The Sapphire Brooch (The Celtic Brooch Trilogy Book 2) (21 page)

David stood, dropping the legal paid on top of the conference table. “Call me if ye’ can’t read my notes.”

“I’m teasing ye’, lad. Sit. Get on with it.”

David shifted his solid frame in the conference table chair. He flipped a page and continued reading through his notes. “Charlotte took McCabe to the Winchester Medical Center on October 18 for treatment of a bullet wound in his abdomen. She claimed she found him in the parking lot following the reenactment of the Battle of Cedar Creek.

“McCabe told the police he didn’t know who he was or who shot him. He stayed in the Winchester hospital for four days, then transferred to the Virginia Medical Center. He was released into the care of Jack Mallory, who also paid his medical bills. Mallory caught a flight to Atlanta this morning and has a two-night reservation at the Ritz-Carlton. Charlotte was on call this evening, but she’s changed her schedule.” David flipped a page on the notepad. “We ran the prints we got off the car. One set matches Charlotte’s—”

“Why are her prints on file?”

“She volunteered for a six-week program to provide surgical assistance in Afghanistan.”

“That took guts.”

David grunted. “Another set matches Jack Mallory’s. He was arrested in college for public intoxication. The case was dismissed. Arrested a few years ago on a murder charge—”

“
What
?”

“He was interviewing a biker gang and was arrested with them. Nothing came of it except an article he wrote afterwards trended on social media. I’m sure it sold more books.”

“What about Braham’s prints?”

David shook his head. “The man is a battle-hardened soldier. Ye’ can tell in the way he walks and stands, and ye’ can see it in his eyes. But there’re no prints in any database. No credit cards. No employment history. No birth record. Michael Abraham McCabe didn’t exist before October 18.”

Elliott sat back in chair. “What do you think?”

“He’s either in the federal witness protection program, or he’s telling the truth when he says he’s from the nineteenth century.”

Elliott guzzled a bottle of water then squeezed and popped the plastic. “I believe him.” He then threw the bottle toward the trashcan like a basketball. It missed and landed on the floor.

David howled. “Jim Manning can do it without missing. Ye’ can’t compete with yer lawyer.”

“They didn’t have basketball where I went to high school in Scotland, and I had no interest in learning when I was at Auburn vet school. Ye’re right. I can’t compete with a guy who played at the University of Kentucky. Call him and let him know about Braham. Something might come of this later, and I want him in the loop. Let him know about yer investigation, too. His legal skills will come in handy when yer cyber snooping and questionable contacts get ye’ into trouble.”

“What do ye’ want to do now?” David asked.

“Get Braham geared up. He’ll need a uniform, weapons, greenbacks, a wee bit of gold. I want him to go back with everything he needs. After three and a half years of war, I’m sure Sean the first is pressed for funds. How long will it take ye’ to gather supplies?”

“Four or five hours, and I’ll probably need the plane.”

“Kevin can fly the prop plane or you can take the jet. The Mallorys won’t notice Braham’s absence before seven or eight o’clock. Unless Charlotte flies in a private plane, she won’t get a flight out tonight. My bet is she and her brother will be here first thing in the morning. Braham needs to be gone by then.”

“I’ll be in my office at the stallion complex if you need me. If I have to go out, I’ll let you know.” David gathered up his laptops in one arm. With his free hand, he tossed his empty bottle of water into the trashcan, then turned and left the house through the French doors.

Elliott moved to the window behind his desk and stared out over the paddocks. The office door opened behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and smiled as his wife came up beside him. He pulled her into his arms.

“Have I told ye’ today how much I love ye’?”

She shook her head. “Not since I woke up.”

“He put his hands to her cheeks, eased her head back for the kiss he planned to give her, but paused to gaze into her eyes. “I love ye’, and I’ll always be grateful to Cullen Montgomery for saving yer life.”

“Did you tell Braham about Cullen’s ghost?”

“No, and I don’t intend to. Some stories don’t need to be retold.”

He gave her a tender, lingering kiss, caressing her lips lightly with his tongue. The pads of his fingertips glided down her neck. Her hands threaded through his hair, now longer just for her. For moments like this.

