Macgowan Meets His Match. Annette Broadrick

overnight visitors. He prefers his own company, you see.”

      “Yes, I did get that impression,” she replied wryly as Hazel opened the door.

      “Oh, dear. I hope he didn’t put you off from working for him. He’s a dear, really. Just a trifle impatient. He’s eager to return to work.”

      “I see,” Jenna replied politely if not truthfully. He hadn’t mentioned his profession to her. Since she was there to transcribe his novel, whatever else he did was none of her business.

      Hazel walked into the room and said, “Here we are. I hope you’ll be comfortable.” She crossed the sitting room and opened a door. “Your bedroom is through here. It has an attached bath. During the latest remodeling, the MacGowans decided to turn the bedrooms into comfortable apartments with modern conveniences, including some much-needed closet space.”

      Jenna was speechless. She’d had no idea that she would be living in what looked to be a royal apartment, with its ornate woodwork and cornices, rich draperies and rugs, as well as museum-quality furniture.

      “I’m trying not to think of my being here as part of a fairy tale, but it’s difficult not to with everything you’ve shown me.”

      “Complete with an ogre when Ian’s in one of his moods.”

      Jenna burst into surprised laughter. “I was thinking along the same lines. Oh, my, it isn’t at all polite to joke about my employer.” She could feel her cheeks glow with embarrassment.

      “Don’t worry about it. Ian has a great sense of humor. He just keeps it packed away most of the time until it must get rusty with disuse.” Hazel walked back into the sitting room. “If there’s anything you need, please let me know.”

      Jenna smiled. “Thank you. This is wonderful. I feel as though I should be paying you for the privilege of living here.”

      “Don’t worry. After a few days of working to catch up with Ian, you’ll feel that you’ve more than earned your keep!” With a quick wave of her hand, Hazel left the room.

      Jenna knew she needed to return downstairs as soon as possible, but after Hazel left she couldn’t resist taking a peek out the windows. When she did she discovered that she had a bird’s-eye view of extensive gardens that were obviously planned to be a showcase.

      She promised herself a closer look as soon as possible, but for now she needed to freshen up and return to where Ian awaited her. She didn’t need to incur his displeasure by dawdling.

      Once in the hallway, she looked around her, hoping to gain some familiarity with her section of the castle. Too bad she hadn’t thought to sprinkle bread crumbs on the way to her quarters so she could find her way back to the library. Shades of some gothic novel where a castle holds myriad secrets for an unsuspecting employee to discover!

      Luckily she found her way with only one detour. Ian stepped out of the library as she came down the last few steps. With a short nod by way of acknowledging her presence, Ian said, “I’ll show you to your office.”

      This close to him, Jenna was acutely aware of his size. She barely came to his shoulder. There must be Viking blood in his veins. She could picture one of his ancestors wielding a five-foot sword during a clan dispute without breaking a sweat.

      “Here we are,” he said, and opened a door at the back of the hallway. He motioned for her to enter. When she did, she was pleasantly surprised to see that the room was quite cozy and well lit from a bank of windows. She would enjoy working here.

      “This is quite lovely,” she said, smiling. A computer sat at a fully equipped workstation.

      “I believe you’ll find everything you need.”

      She followed him to the desk and quickly scanned its contents. She nodded without looking at him.

      He pointed to a stack of tapes. “These are the tapes I mentioned. They must look overwhelming to you and for that, I’m sorry. Do the best you can.” He glanced at her and added, “Do you think you’ll be able to manage?”

      “Don’t worry. I really am well trained for this sort of thing.”

      “Good. After you print out what you’ve transcribed, leave it on my desk in the library. If you have questions and I’m not available, attach a note to the place and I’ll answer it when I can. Any questions?”

      “No. I believe you’ve been quite clear.”

      “You haven’t asked about days off.”

      Amused, she said, “Not with that much work waiting for me. I don’t dare,” she said, grinning. “Don’t worry. I’ll let you know when I need a break. I’m fairly flexible about working out a routine. If I fear that you’re taking advantage of my good nature,” she added, tongue in cheek, “I will—of course—immediately make it known to you.”

      He gave an abrupt nod and turned away. Without looking back he said, “I’ll leave it to you, then.”

      Once the door closed behind him, Jenna pulled out the chair and sat in front of the computer. She turned it on and was pleased to see that the latest in software programs had been installed. She picked up the first tape, placed it in the transcribing machine, adjusted the earphones and began her new job, four hours after leaving her interview with Violet Spradlin.

      While Ian went through his physical therapy program that afternoon, he recalled the incident that had almost killed him. It had been the basis of many a nightmare during the past few months.

      As a member of the Security Service, the U.K.’s civilian intelligence agency, he was used to covert operations. Only a handful of people knew what he actually did for the government. Even his parents thought he had a desk job somewhere in the maze of government offices.

      His last assignment called for him to infiltrate a terrorist cell. In the midst of a meeting that took place in the basement of an abandoned building, one of their explosives went off without warning.

      Several were killed outright. He would have been, as well, if he hadn’t been somewhat protected by a concrete pillar.

      The blast had thrown him several feet. When he landed, his left arm and leg were broken and his knee was damaged.

      He didn’t remember anything about the explosion. The first he knew something had happened was when he became fully conscious in the hospital.

      The pain had pulled him out of the gentle darkness where he rested. The throbbing rhythm had coursed through him, which had told him he’d been hurt badly.

      “Ian,” a quiet voice said, “wake up. We need to talk.”

      His supervisor, Todd Brewster, stood beside the bed watching him when Ian forced his eyes open.

      “Did you get the license number of the lorry that ran over me?” Ian said hoarsely.

      “I asked them to ease up on the pain medication long enough for you to be able to talk.”

      “How thoughtful of you,” Ian muttered. “What happened?”

      “What do you remember?”

      Ian forced himself to concentrate, his sluggish brain slow to respond. “The last thing I remember was the cell meeting.”

      “Do you recall what was discussed?”

      Ian did his best to report details. He ended with “Who else was hurt?”

      “Out of the five there, three were killed outright and the other is in critical condition. We decided that the identity you assumed was also killed.”

      Ian closed his eyes. After a moment Todd said, “The word is that you were in a bad car smash-up. You’ll be on medical leave with full pay until you recover.”

      “Since I’m wearing casts on my arm and leg, I presume they’re broken. What else?”

      “Your leg is