Shadow Dance (Buchanan-Renard 6)

She shrugged. “Maybe I’ll do some consulting work,” she said.

“I know you’ve had a lot of offers,” Michael said, “but take some time, Jordan, before you jump into something else. Kick back and relax. Have some fun.”

Tonight was about Dylan and Kate, she reminded herself. She could worry about her future tomorrow.

Noah was taking forever to walk up the stairs. He kept getting waylaid by family and friends.

“Why don’t you go inside?” Michael urged. “And stop worrying about Noah. He knows how young Isabel is. He’s not going to do anything inappropriate.”

Michael was right about Noah, but Jordan couldn’t say the same for Isabel.

“Go and get her, will you? Bring her inside.”

She didn’t have to ask twice. Her brother was halfway across the veranda before the doorman had opened the door for her.

Jordan didn’t have to be a watchdog after all. Noah was a perfect gentleman, just as Michael had predicted he would be. However, there were several rather persistent young women who couldn’t keep their hands off him, and he certainly didn’t seem to mind the attention. Since they were all over the age of twenty-one, Jordan figured they knew what they were doing.

Noah’s virtuous behavior freed her from her responsibilities, and she actually began to enjoy herself. By nine o’clock she had had it with her contacts though. She found Noah, who still had her glasses and her lens case in his jacket pocket. He was on the dance floor with a platinum blonde swaying to the slow music. Jordan interrupted long enough to get her lens case and then headed for the ladies’ room.

There was a commotion in the foyer. The strangest-looking man was arguing with the country club’s security detail. They in turn were strongly urging him to leave, but he was having none of it. One of the federal agents had already patted him down to make certain he wasn’t carrying a weapon.

“It’s unheard of to treat a guest the way I’m being treated,” he blustered. “I’m telling you Miss Isabel MacKenna will be happy to see me. I’ve misplaced my invitation, that’s all, but I assure you I was invited.”

He spotted Jordan walking toward him and gave her a bright smile. One of his front teeth crossed over the other and protruded just enough to make his upper lip catch whenever he spoke.

She didn’t know whether she should interfere. He was acting so peculiar. He kept snapping his fingers and bobbing his head as though he were agreeing with someone, but no one was talking to him now. His clothing was bizarre too. Though it was the shank of the summer, the stranger wore a heavy wool tweed blazer with leather elbow patches. Needless to say, he was sweating profusely. His unruly beard was soaked through. There were streaks of gray in his beard, but she honestly couldn’t judge how old he was. He was clutching an old leather folder to his chest, and there were papers sticking out every which way.

“May I be of assistance?” she asked.

“Are you with the MacKenna wedding party?”

“Yes, I am.”

His smile widened as he tucked the thick folder under his arm and dug into his plaid wool vest pocket. He pulled out a wrinkled and stained card and handed it to her.

“I’m Professor Horace Athens MacKenna,” he proudly announced. He waited until she had read his name on the card and then snatched it away from her and tucked it back in his vest pocket. He patted the pocket several times as he continued to smile at her.

The security detail had backed away but were warily watching him. No wonder—Professor MacKenna was a bit odd.

“I cannot tell you how thrilled I am to be here.” He extended his hand and added, “This is a momentous occasion. A MacKenna marrying a Buchanan. It’s stunning. Yes, stunning.” He chuckled as he added, “I imagine our MacKenna ancestors are twisting and turning in their graves.”

“I’m not a MacKenna,” she said. “My name is Jordan Buchanan.”

He didn’t rip his hand away from hers, but he came close. His smile disappeared, and he seemed to recoil. “Buchanan? You’re a Buchanan?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“All right,” he said. “All right then. It is a wedding of a MacKenna to a Buchanan. Of course I would be meeting Buchanans. Stands to reason, doesn’t it?”

She was having trouble following. Professor MacKenna’s accent was thick and most unusual, a combination of a Scottish brogue and a southern drawl.

