Laurie Brown (16 page)

“Nothing you would find of interest.”

“You never know. Come on.What’s in the...”

“Have you never heard that curiosity killed the cat?”

“Yes. And a cat has nine lives.”

“May we speak of something else?”

“No.”

He sighed in resignation. “In addition to my stock of brandy, other potables, and cigars, which takes up most of the space,
there is gambling paraphernalia and items certain gentlemen guests find interesting.”

“Do you mean pornography?” If Regency men found the sight of a woman’s ankles titillating, what really cranked their tractors?
Knees? Bare legs? Or was she confusing them with Victorian men? “Can I see?”

“Absolutely not,” he said, clearly horrified by her suggestion. He turned her by the shoulders and pushed her toward the back
of the room, where a winding iron staircase led upward.

Disappointed, but distracted, she looked up.The stairwell was an odd crescent shape.“That’s a lot of steps.” She began her
ascent. The going was steep and she gripped the railing.

He followed. “This stairway goes to the top of the east tower, but we’ll stop at the second landing. Grandfather designed
the windows to mimic those on the original tower that became the inner wall. While the work was being done, scaffolding hid
the true goal of the construction and everyone was simply told the tower needed repair. Remarkably, when it was finished,
no one seemed to notice the difference.”

“People see what they expect to see.”

“I suppose so. The stones were from the same quarry as the original and were treated to look weathered.”

While he continued his tourist guide spiel, Josie’s mind went off on a tangent. Had she seen what she’d expected to see at
the séance? Had the specter really been seven feet tall, or had she assumed so based on the other visual clues in the room
such as the height of the chairback? He could have been shorter and standing on something. He could have been on mini stilts.
He could have been raised to that height by the use of wires and pulleys. She determined then and there not to let her preconceived
notions color her observations at the next séance.

“The stairway was forged to Grandfather’s specifications at the Sirhowy Ironworks as a special favor.”

How could he continue talking and climbing without so much as a pause? Tall ceilings were beautiful, but they made for a lot
of steps between floors. She was already out of breath. One more reminder she’d skipped her last workout session at the gym
to...what? Why couldn’t she remember? Oh yeah. She’d just bought the DVD of
Buffy the
Vampire Slayer
season three, the best one because it had Faith and Oz in it, and she had spent the evening with the vampire hunters and a
bag of extra-buttery microwave popcorn.

When they reached the landing, Dev again took out his key, but the door opened before he had a chance to use it.

“Good afternoon, milord. Miss Drummond,” the valet said as he bowed and stepped aside simultaneously.

“Good heavens, Carson.You quite startled me.”

“My job is to anticipate your needs.” The valet grinned. He was of a height with Josie and bowlegged. His short gray hair
stuck out in all directions and was a direct contradiction to his impeccable formal attire.

“I swear you must have the second sight,” Dev said, guiding Josie into the short hallway and then handing his hat and leather
riding gloves to the valet.

“I was having a cup of tea with the head groom when Galahad returned,” Carson said. He shut the door behind them. “I simply
assumed you would not be far behind.”

“Miss Drummond has had a slight mishap,” Dev said.

That was an understatement if she’d ever heard one.

The valet tipped his head to the side as if he hadn’t previously noticed her disheveled appearance.

“I would like you to go, unnoticed, to her suite of rooms, where her maid is waiting. Bring Dora back with an appropriate
change of clothing for her mistress. Also unnoticed, of course.”

“Certainly, milord. I have laid out light refreshments in the reception room.”

“Thank you, Carson.We will serve ourselves.”

The valet bowed again and scurried away down the hall.

“Shall we?” Dev said and offered his arm.

Josie placed her fingertips on his arm. Until that moment she hadn’t really considered how she would feel entering his private
domain. She decided to play it cool.

That lasted about five seconds.

