Lion of Caledonia(15)

Find the ring. Leave.

A flash of movement outside seized her attention. She swung back to see…nothing.

The ghost?

Her mouth firmed. There was no such thing as ghosts. She sucked in a breath and marched out of the shed.

Not a living thing anywhere, except for one robin perched on the old stone wall, staring at her suspiciously. Jen craned her neck one way, then the other. Nothing. She stomped around the shed, determined to find this nonexistent person. For two weeks, she’d felt as if she were being watched, and she’d had enough.

The hawthorn hedge’s leaves trembled, like someone was climbing through the thick growth.

Doubting her sanity, she walked over and kneeled down. A snug, tight tunnel wove through the overgrown hedge. A quick glint of murky sunlight gleamed off a shoe buckle before it disappeared.

She knew this was stupid, even as she planted her hands on the wet, cold soil and began to crawl. The best thing to do was go back to the house and start exploring the second floor, not crawl into a bunch of hedges. But something stubborn inside pushed her forward. Whoever this person was, they’d been spying on her and it was time it stopped.

The tunnel wove through the hedge and she became more and more impressed. Whoever had planned this, had spent quite a bit of time making this escape route.

She stuck her head out of the hedge on the other side, ready to congratulate as well as interrogate.

No one. She must have chosen the wrong passage at some point.

“Sod it,” she grumbled to herself.

Getting to her feet, she brushed off the worst of the twigs and leaves. She looked up to see the spread of the wild moor before her. Not a movement of any living thing caught her attention.

Whoever was spying on her was smart.

“Sod you,” she muttered to the empty landscape.

There was no way she was going to crawl back through the wet hedge. She’d just have to find an alternative route to the house. To do that, the best thing she could do was climb to the top of the moor and see what her alternatives were.

The air was crisp and cool, bringing with it a hint of smoky peat and musky heather. The sun glanced off the parade of customary clouds rolling through the sky. Once again, she was glad she’d packed her sturdy walking shoes. The moor was filled with stone outcrops mixed with little rivulets of water running down toward the loch.

The wind wrapped around her, and she stuck her hands in the coat’s pockets as she drew abreast of the top.

“Looking for ghosts, Ms. Douglas?”

At the sound of the familiar voice, Jen spun around.

Cameron Steward stood on the other side of the moor in a small indent, which was why she hadn’t seen him until it was too late.

She saw more of him than she needed.

“Only stretching my legs.” Her hands knotted in the coat pockets.

His tawny brows drew down in a characteristic movement she’d become far too aware of. “Did ye walk all the way from the house?”

“Yes.” She turned to stare at the estate before she got caught staring at him with her usual fascination.

“Not possible.” Rambling closer than she’d have liked, he gazed at his home with a sullen glower. “It takes me a good hour to get here, walking around that damn hedge, and I spotted ye working in the garden no more than a half hour ago.”

So he hadn’t been the one she’d been trailing. Logically, she’d already known this to be the case. The tunnel had been almost too small for her, much less this man.

“Nothing to say, Ms. Douglas?”

He’d started to use her title a lot in the last week. Every time, one edge of his mouth would curl, as if expressing distaste for her English hoity-toity manners.

“I’m not a snob, you know.” She braved a glance straight into his odd eyes.

“No?” The typical curl edged into a smirk. “You’re not, are ye? You’re just professional.”

“Yes and what’s wrong with that?” She knew she should turn and leave, but this seemed important for some reason. As if she had to take a stand.

For what reason, she had no idea.

“Wrong?” Crossing his solid arms, he leaned back, looking puzzled. “Maybe because we’ve spent the better part of two weeks holed up alone, which makes the whole Mr. and Ms. thing rather ridiculous.”

Holed up alone.

Another thump landed in her stomach.

“Or maybe it’s because we’re not in some swanky office building surrounded by hundreds of dutiful employees.” The way he said the words told her he’d never find himself in such a situation. And honestly, she couldn’t imagine Cameron Steward sitting in a cubicle, staring at some computer.

Another solid thump of recognition and response drummed inside.