“I’m sorry. Did you say the MacKenna ancestors would be turning in their graves?” she asked, certain she’d misunderstood.

“Yes, that’s what I said, dearie.”

Dearie? He was getting stranger by the second.

“I imagine the Buchanans would be doing a fair amount of tossing in their unholy graves too,” he continued.

“And why would that be?”

“The feud, of course.”

“The feud? I don’t understand. What feud?”

He whipped out his handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his brow. “I’m getting ahead of myself. You must think I’m crazy.”

Yes, that was exactly what she was thinking.

Fortunately, he didn’t require a response to his statement. “I’m parched,” he announced. He tilted his head toward the ballroom she had just exited. “I could use some refreshment.”

“Yes, of course. Please, come with me.”

He latched on to her arm and glanced suspiciously over his shoulder as they walked. “I’m a history professor at Franklin College in Texas. Have you heard of Franklin?”

“No,” she admitted. “I haven’t.”

“It’s a fine school. It’s located just outside Austin. I teach medieval history, or at least I did until I came into some unexpected money and decided to take some time off. A sabbatical of sorts. You see,” he continued, “about fifteen years ago I began researching my family history. It’s been a most invigorating hobby for me. Did you know that there’s bad blood between us?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Bad blood between the Buchanans and the MacKennas, I mean to say. This wedding should never have taken place if history tells us anything.”

“Because of a feud?”

“That’s right, dearie.”

Okay, it was official, she decided. The man was wacko. She was suddenly thankful the agent had checked him for hidden weapons, and she was uneasy about taking him into the ballroom, especially if he was intent on making a scene. On the other hand, he did seem harmless, and he did know Isabel…at least he said he did.

“About Isabel,” she began, determined to find out how the professor knew Kate’s sister.

He was too caught up in his story to listen.

“The feud has been going on for centuries, and every time I think I’ve gotten to the root of it, lo and behold, I find another contradiction.” He vigorously nodded several times and then darted another quick glance behind him as if fearful that someone would sneak up on him. “I’m proud to say I’ve tracked the feud all the way back to the thirteenth century,” he boasted.

As soon as he paused to take a breath, Jordan suggested they find Isabel.

“I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to see you,” she said. Or appalled, she thought silently.

They continued along the corridor and entered the ballroom just as a waiter was passing by with a silver tray of champagne flutes. The professor took a glass, gulped the drink down, and hurriedly reached for another.

“My, that’s refreshing. Is there food?” he asked bluntly.

“Yes, of course. Come, we’ll find you a seat at one of the tables.”

“Thank you,” he said, but he didn’t budge. “About Miss MacKenna…” His gaze circled the ballroom as he said, “I haven’t actually met the woman. In fact, you’ll have to point her out to me. I’ve been corresponding with her for some time now, but I have no idea what she looks like. I know that she’s young and that she’s in college,” he added. He gave Jordan a sly look and said, “I imagine you’re wondering how I found her in the first place, aren’t you?”

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bsp; Before she could answer, he shifted the fat folder from one arm to the other and motioned to a waiter to bring him another drink.

“I make it a habit to read every newspaper I can get my hands on. I like to keep current,” he explained. “Of course, I read the major papers on the Internet. I read everything from political events to obituaries, and I do retain most of what I read,” he boasted. “It’s true. I never forget anything. It’s how my brain works. I’ve also been tracing my family history, and tied to my history is the ownership of Glen MacKenna. I found out through court records that Miss MacKenna will inherit the magnificent land in just a few years.”

Jordan nodded. “I’ve heard that Isabel’s great-uncle left her a sizable peace of land in Scotland.”

“Not just any land, dearie, Glen MacKenna,” he scolded. He sounded like a professor now, lecturing one of his students. “The land is tied to the feud, and the feud is tied to the land. The Buchanans and the MacKennas have been at war for centuries. I don’t know what the exact origin of the dispute was, but it has something to do with a treasure that was stolen from the glen by the vile Buchanans, and I’m determined to find out what it was and when it was taken.”

