A Trap So Tender. Jennifer Lewis

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СКАЧАТЬ was more or less a town in its heyday. Everyone lived inside the defended area. Some still do—the estate manager and his staff.”

      “I can see how a person could get lonely here.”

      “You don’t know the half of it. Makes Singapore seem very welcoming by comparison.”

      Fiona stared at him for a moment, feeling sudden affection for this man who felt more at home in a bustling, noisy Asian city than in the baronial halls of his ancestors. He seemed more human all the time.

      Again, not a good thing.

      “You must need a large staff to keep this place alive.”

      “Not really. I know the villagers think I should do more with it, but as long as someone keeps the roof solid and the windows sealed, it takes care of itself. Sheep keep the grass down. A stone fortress is very low maintenance compared to a modern house.”

      Someone must climb on a scaffold almost weekly to keep those monster hedges at the entrance manicured to perfection. Maybe he had no idea how much work it took to keep the place running. He probably didn’t care. It was all pocket change to him.

      The car pulled up in a gravel courtyard the size of a football field. Not a weed in sight. Two men in dark suits carrying walkie-talkies appeared from behind more manicured bushes, but stilled at the sight of the car.

      “The hired security. I don’t know what my cousin was thinking when she announced a reward for finding the cup.”

      “She knew it would get people interested. Obviously she was right.” James climbed out of the car, and the driver opened her door and helped her out. She was starting to feel like a royal dignitary with all this VIP treatment. It might be hard to go back to ordinary life after this.

      An older man emerged from the house and he and the driver carried their bags inside after a brief exchange with James. “Is he your butler?”

      James nodded. “We call Angus the household manager. Sounds more modern, don’t you think?”

      “Oh, yes.” There was nothing modern about any of this. Which piqued her curiosity to get more of a glimpse into James Drummond’s rarefied life. With no bags to carry, she walked across the vast expanse of gravel feeling rather at a loss. Her cute stiletto heels kept tipping her this way and that, and James’s bold stride almost left her behind by the time they reached a veritable cliff of stone steps.

      He turned and extended his arm. She had no choice but to take it. She tried to ignore the trickle of sensation that crept up her arm and across her body. You’d think a full day of travel in close proximity to the man might have killed any spark of sexual attraction. Unfortunately, however, it had stoked it into a steady flame. Good thing she was ruled by her head and not more unpredictable parts of her anatomy.

      The doorway into the house looked more suited to a grand cathedral. She almost expected the smell of incense and the murmur of monks; instead, she was greeted by an aroma of bacon and the distant barking of dogs.

      “You have dogs?”

      “Not me. I travel too much. The hounds for the local hunt are kept on the estate. They gather here to hunt and I join them when I’m around. I won’t do it when you’re here, of course.”

      “Why not?”

      “It would be rude of me to leave you.”

      “Maybe I could come, too?” She lifted a brow.

      He frowned. “Hunting is done on horseback.”

      She laughed, a loud, ringing sound that bounced off the stone walls. “I may be American but I’m not an idiot.”

      “You ride?”

      “Of course.” She decided to stride ahead, as if this news were nothing special. Inside she was glowing with triumph. James Drummond obviously had no idea what he had on his hands with her. “Where will I sleep?”

      “Upstairs.” He followed her. “I’ll show you myself.”

      Her bedroom looked fit for a queen. Perhaps one about to be executed in the Bloody Tower. A high, four-poster bed stood in the center of the room, curtains pulled back halfway to reveal rich brocade bedding. Tiny leaded windows filled the room with a gloomy half light. The large Oriental rug was worn and faded, possibly by hundreds of years of use. What appeared to be a priceless Ming vase stood high on the stone mantel. “Your family doesn’t go in for redecorating, do they?”

      He chuckled. “Not since about 1760. You could say we’re a bit set in our ways.”

      “At least you don’t waste money on passing fads.”

      “Not often. These newfangled glass windows were controversial when they first came out, but we like them.”

      She smiled. “And you can still open them to pour boiling oil on marauders.”

      “Absolutely. The designers thought of everything.”

      “Is there a bathroom, or have those not established themselves in fashion for long enough?”

      He gestured to a low wood door. She pulled the handle with some trepidation, and was surprised when it opened into a large, heavily marbled room with an appropriately antique-looking tub and sink and toilet in sparkling condition. At least she wouldn’t have to wash herself from a jug.

      “There’s no shower, I’m afraid. We’re still not convinced those are here to stay, but water does come out of the taps, so you won’t have to call for Angus to bring it.”

      “That is a relief. I’m not sure I want Angus seeing me in a towel.” She wanted to laugh, but somehow managed not to. “I am beginning to worry about finding this cup.”

      “Why?” He frowned, which annoyingly made him look even more handsome.

      “The place makes big look small.”

      “It’s sprawling, but quite simple to navigate, and there’s little clutter to deal with. The Drummonds always seem to have gone in for a sparse, minimalist style.”

      “How forward thinking.”

      “Are you tired?”

      “No. I was thinking about that bacon and what lucky person might get to eat it.”

      He laughed. “Let’s go.”

      Breakfast was served in a grand hall. They sat at a long wooden table, its surface polished to a high sheen. The blue-and-white porcelain plates had probably been imported from China in the 1700s. After they ate their fill from a collection of covered dishes, James offered to give her a whirlwind tour of the castle.

      “You might be the first non-Drummond to see inside the east wing this century,” he murmured, as he pulled open a wood door studded with dark iron. He ducked through the low entranceway.

      “Are you sure you won’t have to kill me because I’ve seen too much?” Her skin prickled with excitement, partly from gaining entry to the Drummonds’ inner sanctum, but mostly from continued proximity to James.

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