Where Sleeping Dragons Lie (Skeleton Key) (2 page)

Carol snorted. “That man
would drive through a tornado blocking the road if he knew a prize such as that
intriguing book awaited him on the other side.”

“Stupid question,
right,” Briana said with a grin. “Speaking of, Mr. Hildebrand seemed just as
passionate. I can’t believe he’s never come sniffing around here or some of the
local auctions before today. Did he just move into the area or was he referred
by one of the regulars? That’s not the kind of man that I would forget seeing,
especially in our circles.”

“Yes, he certainly was
handsome,” Carol replied with a chuckle. “Terrance referred him, said he was
from New York City. I suppose he ran into Mr. Hildebrand during his last trip
to the east coast, but I don’t know for sure. You know Terrance. He can talk
about a book without interruption for days, but when it comes to everything
else, he’s always short on details.”

“Well, if he came all
this way just to buy one of your books, then I think we’ll be seeing him pretty
soon, hopefully after Joseph examines the mystery book.” Briana shook her head
as she stepped into Carol’s office to retrieve the book in question. “Offering
us five hundred grand after a single glimpse—that’s just crazy.”

“Or calculating. I could
swear that he actually recognized it.”

Briana frowned. “With no
writing anywhere on the exterior? It looks like a thousand other old,
hand-bound leather books. I never would’ve given it a second glance if I didn’t
know Granny’s cases like the back of my hand and realized it didn’t belong.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“I had planned on
leaving it here overnight, but maybe I should take it with me back home after
all. Although he was drool worthy, Mr. Hildebrand gave off some really strange
vibes. I mean, my heart nearly tore out of my chest when he came at me so
suddenly.”

Looking troubled, Carol
slowly nodded. “I didn’t want to say—I thought it was just me, but—yes, I think
that would be best.”

“Carol! You won’t
believe
what I just found in the—” Briana called out excitedly as she pushed open the bookshop
door to the sound of bells before stopping mid-phrase when she realized that
her friend had visitors.

At the sound of her
voice, the two men standing at the reception counter in the center of the shop,
one gray-haired and dressed in a standard gray business suit and the taller,
black-haired one in a more casual charcoal-colored sports coat and black
slacks, turned to look over at her. Briana instantly froze a step inside the
shop, her hand still clenched around the brass doorknob and the other
contracting tightly around the strap of her oversized shoulder bag. She stared
mutely at the taller man, at Taron Hildebrand, who regarded her with an opaque
expression in his eyes.

“I’m—sorry,” Briana
forced out past the huge knot of surprise that had instantly formed in her
throat. “I didn’t realize you were with clients.”

Her pulse began to race
when Mr. Hildebrand turned around completely and started to walk towards her, a
smile forming on his full lips. “Just the person I was hoping to meet with this
morning.” He reached out a hand. “Once again, my name is Taron Hildebrand.”

Willing herself not to
show just how flustered she was feeling, Briana released the stranglehold she
had on her shoulder bag strap and accepted his hand for a shake with a
professional smile. “Briana Wright. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Hildebrand.”

“Just ‘Taron’ is fine.”

Flashing her another
smile, he stepped back a few paces, allowing her to step more fully into the
shop and close the door. “Briana, as in the character from
The Faerie Queene
?”

“Only the spelling,
thank goodness,” she replied with a shrug. “Briana was such a shallow, terrible
character. My mother wasn’t into reading the classics.”

Although she could guess
exactly why he wanted to meet with her, Briana decided not to humor him, client
or no client. Especially not when she was dying to tell Carol—and later
Joseph—about what she had discovered in the book just this morning.

“You said you wanted to
meet with me,” she continued before he could even open his mouth to speak. “I’m
sorry for the misunderstanding, but I’m not an employee here. Like you, I’m
just a patron and friend of the shop owner.”

Those uncanny, sunset
eyes bored into her without blinking. “Yes, but the book I saw you examining
yesterday
is
owned by you, correct?” Taron said.

“It’s still not for
sale, no matter how much you offer me,” Briana countered quickly, putting a bit
of apology in her tone.

“It’s slightly more
complicated than that, I’m afraid,” he said, the intensity of his stare not
waning a bit, making her want to squirm in discomfort.

“Mr. Hildebrand believes
the book is an old family heirloom his family has been searching for since it
went missing in the early nineteenth century,” Carol sudden spoke up, making
Briana jump.

She had completely
forgotten her friend and the older, unknown man that had likely accompanied
Hildebrand were also in the shop while she and this intimidating man talked.
“An heirloom?” she echoed incredulously.

Taron nodded eagerly. “Although
I would have to examine it more meticulously to be sure, the blackened color of
the leather on the book’s upper, right-hand corner suggesting that it had once
been singed, as well as the absence of any writing or etchings on the outside
cover, even along the spine, fits the description my ancestors left of it in
diaries and letters. Also, to a lesser extent, an image of a book just as I’ve
described makes an appearance in a few family paintings that have been passed
down through the generations. I, of course, have brought photos of both the
letters and the paintings.” He gestured towards the silent stranger at the
counter. “I’ve also brought along an appraiser I have worked with for many
years while living in New York.”

Briana felt her heart
once again speed up, but this time in rising excitement instead of trepidation.
Could she possibly be on the brink of solving the book’s mystery so early in
the game? Did she dare hope?

The appraiser approached
them and offered her his hand. “Harold Brown. I am the owner of the Brown
Auction House in New York City and an expert in rare books and ancient
manuscripts.”