Jordan ignored the insult to her ancestors as she pulled out a chair for the professor at the nearest table. He dropped his folder down, and said, “Miss MacKenna has shown quite an interest in my research, so much so that I’ve invited her to come and see me. I couldn’t possibly bring everything with me, you see. I’ve been doing this research for years.”

He looked expectantly at her. She assumed he wanted some sort of response, and so she nodded and asked, “Where do you live, Professor?”

“In the middle of nowhere.” He grinned after making the statement and explained. “Because of my financial situation…my inheritance,” he corrected, “I’ve been able to move to a peaceful little town called Serenity deep in Texas. I spend my days reading and researching,” he added. “I enjoy the solitude, and the town is really an oasis. It would be a charming spot to retire to, but I will probably go back to where I was born, Scotland.”

“Oh? You’re going home to Scotland?” Jordan scanned the room for Isabel.

“Yes, that’s right. I want to visit all the places I’ve read about. I don’t remember them.” He pointed to the folder. “I’ve written down some of our history for Miss MacKenna to read. Most of the heartache the MacKenna clan has had to endure has been the fault of the Buchanan clan,” he said, wagging his finger in her face. “You might want to have a peek at my research too, but I’ll warn you, chasing these legends and trying to get to the bottom of things can become an obsession. On the other hand, it is also a delightful distraction from the humdrum of everyday life. Why, it could even become a passion.”

Passion indeed. As a mathematician and a computer engineer, Jordan dealt with facts and abstracts, not fantasy. She could design any business plan and the computer software to go with it. She loved solving puzzles. She couldn’t think of anything that was more of a waste of time than chasing down legends, but she wasn’t about to get into a lengthy discussion with the professor. She was going to find Isabel as quickly as possible. After settling Professor MacKenna at a table with a plate of food in front of him, she started her search.

Isabel was outside and just about to sit down when Jordan grabbed her.

“Come with me,” she said. “Your friend Professor MacKenna has arrived. You get to take care of him.”

“He’s here? He came here?” Isabel looked astonished.

“You didn’t invite him?”

She shook her head. Then she changed her mind. “Wait. I might have invited him, but not formally. I mean he wasn’t on the list. We’ve been communicating with each other, and I mentioned where the wedding and reception were being held because he wrote that he was touring the Carolinas and would be in this area around this time. He actually showed up? What’s he like?”

Jordan smiled. “He’s difficult to describe. You’ll just have to see for yourself.”

Isabel followed Jordan inside. “Did he tell you about the treasure?”

“A little,” she answered.

“What about the feud? Did he tell you about the Buchanans and the MacKennas fighting all the time? The feud’s been going on for centuries. Since I’m inheriting Glen MacKenna, I want to know as much as possible about the history.”

“You sound enthusiastic,” Jordan said.

“I am. I’ve already decided I’m going to be a history major, and I’ll minor in music. Did the professor bring any of his research with him? He wrote that he had boxes and boxes…”

“He has a folder with him.”

“But what about the boxes?”

“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask him.”

The professor showed better manners with Isabel. He stood and shook her hand.

“It’s a great honor to meet the new owner of Glen MacKenna. When I get to Scotland I will be certain to tell my clansmen that I’ve met you, and that you’re as bonny a lass as I thought you would be.”

He turned to Jordan then and said, “I’ll also be telling them about you.”

It wasn’t what he said but how he said it that pricked her curiosity.

“Me?”

“The Buchanans,” he corrected. “You do know that Kate MacKenna married beneath her.”

He’d raised her ire with that remark. “And why is that?” she asked.

“Why, the Buchanans are savages. That’s why.” He pointed to the folder and said, “In here is just a sample of some of the atrocities against the peace-loving MacKennas. You should read it and then you’ll understand how fortunate your relative is to be married to a MacKenna.”

