Courting Carolina (14 page)

Jane rested back on her hands, closing her eyes and lifting her face to the noontime sun with a heavy sigh. “I still don’t know what to do, Kitalanta, as I’m beginning to think that hiding out here is only postponing the inevitable.” She pulled over her backpack to use as a pillow and lay down, running her hand over Kitty’s fur when he flopped down beside her and rested his chin on her stomach. “Alec seems to think he can help me get free of Father.” She snorted. “Without using my condom. But if you ask me, he’s the one who is clueless. Oh, he knows who Titus Oceanus is, since he’s familiar with the magic, but I would bet my emerald necklace that he’d be singing a different tune if he knew
my
real name.” Jane lifted her head so Kitty could see her scowl. “Sam made a mistake sending me to him. Alec won’t take my virginity, and he’s going to get himself killed if he tries to stand up to Father.” She flopped back with another snort. “So I guess it’s up to
me
to protect
him
. By the gods, men are—”

Jane stilled at the sound of heavy thumping. “Oh no, the helicopter! Come, Kitty,” she cried, grabbing her backpack and jumping to her feet. “We were supposed to be well past this brook by the time they got here,” she said, splashing through the knee-deep water and running farther down the trail.

Certain that she’d gone far enough, Jane pulled Kitty behind a large tree and looked up at the sky, only to gasp at the sight of Alec sitting on the bridge dangling beneath the helicopter. “You idiot!” she half shouted, half growled over the loud pounding of the blades. “You were supposed to run here, not fly!” She crawled over to a moss-covered boulder closer to the brook. “I swear I will kill him myself for pulling such a stupid stunt,” she muttered, hauling Kitty behind the rock with her. “The lazy bum wasn’t being thoughtful letting me locate the next shelter; he only wanted me out of the way so he wouldn’t have to run four miles.”

She flattened against the rock and had to raise a hand to protect her face when the rotating blades created a windstorm of dust and blowing leaves, then she had to grab Kitty when he tried to run off. Jane’s heart rose into her throat when she saw Alec was now hanging off one end of the bridge as it slowly descended through the trees, and she stopped breathing altogether when he suddenly reached out and snagged a wildly blowing branch to maneuver the bridge past a bent tree—only to then grab another branch and use it to swing himself to the ground!

Jane decided killing the idiot was too kind, and vowed to find a way to scare twenty years off his miserable life for scaring ten off hers.

Ignoring the rope dangling beside him, Alec grabbed hold of the bridge itself with one hand while signaling with the other; she assumed first to the crane operator when the structure stopped descending, then to the pilot when she saw the bridge moving upstream through the wind-battered trees. He signaled again and the bridge stopped, hovered momentarily, then slowly descended toward two large, flat rocks positioned on either side of the brook a dozen paces up from the trail. Alec then started pushing and tugging on the bridge, his muscles straining against his shirt as he wrestled the swaying structure into place.

Jane hugged Kitty to her, undecided which warring emotion was making her tremble: abject horror at the risk Alec was taking, sheer awe at how effortlessly he made it appear, or blatant envy of his obvious joy. She turned to lean her back against the boulder and buried her face in Kitty’s fur, no longer able to watch. Sweet Athena, what she wouldn’t give to experience that kind of passion, where time stopped and the world receded to nothing but the excitement of the moment.

Was that what Alec was doing out here in the wilderness, experiencing the joy of simply being alive, with no obligations to anyone but himself? No rules to follow but those of Mother Nature, no clocks saying it was time to get up or eat or go to bed, no reason to shave or even bathe if he didn’t wish to?

With no one constantly reminding him who he was and how he should act?

Was Alec MacKeage really not very bright, or was he wise beyond his years?

Jane pulled in a shuddering breath as she looked toward the brook—only to gasp again when she saw Duncan MacKeage descending through the trees on the cable. “Ohmigod,” she said, crouching lower and pulling Kitty down with her. Why was he here? And more importantly, how long was he staying? Could the cable pull him back into the helicopter, or did he intend to spend the night? Because she was fairly certain that had been a pillow dangling from his belt.