The room was bigger than her entire apartment, including her prized parking space.Two sofas and half a dozen chairs, upholstered
in shades of deep blue with various subtle gold patterns, were arranged in casual groupings on a huge Persian carpet. A variety
of landscapes and portraits in heavy gold frames hung on rich royal blue walls, and golden curtains framed each of six tall
windows. Here and there were bits of green and yellow, a vase, a pillow, but most of the accessories were gold, lots of gold.

“Does the king live here?” she asked.

“It is a bit much, isn’t it? This room was meant to impress. In the past the lord received his important visitors in his private
rooms rather than downstairs. I inherited the room, but not Grandfather’s fondness for the grandiose.”

“Why haven’t you changed it?”

Dev shrugged. “I spend so little time in the country. My townhouse in London is furnished in a much simpler style.”

Overwhelmed by the grandeur, she wandered around the room, focusing on individual items. A golden cat statue looked as if
it had come from an Egyptian tomb, and probably had. A large mosaic bowl made of lapis stones held three golden apples. A
scale replica of a Roman chariot including horses was so intricate the tiny driver wore armor and carried weapons.

“That model has wheels cleverly hidden beneath the horses’ hooves. I used to race it up and down the table and drive my grandfather
to fits.”

“It’s like a trip around the world,” she said, gently spinning the antique glass globe.“What in here is yours? I mean, what
did you bring into the room when you moved in?”

“Are you referring to personal mementos?”

“Yes. You can really tell a lot about a person by their stuff.You know, their things, their possessions. Their stuff.”

“Well, I keep my...stuff in the...in another room.”

“Can I see?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Please? Why? Is it your bedroom?”

“Miss Drummond! Are you trying to shock me?”

“No, but you must remember I’m from a differ-ent... place.” And in her place and time a woman could tour a man’s bedroom without
everyone assuming sex would follow. Of course, if she wanted to have sex with him...

Josie realized she did. Want to have sex with him.The entire day of polite dancing around each other had been a form of restrained
foreplay, so subtle she hadn’t realized the efficient way it had worked on her until now.

Now they weren’t perched on an anxiety-producing beast or out in the stone-studded wilderness, neither of which were particularly
conducive to making love. Now they were only a short walk away from one of the castle’s sinfully comfortable feather beds.
And she wanted him. In his bedroom or right there on the plush carpet.

If he was shocked before, what would he say if she told him she wanted to see his real stuff? Was he ready to get down and
boogie?

Was she?

Josie wandered to the windows and looked down into a garden surrounded by a high ivy-covered wall.

Was she ready? Physically? No question about it. She had that fluttery feeling low in her stomach, and the slightest movement
of her light muslin dress against her skin caused a delicious tingle. Mentally? That was another matter.

Not to say she hadn’t ever been with a man before. She’d just never thought of herself as the one-night-stand kind of woman.
Her experience was limited to three relationships. After her last breakup she’d buried herself in her work and lined up a
number of investigations in England for a change of scene. She hadn’t been with a man for...ohmigod had it been a year since...what
was his name? Oh yeah, Richard, a.k.a. Dick the Deceitful. Him she could forget without regret.

An amber paperweight caught her interest. She held it up to the light and felt a strange kinship with the hapless insects
trapped in its tawny depths. Far away from their natural place, years away from the time in which they’d lived. Caught in
a moment by what was once sticky tree sap. Snared by a single bad decision. She put the stone down so quickly she nearly dropped
it.

“Please have a seat, Miss Drummond. You’ll feel better after a cup of tea.” Instantly he wanted to kick himself. He could
hardly believe the prudish words had come from his mouth. Here he had a beautiful woman alone in his rooms and he was serving
tea like his grandmother.

True, he’d refrained from bringing his amorous liaisons to his ancestral home. At least he had once he was past his impetuous
youth and since moving from his old rooms in what was still called the bachelor wing. This suite had been his sanctuary away
from his mother’s matchmaking activities, which always coincided with his visits home. And yet bringing Josie here had seemed
natural, imperative. Not only was she different from any other woman he’d ever known, but his response to her was most unusual.

As she traced bits of his family history with her fingers, his soul responded as if she was reaching across time and space
to touch him.

