve dumped out my bag since then. I was too busy stuffing things into it.” She spread the lace out carefully. She could hardly believe she was examining yet another piece of Elizabethan textile, much less one that was antique, but not antique. She sighed. “It’s not clean, no, but it’s also not showing any age spots. And yes, it’s worn a little on this edge here and it’s been repaired here, but on the whole, it’s in very good condition.” She looked at him. “New.”

“I’ll be damned.” He shook his head. “I wonder why?”

“It doesn’t make any sense,” she said. “There’s no way those guys last night could possibly have known I had that. Is there?”

He looked into the empty hearth for a moment or two, then reached for her purse and looked at it. He finally turned it inside out. He looked at her. “Do you mind if get a little more friendly?”

“With my bag?”

“That, too.”

She blinked, then smiled. “You’re crazy. And yes, go ahead.”

He looked in the pockets, then ran his fingers over the lining.

And he stopped.

He reached for his knife, then looked at her. “Mind?”

“No,” she said, feeling a little breathless.

He unpicked stitches she wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t been looking for them. She felt her mouth fall open as he pulled out a small plastic bag of gems.

“Well, this is interesting.”

“Damn that Lydia Cooke.”

He laughed a little. “That’s a pretty big assumption.”

“That bag never leaves my person,” she said. “The only time I’ve been without it is in Newcastle.” She looked at him. “Jet lag, you know.”

“Understandable.” He set the bag down on the coffee table next to the other loose gems. “Notice anything interesting?”

She looked at both collections, then frowned. “Well, apart from the fact that I’m seeing double is the fact that I’m seeing double.”

He lifted his eyebrows briefly. “I’d have to dig out a jeweler’s loupe, but I imagine those are quite similar sets of stones.”

“What?” she said in surprise.

He started to answer, but his phone beeped at him. Samantha watched him read a text, then put his phone away.

“Oliver and Peter are here. We’ll set up in Cameron’s office downstairs. Lots of comfy chairs and secure lines for Internet surfing. I’ll build a fire and we’ll do a bit of researching.”

“What are we going to do with the loose stones?”

“Oh, I’ll just shove them in a pocket.”

“Better check for holes first.”

He looked at her and smiled. “You know, you’re fairly funny for a textile historian.”

“Did you expect me to only be able to talk about bobbins and patterns?”

He shook his head, then took the linen, the handkerchief, and the small plastic bag full of gems and shoved it all in her bag he’d turned back outside out. He scooped up the loose gems, then stood and put them in his pocket. She gaped at him.

“You just shoved a fortune in gems in your pocket.”

“A fortune, do you think?”

“Well, the lace alone is very valuable—”

“Which is why it’s in your purse.” He put his pocketknife into a different pocket, then held out his hand for her. “Let’s go.”

“You’re crazy.”

He pulled her to her feet. “Sometimes I worry that I am.”

She let him lead her out of the study and partway down the stairs before she had to say something.

“You can’t just leave those stones loose.”

He smiled. “You can’t help yourself, can you?”

She sighed. “I really don’t want to be an historian any longer.”

“But you can’t seem to keep away from it.”

“It keeps finding me,” she said defensively. “It isn’t as if I asked someone to plant priceless gems on me.”

“Twice, apparently.”

She looked up at him. “Are you trying to be helpful here?”

He smiled. When he smiled, she wanted to run. Admittedly, the man was just too handsome for her peace of mind, but that had been easier to ignore when she didn’t like him. But when he smiled at her as if he actually thought she wasn’t completely intolerable, it was very bad.

“Detour through the kitchen for a container,” he said, pulling her that way once they’d reached the bottom of the stairs. “So, does it really bother you to be pulled back into something you don’t want to do?”

“A little.”

“You’re very good at it, if that makes it any easier.”

She sighed, then looked up at him. “This is the last thing I investigate.”

“Ah, an investigative historian.” He shot her a smile. “Sexy.”

She felt her mouth fall open. “What happened to you? You’re so . . . happy.”

He laughed a little. “We are looking at a large fortune in Elizabethan gems and you have a piece of new but old lace and no one to claim it. What’s not to be happy about?”

She supposed he had a point.

She just hoped he didn’t pay a very steep price for that giddiness. She hoped she didn’t pay a price for the same. She had gone to Ambleside, sure that her adventures with thugs were over. Now, though, she had been drawn back into the thick of things, against her will and better judgment.

Though she had to admit, if she was going to be thrown into craziness, she couldn’t think of anyone better to be there with than the man walking next to her, humming something that sounded remarkably like a battle dirge.