“Professor, are you intentionally insulting Jordan?” Isabel asked, shocked.

“She’s a Buchanan,” he said. “I’m simply stating the facts.”

“Just how accurate is your research?” Jordan folded her arms across her chest and frowned at the rude man.

“I’m a historian,” he snapped. “I deal in facts. I’ll grant you that some of the stories could be…legends…but there’s quite a bit of research to make the stories credible.”

“As a historian you believe you have proof that the MacKennas are all saints and the Buchanans are all sinners?”

“I know it sounds slanted, but the proof is indisputable. Read it,” he challenged once again, “and you can only come to one conclusion.”

“That the Buchanans are savages?”

“I’m afraid so,” he said cheerfully. “They’re thieves as well,” he added. “They’ve chipped away at the MacKenna land until Glen MacKenna is barely half the size it used to be. And of course they stole the treasure too.”

“The treasure that started the feud,” Jordan said, letting her irritation show.

He gave her a sly grin and then dismissed her as he turned to Isabel. “I couldn’t travel with all the boxes, and I’ll have to put them in storage when I leave for Scotland. If you want to look through them, you’d best come to Texas within the next two weeks.”

“You’re leaving in two weeks? But I start school, and I…” She stopped, took a breath, and blurted, “I can miss the first week.”

Jordan stopped her. “Isabel, you can’t miss an entire week. You’ll need to get your class schedule and your books…you can’t go running off to Texas. Why can’t the professor e-mail the research files to you?”

“Most of my research is handwritten, and I’ve only put a few dates and names on my computer. I could send those, and I will as soon as I get back home, but without my papers, none of it will make sense to you.”

“What about mailing the boxes?” Jordan suggested.

“Oh, no, I could never do that,” he said. “The expense…”

“We’ll pay for shipping,” Jordan offered.

“I don’t trust the mail. Those boxes could get lost, and that’s years of research. No, no, I won’t risk it. You’ll have to come to Texas, Isabel. Perhaps wh

en I come back…although…”

“Yes?” Isabel asked, thinking he had come up with a solution.

“I might decide to stay in Scotland, depending on my finances, and if I do, my research materials will stay in storage until I’m ready to return for them. If you wish to read what I’ve accumulated, it’s now or never,” he asserted.

“Could you have someone photocopy the files?” Isabel asked.

“I have no one to do it for me, and I simply don’t have the time. I’m getting ready for my trip. You’ll have to make the copies yourself when you come.”

Isabel let out a huge sigh of frustration, and Jordan, seeing how important this was to her, felt sympathy for her dilemma. As irritated as she was that the professor had created a biased record against her ancestors, she was sorry that Isabel wouldn’t get to learn more about the history of her land.

“I might decide to do a little research on my own,” Jordan said as she stood to leave Isabel and the professor to finish their discussion.

The obnoxious man had gotten under her skin, and she was determined to dig up a few facts to prove him wrong. The Buchanans were all savages? What kind of a history professor would make such a blanket statement? Just how credible was he? Was he really a history professor? Jordan was definitely going to check him out.

“Perhaps I’ll prove the Buchanans were the saints,” she asserted.

“That’s hardly possible, dearie. My research is impeccable.”

She glanced over her shoulder as she walked away. “We’ll see.”

IT WAS AFTER TEN BEFORE JORDAN FINALLY HAD A CHANCE TO remove her contacts. She walked back to the ballroom and stood near the entrance trying to spot Noah in the crowd on the dance floor. He still had her glasses in his pocket.

Professor MacKenna had left the reception an hour before, and Isabel had apologized profusely for his rude behavior. Jordan told her not to worry, that she hadn’t been offended, and she left Isabel fretting about the boxes of research. Jordan thought about offering to help her out but changed her mind. Even though she was, as Michael reminded her, fancy-free these days and was curious to read some of his likely bogus research, doing so meant she would have to suffer more of the professor’s company. No, thank you. Nothing was worth spending even one hour with that man.