“Are you giving Braham the brooch?”

“Oh, aye. I only needed to verify a few things.”

She pulled away slightly and looked up at him. “Did you find the answers you wanted?”

He gathered her close, holding her tightly to his chest, his cheek pressed against her hair, relishing the sweet scent of her shampoo. “Most of them, but something doesn’t seem right. I can’t put my finger on it.”

“Trust your intuition. Are you going to talk to Charlotte?”

He pushed Meredith’s hair behind her ear and nibbled on her lobe, murmuring, “If it weren’t for Braham, Kit and Cullen never would have found each other again. She would want me to do whatever he asks of me.” He blew lightly on Meredith’s neck, knowing it would tickle.

She giggled softly, and her laughter enchanted him.

“Even if you have reservations?” she asked.

He blew again, and she pressed her body firmly against his growing erection. Every time Meredith was in his arms, desire burned through him, and he wanted her now as much as he had the first night he met her in Scotland.

“I understand Charlotte not wanting to return for fear of being stuck there, but why would she object if he found another way?”

“Maybe she’s already in love with him and doesn’t want him to leave.”

Elliott skimmed his hands down Meredith’s hips. “He’s leaving his love behind to honor his commitment to Lincoln. Honor I understand. But there’s more.”

Meredith held his look with a faint, sultry smile. “If he sees her, maybe it will be harder for him to say goodbye again. David told me she’s an excellent surgeon, beautiful, and wealthy. What’s not to love?”

“Maybe her wealth is the problem, since he would have nothing to offer her. Not even a name or family,” Elliott said.

“Well, Braham has us.”

The last rays of the dying sun fell softly through the window, crisscrossing Meredith’s face with light and shadow. Perfect light to paint her chin and cheek and lips with his finger. “Yes, he does.”

“I look forward to meeting Charlotte. I’ll know right away if she’s in love with him.”

“And if she’s not?”

Meredith rubbed against him “It could get complicated.”

Elliott chuckled against her lips. “From personal experience, I know ye’ can’t fight love.” He kissed her again, even more thoroughly. “When did we become such romantics?”

Her eyes sparkled with laughter. “When you decided you couldn’t live without me.”

21

MacKlenna Farm, Lexington, Kentucky, Present Day

E
lliott’s voice blared
from a box on the kitchen wall. “Braham.”

Braham jumped to his feet, then groaned, grabbing his side. Glancing at Mrs. Collins, he said, “What the hell was that?”

“If ye’re still in the kitchen,” Elliott continued, “please return to the office. Mrs. Collins, if ye’re there, buzz me back.”

Mrs. Collins pressed a button on the box. “We’re both here, Doctor Fraser. I ’spect he’s tired of listening to me blather on. He’ll be right there.” She picked up a plate of cookies. “Take these with you, David loves ’em.”

Braham hoped Elliott was going to help him go home, because Braham didn’t think he could tolerate any more fancy cars or talking boxes. He took the cookies and walked down the stately mansion’s long hall and stopped at the foot of the center sweep of stairs, remembering the day Kit went into labor. Her water broke almost exactly where he was standing. It had been a day mixed with joy, fear, and a very long wait.

Cullen had passed out cigars, his face bright with exhilaration. At the time Braham had been elated for them both. Now, though, as a flood of recollections burst through the dam constructed to keep them in a hidden corner of his brain, a jumble of sorrow and loneliness overwhelmed him. He shook off the feeling, or tried to. Shoved the memories back behind the dam, or tried to. Stepped over the spot on the floor, scrubbing it from his conscious thought, or tried to. All he succeeded in doing was chastising himself for being full of regrets instead of being grateful he was still alive.

The door to the office was open. He knocked on the doorjamb. A young, strapping man, broad-shouldered and narrow of waist and hip, peered over Elliott’s shoulder at the stack of papers he was holding. The lad had close-cropped brown hair and, when he turned toward Braham, revealed large brown eyes. He flashed Braham an easy smile. Braham recognized him for what he was—a powerful warrior.