She had to get out of here, as Duncan would immediately recognize her even from a distance. And then he’d ask his nephew what he was doing with Maximilian’s sister, and she really would discover what Sam meant about not making Alec angry when he realized the full scope of her lies to him.

Jane’s heart sank when the helicopter lifted away and she heard the men talking above the fading thump of the rotor blades. She glanced over the rock again when Duncan gave a deep laugh and saw him clap Alec on the shoulder hard enough that Alec stumbled toward the stream. Only instead of retaliating, Alec jogged up to the bridge and gave it a shake before stepping onto it and jumping up and down.

“Have ye noticed any other odd happenings in the woods since finding those two dead men?” Duncan asked, tossing the pillow on the ground and following. “Because I’ve been feeling a strange energy around here lately.”

Alec walked off the bridge and knelt down to look underneath it. “It’s probably just Leviathan. Now that the kids are back in school, that love-struck old whale is depressed because he isn’t getting his daily dose of gummy worms.”

“No,” Duncan said, stopping beside Alec and crossing his arms. He shook his head. “This energy feels…aggressive.”

Alec stood up. “Where have ye been feeling it, and for how long?”

“Out on the fiord, mostly. The first time was the day after that freak thunderstorm killed those two men.” Duncan
shrugged. “Since then it’s been coming and going in pulses, like a wave that’s moving closer.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know what in hell it is, just that it doesn’t feel…right.”

“What does Mac say about it?”

“Only Olivia and the kids and Ezra came back from Midnight Bay yesterday, because Mac and Trace Huntsman headed out in Trace’s lobster boat to go visit Titus when he suddenly called them. I did manage to get through to Mac on his cell phone before he and Trace left, and when I told him I’ve been feeling a strange energy around here, he said I’m probably just overly sensitive to the magic—which isn’t uncommon, apparently, as he claims it takes years to master the kind of power he gave me. Then he got a bit aggressive-sounding himself,” Duncan said with a grin, “saying it was probably leftover energy from his parents’ last visit, which they’ve grown too fond of doing lately. But when I told him it was getting stronger, not weaker, he decided it must be some of the
more distant
guests trying to get here for Nova Mare’s grand opening ball.” He shook his head. “Apparently some of them haven’t quite mastered the art of breaching time.”

Jane sucked in a breath, hugging Kitty so tightly, he gave a soft whine. Father and Mother kept visiting Nova Mare? Sweet Athena, did they keep coming here hoping she’d cave in and finally come see Mac? She pulled in another shuddering breath, realizing that for as hard as her exile had been on her, it likely had been even more heartbreaking for her dear mama. And precious baby Ella; she hadn’t even held her new niece, having only seen pictures of Mac and Olivia’s sweet baby girl that Sam had texted her—pictures that had been in the cell phone the bastard who’d cut her hair had tossed on the floor and ground under his boot.

Jane peeked over the top of the boulder again in time to see Alec shake his head at Duncan. “Then if Mac’s not worried about the energy, why are you?”

“Because apparently it’s my
calling
to protect this area,” Duncan growled, waving toward Bottomless, “because His
Royal Pain-in-the-Ass is too busy protecting everyone else’s goddamn free will but mine.”

Jane saw Alec break into a grin. “That’ll teach you to ask for a mountain.”

“I didn’t ask! The bastard just up and gave me one.” Duncan strode onto the bridge and stopped on the other end to point across the fiord. “And every time I need its energy, the contrary thing is
napping
.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a tiny piece of red material and waved it like a flag. “Just like it was sleeping last night, when it should have been scaring off the owner of these panties.”

Jane slapped a hand to her mouth to stifle a gasp.