He shook off the ridiculous thought.

He’d been enamored with women before. And even if this felt somewhat different, he was sure the same cure would work. Once
conquered, and bedded, her encompassing allure would fizzle to simple controllable attraction. With that purpose in mind,
he strode to her side.

She watched him stalk her with wide eyes.

“If not tea...perhaps...” He ran his fingers down the smooth skin of her arm and lifted her hand. He turned her hand over,
peeled back the edge of her glove, and kissed the inside of her wrist. “Can I interest you in something stronger?” he said,
letting his breath warm her exposed skin before looking up.

She shook her head and then nodded. She swallowed and licked her dry lips. “Sure,” she croaked out.After clearing her throat
she said,“I’m sure you have brandy handy.”

He stepped away.As he opened a nearby cabinet and poured two generous servings, he heard her blow out a breath. He suppressed
a smile.

“A toast?” he asked as he handed her a snifter.He leaned closer and gave her his most charming smile. “To mutual enjoyment
of pleasant diversions.”

She took a hasty gulp of her drink. “Is that the Regency version of a pickup line?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Never mind.” She finished the potent brandy. “It works.” Of course the way her blood was pumping, a simplistic
You woman, me man
might have had the same effect. She looked around for a place to put her empty glass but could not in good conscience set
it on the priceless antique furniture.

Dev took the crystal snifter from her and pitched it over his shoulder and into the fireplace, where it shattered against
the marble. He drained his drink and followed suit with his glass.

“Why did you...”

“To ensure the truth of the toast.”

“Oh.”

Again he took her hand, only this time he slowly removed her glove and tucked it in his breast pocket.“So now you have an
obligation...”

She shot him a questioning look.

“...to enjoy this pleasant diversion.” He kissed each finger and the palm of her hand. “I know what I like, but what do you
find enjoyable?”

“This is a good start,” she said, holding out her other hand.

He chuckled and removed the second glove. He dropped it but didn’t bother to take the time to retrieve it from the floor.
Again he kissed each finger, lips warm and smooth. He licked a streak across her palm and blew on the dampness, sending electric
shivers up her arm.

“In chiromancy, or palm reading, this is your mound of Venus,” he said, grazing the skin at the base of her thumb with his
teeth.“Mmmm. Firm and prominent.”

“What is that supposed to mean? Not that I believe...”

“You have great capacity for...sensual pleasure.” Josie stifled a laugh.What a line.

“These prominent horizontal lines indicate a person of great charm, but the ones that crisscross your love mound mean your
feelings are complex.

Complications are inevitable.”

Okay, maybe
that
was true, but still...“You don’t really believe...”

“That your hands foretell your fate? Not really, but I do find palmistry coincidentally truthful and therefore interesting.”

And useful for picking up women, she added to herself.

She flipped the positions of their hands and turned his palm up. “What does this mean?” she asked, tracing a line.

“That’s considered the life line.”

His seemed rather short. Not wanting to discuss that, she looked for another line, any other line. She picked a crescent-shaped
one that curved across his mound of Venus.“And this one?”

He smiled. “It means I’m trying to seduce you and apparently not doing a very good job of it if you’re more interested in
my palm than...”

“I’m not,” she said, and dropped his hand.

For a moment he just looked at her, the intensity of his gaze unnerving.

“Is something wrong?” Suddenly she remembered she wasn’t exactly looking her best. She patted her unruly curls. A quick peek
at her dress confirmed her worst suspicions. She looked as if she’d been in a knock-down, drag-out fight and rolled around
in the road.

“I want to remember this moment. You make such a lovely picture, standing there with the afternoon sun glinting off your auburn
hair.The pink on your cheeks from going without your bonnet.The...”

“Enough already.” She had to give it to him.The guy was good, but quite frankly the mood had been destroyed once she remembered
what she must look like. Added to the fact she hadn’t had a decent bath in days.

“Do you doubt my sincerity?”

“Rather than question your eyesight?”