“Come in. Sit.” Elliott pointed to the man standing behind him. “This is David McBain. He’s been busy since ye’ showed up at the security gate.” Elliott held up the stack of papers. “We know everything that’s happened to ye’ since ye’ were supposedly found in the parking lot at the Cedar Creek Battlefield.”

Braham’s heart rate increased, but he steeled himself against showing emotion. He casually set the cookies on Elliott’s desk and prepared to hear the word
no.
If Elliott did, in fact, turn him down, Braham would take his case to Meredith. He would not leave MacKlenna Farm without the brooch, even if he had to steal it.

“I believe yer story,” Elliott said, “And because ye’re my goddaughter’s cousin, I’ve decided to loan ye’ her brooch.”

The words
loan ye’
swept away the top layer of tension Braham carried in his tight muscles. But only the top. What conditions would Elliott impose?

David picked up a few sheets of paper from the desk, came around to Braham’s chair, and handed the pages to him. “We found reenactors willing to sell uniforms, pants, shirts, jackets, belts, boots, hats. Everything ye’ need.”

Braham thumbed through the pages, arching an eyebrow at the detail on the uniforms. Whoever made them knew what they were doing.

“You’ll have to try them on, and a tailor will have to make adjustments, but we’ve been assured a complete uniform will be ready tonight,” David said.

“As for weapons, those were harder to come by,” Elliott said.

David flipped to the last page of pictures. “We did find a saber and two Colt revolvers. They’re all in excellent condition, but I decided to go with these,” he said, pointing to the pictures. “The revolvers are reproductions of the 1862 Pocket Navy .38 caliber. If I had my druthers, I’d send ye’ back with an assault rifle, a sig, and a laser-guided furball.”

The only thing Braham had understood was the word rifle.

Elliott held out an envelope. “David, hand this to him.”

“Here’s five hundred dollars in greenbacks,” David said. “It’s all we could find on short notice. Again, they’re antiques, but I don’t think this late in the war anyone will notice they’re old.”

“You’ve gone to a great deal of trouble and expense on my behalf.”

Elliott sat back in his chair and folded his hands across his flat belly. A sly grin appeared on his face. “I can afford it. Kit would expect it, and Meredith told me if I didn’t help ye’ I would sleep alone tonight.”

“Ye’ need to rest now,” David said to Braham. “Ye’ been out of the war zone for a few weeks. Ye’ need to prepare for going back in. Ye’re still recovering from major surgery, too, which likely will slow ye’ down a wee bit, and ye’ll be more afraid to take a punch that wouldn’t have bothered ye’ verra much before. The guest room is prepared. Take a shower. Rest. When ye’ get up, it’ll be time to go.” David tapped his forehead. “Ye’ need to be ready up here.”

His speech confirmed David was also a soldier, as Braham had suspected. Braham shook his hand. “Thank you.”

David clasped Braham’s shoulder. “I’d go with ye’, but this isn’t my war.”

“Mrs. Collins has prepared Kit’s room. Top of the stairs. Go rest,” Elliott said.

Braham nodded. “I do have one question. Are you going to call the Mallorys?”

Elliott scratched underneath his chin with his buffed thumbnail, thinking. “If I don’t hear from them this evening, I’ll call the doctor in the morning and make arrangements to return her vehicle.”

Braham tapped the envelope against his fingers. “When you talk to her, tell her…tell her I’m sorry I didn’t thank her for all she did for me. And tell Jack, too. They’re good people.”

Elliott picked up his bottle of water, unscrewed the lid, lifted the bottle to his mouth, then paused. “I’ll tell ye’ what Meredith said, and ye’ can take it or leave it.” Without taking a sip, he screwed the top back on and set the bottle down. “She said, ‘This won’t be the end—’”

Meredith entered the room saying, “—of the Charlotte and Braham story. I predict this is only a crossroads. What lies ahead will be full of potholes, but if you are meant to be together, which I believe you are, you’ll find a way through them, around them, and over them. And I look forward to the day when we’re
all
sitting in this room together, Charlotte and Jack included.”