Best Of Nora Roberts Books 1-6. Nora Roberts

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СКАЧАТЬ kind of fool do you think I am?” Stuart demanded. He stood beside Adam with only the wall separating them.

      “Whatever kind you prefer. Makes no difference to me. Have a seat, my boy.”

      “Listen to me, we had a deal. How long did you think it would take before I found out you’d double-crossed me?”

      “Actually I didn’t think it would take you quite so long.” Smiling, Fairchild rubbed a thumb over his clay hawk. “Not as clever as I thought you were, Stuart. You should’ve discovered the switch weeks ago. Not that it wasn’t superb,” he added with a touch of pride. “But a smart man would’ve had the painting authenticated.”

      Because the conversation confused her, Kirby pressed even closer to the door. She tucked her hair behind her ear as if to hear more clearly. Untended, her robe fell open, revealing a thin excuse for a nightgown and a great deal of smooth golden skin. In his corner, Adam shifted and swore to himself.

      “We had a deal—” Stuart’s voice rose, but Fairchild cut him off with no more than a wave of his hand.

      “Don’t tell me you believe in that nonsense about honor among thieves? Time to grow up if you want to play in the big leagues.”

      “I want the Rembrandt, Fairchild.”

      Kirby stiffened. Because his attention was now fully focused on the battle in the tower, Adam didn’t notice. By God, he thought grimly, the old bastard did have it.

      “Sue me,” Fairchild invited. Kirby could hear the shrug in his voice.

      “Hand it over, or I’ll break your scrawny neck.”

      For a full ten seconds, Fairchild watched calmly as Stuart’s face turned a deep, dull red. “You won’t get it that way. And I should warn you that threats make me irritable. You see…” Slowly he picked up a rag and began to wipe some excess clay from his hands. “I didn’t care for your treatment of Kirby. No, I didn’t care for it at all.”

      Abruptly he was no longer the harmless eccentric. He was neither cherub nor gnome, but a man. A dangerous one. “I knew she’d never go as far as marrying you. She’s far too bright. But your threats, once she told you off, annoyed me. When I’m annoyed, I tend to be vindictive. A flaw,” he said amiably. “But that’s just the way I’m made.” The pale eyes were cold and calm on Stuart’s. “I’m still annoyed, Stuart. I’ll let you know when I’m ready to deal. In the meantime, stay away from Kirby.”

      “You’re not going to get away with this.”

      “I hold all the cards.” In an impatient gesture, he brushed Stuart aside. “I have the Rembrandt, and only I know where it is. If you become a nuisance, which you’re dangerously close to becoming, I may decide to keep it. Unlike you, I have no pressing need for money.” He smiled, but the chill remained in his eyes. “One should never live above one’s means, Stuart. That’s my advice.”

      Impotent, intimidated, Stuart loomed over the little man at the worktable. He was strong enough, and furious enough, to have snapped Fairchild’s neck with his hands. But he wouldn’t have the Rembrandt, or the money he so desperately needed. “Before we’re done, you’ll pay,” Stuart promised. “I won’t be made a fool of.”

      “Too late,” Fairchild told him easily. “Run along now. You can find your way out without disturbing Cards, can’t you?”

      As if he were already alone, Fairchild went back to his hawk.

      Swiftly, Kirby looked around for a hiding place. For one ridiculous moment, Adam thought she’d try to ease herself into the corner he occupied. The moment she started to cross the hall toward him, the handle of the door turned. She’d left her move too late. With her back pressed against the wall, Kirby closed her eyes and pretended to be invisible.

      Stuart wrenched open the door and stalked from the room, blind with rage. Without a backward glance he plunged down the steps. His face, Adam noted as he passed, was murderous. At the moment, he lacked a weapon. But if he found one, he wouldn’t hesitate.

      Kirby stood, still and silent, as the footsteps receded. She sucked in a deep breath, then let it out on a huff. What now? What now? she thought, and wanted to just bury her face in her hands and surrender. Instead, she straightened her shoulders and went in to confront her father.

      “Papa.” The word was quiet and accusing. Fairchild’s head jerked up, but his surprise was quickly masked by a genial smile.

      “Hello, love. My hawk’s beginning to breathe. Come have a look.”

      She took another deep breath. All of her life she’d loved him, stood by him. Adored him. None of that had ever stopped her from being angry with him. Slowly, keeping her eyes on him, she crossed the front panels of her robe and tied the sash. As she approached, Fairchild thought she looked like a gunslinger buckling on his six-gun. She wouldn’t, he thought with a surge of pride, intimidate like Hiller.

      “Apparently you haven’t kept me up to date,” she began. “A riddle, Papa. What do Philip Fairchild, Stuart Hiller and Rembrandt have in common?”

      “You’ve always been clever at riddles, my sweet.”

      “Now, Papa.”

      “Just business.” He gave her a quick, hearty smile as he wondered just how much he’d have to tell her.

      “Let’s be specific, shall we?” She moved so that only the table separated them. “And don’t give me that blank, foolish look. It won’t work.” Bending over, she stared directly into his eyes. “I heard quite a bit while I was outside. Tell me the rest.”

      “Eavesdropping.” He made a disapproving tsk-tsk. “Rude.”

      “I come by it honestly. Now tell me or I’ll annihilate your hawk.” Sweeping up her arm, she held her palm three inches above his clay.

      “Vicious brat.” With his bony fingers, he grabbed her wrist, each knowing who’d win if it came down to it. He gave a windy sigh. “All right.”

      With a nod, Kirby removed her hand then folded her arms under her breasts. The habitual gesture had him sighing again.

      “Stuart came to me with a little proposition some time ago. You know, of course, he hasn’t a cent to his name, no matter what he pretends.”

      “Yes, I know he wanted to marry me for my money.” No one but her father would’ve detected the slight tightening in her voice.

      “I didn’t bring that up to hurt you.” His hand reached for hers in the bond that had been formed when she’d taken her first breath.

      “I know, Papa.” She squeezed his hand, then stuck both of hers in the pockets of her robe. “My pride suffered. It has to happen now and again, I suppose. But I don’t care for humiliation,” she said with sudden fierceness. “I don’t care for it one bloody bit.” With a toss of her head, she looked down at him. “The rest.”

      “Well.” Fairchild puffed out his cheeks, then blew out the breath. “Among his other faults, Stuart’s greedy. He needed a large sum of money, and didn’t see why he had to work for it. He decided to help himself to the Rembrandt self-portrait from Harriet’s gallery.”

      “He СКАЧАТЬ