A Trap So Tender. Jennifer Lewis

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СКАЧАТЬ kind of shape is it?” Online research into the story had told her it was the base of the cup they were looking for, but no need for him to know she’d done some digging on her own.

      “Round, I’d guess. It’s the part that sits on the table, the base, so it could be a hexagon or similar.”

      “I hope it hasn’t been thrown away over the years.”

      “Or melted down to make bullets. That’s the kind of thing the Drummonds might do with miscellaneous metal.”

      “They sound a lovely bunch, your ancestors.”

      “‘Keep thy blade sharp’ is the family motto. It’s right on the crest under the raven’s claws.”

      That might explain James’s ruthless pursuit of his goals. He had no idea she even knew of his reputation. She decided to call his bluff. “You seem so different.”

      “Am I?” He didn’t look at her, but out a small leaded window, at the white sky. “Sometimes I wonder.”

      “Why do you think of yourself as ruthless?” Maybe she could make him peer into his own hard heart and appeal to his sense of right and wrong to get her father’s factory back. Then he’d be grateful to her for helping him see the light. They could be friends—or lovers?—and live happily ever after.

      Reality smacked her in the face as his laugh bounced off the thick stone walls. “I think I’m the last person you should ask about that.”

      She decided not to push further. Not yet. She was here as his guest, and she didn’t want him getting suspicious about her motives. The hallway seemed to go on forever, and all the doors along it were closed. “What’s behind all these doors?”

      “Small bedrooms. Probably once inhabited by vassals.”

      “What the heck is a vassal?”

      He chuckled. “Hangers-on. People who lived off the good grace—what little there was of it—of the auld Drummonds.”

      Like me. “Interesting. What would they get out of keeping such people around?”

      “People who are obligated come in useful when you need a favor. Or some dirty work done.”

      She glanced behind her, for no good reason. Had James brought her here for reasons of his own? She thought she was so cunning to get invited into the heart of his empire, but maybe he had his own nefarious plans for her.

      The fearsome clack of her own shoe heels was getting on her rather raw nerves.

      Suddenly James took a turn to the left and pulled back an iron bolt on a tall wood door. “Welcome to the oldest part of the castle.”

      The door opened onto a sort of balcony. She stepped through it and peered over a stone rampart into a square-shaped hall. Antique wood furniture sprawled uninvitingly on the flagstone floor of the hall about thirty feet below where they stood. Above them a ceiling of great wood beams had probably held up the roof for a thousand years.

      James marched along a gallery and down a flight of narrow wood stairs toward the main floor. She followed slowly, staring around the space. She could almost feel the presence of all the men and women who must have breathed the air in this space over the years. “This is incredible. How come you don’t use it?”

      “The newer parts of the castle are more comfortable. And they have heat.”

      A grand stone fireplace stood cold and empty. Visions of a roaring flame, and maybe something roasting on a spit, crowded her mind. “How strange to think that your ancestors have lived here since the day it was built.”

      “They haven’t.” He stared up at a carved crest above the fireplace. “Gaylord Drummond lost the whole estate in a game of dice in the eighteenth century. That’s how some of the Drummonds ended up in America. He gambled and drank away everything they owned except the one mysterious cup everyone’s so excited about, so his three sons took off for the untamed shores of the New World to make their fortunes. There they apparently split up the cup and each took a piece, vowing to reunite it one day.” His stony gaze still rested on the chiseled stone.

      “And one of them ended up back here.”

      “He made a killing in beaver pelts up in Canada.”

      “Poor beavers.”

      “They used to make hats out of their fur. Very waterproof, apparently. He made his fortune, then sailed back here and bought the place from the son of the farmer who had won it from his father.”

      “And presumably he brought his piece of the cup with him.”

      James shrugged. “Can’t say I care one way or the other.”

      “You’re terrible. It’s a part of your family history.”

      “I keep this pile going. That’s my contribution to the family history. Maybe I should start playing dice. Losing it would save me a fortune.”

      “You don’t mean that.”

      “Not really.” He finally looked at her, and again his gray gaze stole her breath. “Though sometimes I wish I did.”

      She thought she saw emotion somewhere behind his stony facade. How could you not feel a powerful sense of history—even destiny—while standing in such an ancient and dramatic space? If she could feel it, she knew ancestral pride must beat somewhere in James Drummond’s cold heart. She could hardly imagine being heir to such a kingdom even if, by today’s standards, it was rather remote and unpopulated.

      She drew in a long breath and stared about her. “I think it’s magical.”

      His attention focused on her again, its icy blast like a laser. Did he suddenly suspect her of trying to worm her way into his affections so she could be mistress of this place? Women must have been trying for decades. She regretted her cheesy enthusiasm, and managed a casual shrug. “But I can see how a condo near Orchard Road would be easier to maintain.”

      He laughed. “Unquestionably.” His eyes narrowed and she felt herself under scrutiny again. For a split second his gaze seemed to scan her body like an unemotional piece of precision equipment, but somehow it left her nipples tingling, her belly quivering and her knees shaky.

      She wheeled around. Maybe if she couldn’t see him he’d have less power over her. It was infuriating how a simple glance from him sent her pulse racing. He was her enemy, for crying out loud. Perhaps he brought all his potential conquests here to astonish them with his family grandeur and made them swoon into his arms.

      “So, where’s the cup?” She walked farther away from him, trying to sound nonchalant.

      “Your guess is as good as mine.”

      “Hardly. You know where the nooks and crannies are.” There didn’t even seem to be any that she could see. Though there were some battered wooden doors along one wall. “You know, the places where they locked up their enemies and left them for dead?”

      “Oubliettes are more of a French thing. We Scots prefer to slit their throats in broad daylight then have a party.”

      She СКАЧАТЬ