Death of an Adept

"I'm sorry, darling," Peregrine murmured. "Can it be fixed?"

"Oh, I expect so; but I don't know that I dare risk any more dancing tonight, in case it catches again and gets worse," Julia replied, disappointment in her voice.

"Now, now, let's not be rash," Ximena said, bending down for a closer look. "If all Scottish dancing is this much fun, you mustn't think of missing it! Lace is easy to fix - certainly within the skill of these surgeon's hands." Grinning, she twiddled her fingers in the air between them. "Do you know if there's somewhere we can retreat to make repairs?"

An appeal to Janet resulted in a three-woman expedition to an upstairs bedroom, where Ximena delved into her evening bag and produced a miniature sewing kit before Janet could even find a spool of thread.

"Now I am impressed!" Janet exclaimed. "Not only is she beautiful and witty, but she comes prepared!"

Smiling impishly, Ximena shrugged the compliment aside and reeled off a length of ivory thread. "It's always seemed to me that a surgeon should keep a needle and thread handy at all times."

"Tell that to my husband," Janet said archly. "He won't even sew on a button in a pinch!"

"Ah, but he's used to having his surgeries nicely scheduled," Ximena said with a rueful chuckle, threading up a needle. "When you work in trauma, you have to be ready for anything, any time. And I have to say, my own state of preparedness in this regard goes back to long before I became a doctor. In my younger days, I used to do quite a bit of rock-scrambling - archaeology field trips and the like. That sort of thing can be really hard on your clothes."

Her tone implied a whole range of sartorial mishaps, and Julia laughed as Ximena bent to begin mending the lace flounce.

"Adam never mentioned you had an interest in historical monuments. Have you had much chance to go out hill-walking here in Scotland? You could do a whole tour of the West organized around castle ruins and standing stones."

"So I hear," Ximena agreed. "No, I'm afraid I haven't done much exploring at all. The last time I was here, I let work rule my life. That's one mistake I don't intend to make again."

"There's a certain baronet who could stand to learn that lesson," Janet remarked. "I'm glad he's found you, Ximena." "So am I," Ximena said with a tiny smile, keeping her gaze firmly on her work.

When the repairs to Julia's hem had been completed, the three women made their way back down to the conservatory, still chatting companionably. The dancing continued for a while longer before the band adjourned to take a break. During the interval, while a pair of waiters topped up champagne glasses, the Frasers' two daughters began circulating among the guests with trays of savories - smoked salmon on buttered brown bread, thin slices of toast spread with wild venison pate, and oatcakes topped with haggis, prelude to the buffet that would follow shortly after midnight.

When everyone's glass had been charged, a dapper and handsome Matthew Fraser moved to the center of the room and tapped resoundingly on the side of a glass. As all eyes turned toward him and conversation subsided, Janet came to slip her arm through his, beaming with secret delight.

"My lords, ladies, and gentlemen," Matthew announced, "first of all, Janet and I should like to take this opportunity to thank you for joining us this evening. Initially, this little party of ours was intended simply to celebrate the coming of the new year, which is still about half an hour away. However, it has come to my attention that we have another reason to celebrate tonight. Having no wish to keep you in suspense, I now call upon my dear friend and most respected colleague, Sir Adam Sinclair. He has a very important announcement to make - one which a good many of us have been awaiting for a very long time. Adam?" The ensuing announcement, transmitted by way of a listening device planted earlier that day by a woman posing as one of the caterers, was picked up by a surveillance team operating out of a panel van parked beyond the Erasers' garden wall. The black-clad man listening at the receiving console pressed one hand to his earpiece as he turned to his companion and grinned.

"Well, well, Sinclair is announcing his engagement. This should add some spice to our report. Must be that black-haired bit of stuff we saw him walk in with."

He adjusted the tuning and listened a moment longer.

"Name's Ximena Lockhart," he dictated over his shoulder to his assistant. "Doctor Lockhart. Who'd have thought a package like that would come equipped with brains? American, too, judging by the accent. Sinclair must have been a very busy boy while he was away."

"I'll say," his companion agreed. "Well, the boss is going to be very interested when he hears about this. Just think of the possibilities!"

Chapter Sixteen