“I found them snagged on a rock in the brook where it comes out onto the beach when I was walking the dog,” Duncan continued. His eyes narrowed. “Didn’t I hear that rattletrap old boat of yours go by the house last night around eleven o’clock?”

Alec snorted and got down on his knees at his end of the bridge. “Sorry, uncle, but that lovely bit of lace isn’t my style—or my size.”

Jane leaned back against the rock again and covered her flaming cheeks with her hands. Uncertain of Alec’s mood last night when he’d finished his swim in the fiord, she hadn’t dared mention not being able to find her panties. She peeked over the boulder again to see both men on the upstream side of the bridge, stacking rocks against it at each end—she assumed to keep the flowing water from undermining the large, flat rocks Alec had set into place as abutments.

Their conversation continued, only now she no longer could hear what they were saying, and Jane wondered if she dared creep closer or if she should make a run for it while they were occupied. “Let’s go, Kitty,” she whispered, pushing the wolf toward the woods on the downside of the trail. She crawled on her hands and knees as silently as she could, hoping the babbling brook covered the sound of the crunching leaves.

Dammit to Hades, how long was Duncan staying? Because she really didn’t want to spend the night sandwiched
between Kitty and a rock, trying to hear a bear before she woke up to find it sitting on her chest. Jane stopped midcrawl. Oh no; if Duncan went back to the shelter he’d see her satchels!

She started crawling again, only this time at a diagonal back toward the brook until she was far enough down the mountain that she could stand up without being seen, then started running through the forest toward camp.

Chapter Eight

His patience gone and his mood as black as the cloud-covered night, Alec waved an obscene gesture over his shoulder as he opened the throttle on his brand-new shiny boat and headed across the fiord. Christ, his uncle could be long-winded sometimes, and he should have anticipated that Duncan would insist he come up to the house when Alec had taken him home. And that, of course, had led to his staying for supper, then to his having to smile his way through a campfire with Peg and the kids if he didn’t want to look suspicious, because they
always
had a campfire when he visited. Then he’d had to act all excited when Duncan had pulled a tarp off the bigger, faster, heavier boat he’d needed at the
beginning
of the season, not the goddamn end of it.

And the entire time he’d been basking in the glow of family, all he’d been able to think about was Jane alone back at the lean-to, curled up in the corner with all the lanterns blazing, hugging Kit as she held two pots to bang together.

He’d spent the afternoon working himself into a good fit of frustration, starting when state troopers had shown up to
ask more questions about the dead men since the rain had wiped out any usable evidence. Then he’d worried that Jane would suddenly come strolling down the trail, all while he kept finding excuses to keep Duncan away from camp. And he still didn’t know if his uncle suspected anything or not, because even without the magic he had now, Duncan had always been a little too astute—which certainly kept Alec on his toes and his lies to a minimum, especially when they talked about their respective
tours
of duty. That’s why he’d served occasional months in the Afghan mountains between missions, just so he could sound like he knew what he was talking about with his cousins and brothers and long-winded uncle.

Duncan had flown Black Hawks in Afghanistan and Iraq, their cousin Robbie MacBain—who also happened to be their clans’ magical Guardian—had spent several years in special ops, and another MacBain cousin was in the coast guard. Alec had supposedly been a marine, and his three brothers had been equally diverse: Ian had also been in special ops, Hamish had served on a carrier, and their younger brother, Seamus, was right now trying to make sense of the truckload of documents they’d found in Bin Laden’s lair. All of which made for some interesting conversations whenever they all managed to be home at the same time.

But every MacKeage and MacBain male was expected to serve at least one stint in the military, because they were first and foremost
warriors
. After that they were college-educated businessmen, expected to take over the ski resort and the MacBain Christmas tree farm when their fathers finally retired—which at the rate the elders were aging probably wouldn’t be for another thirty years. And all first-generation highlanders, male and female, were expected to help rebuild their respective clans to the greatness they once were, albeit in twenty-first-century Maine instead of medieval Scotland.