The Wellspring (Kaitlyn and the Highlander #12) - Diana Knightley Page 0,28
see the book.”
They followed me from the vaults.
Lady Mairead’s sitting room was ornate, grandiose, and stuffed with a massive collection covering every square inch of space, leaving barely any room tae stand. Every surface was covered in art, pattern and color, pedestals filled the floor, every square inch of wall was draped and covered with curtains, tapestries, paintings and murals. I said under m’breath, “Och twill be hard tae find anything in here.”
Quentin laughed.
We wove around the art, moving things aside when necessary tae pass. I said tae Hammond, “I thought she was tae catalogue this and move it tae the storerooms or the museum.”
“I offered to send her some help, but she argued she could not trust anyone. She said this collection was priceless and irreplaceable.”
I glanced at a sculpture, leaning against another. “Tis also a fire-hazard.”
In the middle of the room a temporary table had been erected, antiques pushed away in all directions. The table was draped with cloth and in the middle was placed a painting wrapped in paper.
I ripped the paper down the front of the painting, exposing the Picasso painting of Lady Mairead, that I had been looking for. I flipped it over, ripped more paper and cleared the small door. I pressed my finger tae the security pad. It dinna open.
“She has been altering security, we need tae discuss it with her again.”
Seventeen - Magnus
Quentin and Hammond waited in the hall when I barged into her prison cell, and dropped the painting on the table in front of her.
She had been writing, she folded the papers and tucked them away in the pocket of a dark suit jacket.
I asked, “Hae ye changed yer clothes?”
“Nae,” she patted a gray silk scarf around her neck. “Ye hae locked me in a cell without the most basic necessities.”
I pointed at the painting. “Open it, I want tae see the book.”
“Which book, the one Kaitlyn stole from me? That she denied having?”
“The book that Kaitlyn returned tae ye, as a peace offering.”
She glared at me. “I ken which book, I just like tae watch ye shift because ye ken yer wife is a thief.” She noticed the torn paper. “Why would ye tear it? Twas wrapped tae go tae the museum for the unveiling, now I will need tape.”
I joked, “Och, we are tae wrap a painting for the unveiling: a likeness of a criminal, painted by the man-child Pablo. Twill be a grand event.”
“I am nae a criminal, I am your regent and your mother, and ye are behaving verra badly. This is a sign of yer disrespect for me, Magnus, and the painting is priceless. The public has never seen it before. Did ye bring gloves for me?”
“Nae, just open it. I canna, because ye hae taken me from the security…”
“Nae, I haena, what dost ye mean? Ye must hae done it incorrectly, try again.”
I pressed my finger tae the spot and it wouldna open.
“Ye hae broken it, ye break everything.” She pressed her finger tae the pad and the door clicked open. “Ye were nae doing it correctly.”
She gently opened the book, and turned pages finding a small stack of photos and glancing through them disinterestedly. “These must belong tae ye.”
I flipped through the photos. They were of Kaitlyn, holding Isla, with a smiling Archie beside her. They looked happy taegether, and Isla was reachin’ for me as if she could see me.
I unbuttoned the top few buttons on m’coat and tucked the photos away in an inside chest pocket.
She turned tae the back page where the vessels were listed. Her finger trailed down the page, counting. I could see over her shoulder, there were twenty-three vessels listed.
“Tis nae the same.”
She said, “I ken, I daena understand.”
My brow drew down. “How can ye hae allowed this?”
“Tis nae m’fault, I daena ken what has happened…”
I slammed my hand down on the table. “I ken what has happened, Sir Paddy has been stealin’ my vessels, he has at least one a’ready, and he’s comin’ for more. What did ye promise him?”
“Nae—”
I slammed my hand down again.
“Stop banging Magnus, ye are giving me a headache and I needs be thinking on—”
“Tell me what you did or you will spend the rest of your life here in this prison.”
She ignored me, closed the book, returned it to the back of the painting, and locked the door. Her hands shook as she tried to press the paper flat over it. “I will leave the book inside. It has somehow managed