She gave his hand a firm
shake. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

“Perhaps everyone would
like to continue this conversation in the privacy of my office?” Carol offered,
looking questionably at Briana rather than the two men.

Not wanting to give away
her mounting excitement, Briana focused her attention on Taron and said with a
touch of hesitation, “Before I agree to allow you to examine my book Mr.—excuse
me—
Taron
, may I ask you a couple of questions about your heirloom book?”

His gaze sharpened. “Ask
me anything.”

“Describe its interior—was
a printing press used or was it handwritten? What language did the author use,
and were there any illustrations included?”

He grinned slowly, and
suddenly a shudder of unease inundated her body as this new expression made her
inexplicably feel as though he was presenting her with a show of weapons rather
than something as benign as a smile. What the hell was wrong with her? Or
him
?

Yes, his eyes were a
little bit creepy, and he was gorgeous enough to fluster her. Yet, other than startling
her yesterday with his sheer excitement over Granny Ruth’s book, he had really
done nothing that explained why being in his presence, alone, put her so much
on edge.

Maybe she should’ve
declined his request for a meeting from the get-go and waited for Joseph to
arrive, after all…

“Oh, it was very much
handwritten—given that it was written using an alphabet I really doubt more
than a handful of people have seen over the ages, much less know how to read,”
Taron answered. “As for illustrations, there was only one, located about a
third of the book in and drawn by someone with what were probably only rudimentary
artistic skills. A key.”

Briana could feel the
heat of her excitement rise in her cheeks as Taron held out his hand to his
appraiser. His description was a bit too on the nose for her to discount. She
watched with curiosity and an eagerness she could no longer hide as Mr. Brown
opened up the leather briefcase he was carrying and pulled out a set of 4x6 photos
which he handed to Taron.

He quickly shuffled
through them before selecting one and then holding it out to her. “This key.”

The picture was of what
looked like a charcoal sketch of a double-bitted key with a skeleton head on a
yellowing piece of stained canvas. A tiny gasp escaped her lips. It looked
remarkably similar to the very drawing she had discovered in the book only this
morning, down to the shape of the two teeth and the style of the skull. That
picture was the reason she had rushed over to the book shop at the crack of
dawn today.

Before she could
comment, Taron handed her two more photos. The first shot was a small oil
painting of a close-up of four dark-haired women with similar features and of
varying ages. They stood in a parlor room, the youngest handing a
very
familiar-looking
leather-bound book with a darkened corner on the front cover to the oldest of
the other three.

The second photo was a
portrait of a different woman in a different style of dress that was sitting
before a fireplace in a room lit only by the oil lamp on a small table next to
her chair. On the table next to the lamp was the same leather-bound book, blank
spine facing the viewer.

“Okay, you definitely
piqued my interest,” Briana admitted with a small smile.

“Briana, go ahead and
escort these gentlemen to my office. I’ll prepare some tea for our guests.”

The thought of being
alone with Taron Hildebrand without Carol acting as a buffer didn’t really sit
well with her, but she nodded anyway. What was a little discomfort when there
were some answers to be had?

“If it’s all right with
you, Carol,” Briana said, “we can skip the office discussion and go straight
back to the examining room.” She patted the side of her shoulder bag, drawing
the two men’s eyes to it. “I already have the book in question here.”

Taron looked as though
he had just won the lottery. The fact that his ecstatic expression made him
even more attractive—and her cheeks heat up—made Briana seriously wonder if she
had ever had control of the conversation at all.

At Carol’s nod, she
beckoned the two men after her, all the while feeling what were probably
Taron’s eyes boring into the back of her head, making the hair at the back of
her neck stand on end. Once again, Briana clutched her shoulder bag strap more
tightly. She would have to be more careful in the next hour than she had ever
had to be in her life.

She would be damned
before she would allow a sexy smile and an intimidating demeanor bully her into
giving up such a treasure without a legit reason.

Taron’s eyes tracked
Briana’s every movement as keenly as a cat stalking a bird within grasp on the
front lawn as she carefully pulled the book from its protective slipcase and
placed it gently onto the examining table. It disturbed her to realize just how
much his stare made her feel like that metaphorical bird.

Instead of studying the
book last night, she should have spent the time looking up Taron Hildebrand on
the internet. She was kicking herself that she hadn’t thought until now to have
Carol, at the very least, investigate whether or not Taron’s appraiser really
did own an auction company in New York before she had brought them to the back
room. They could be a pair of con artists, for all she knew. It wouldn’t be the
first time someone used their good looks as a weapon…

Yeah, and maybe you
just read too many thrillers
, she thought sardonically.

However, there was no
denying the man’s rising excitement from the moment the book had first been
revealed. If his story about the book being a family heirloom was true, she
wondered just how long and hard he had searched, how much money he had spent, to
find it.

“You hinted earlier that
this book was written in an obscure alphabet,” Briana said abruptly, breaking
the loaded silence that had fallen between them. “Before I open this, can you
tell me about the writing?”

He laughed. “
Very
obscure, yes, given that it’s an alphabet created by my ancestors.”

“Then—it was written in
code?” she pressed.

“You could say that.”

When it became apparent
that no further explanation would be forthcoming, Briana decided to back off to
something more innocuous in the hopes that he would relax and open up a bit more.
She had seen this type of reluctance in the past with a few of Carol’s older
clients, the determination to reveal nothing but what was absolutely necessary.
Some families with ties back to various European nobility could be incredibly
skittish about revealing too much history about the books—whether about the
books themselves or a client’s particular ties to it—because they feared Carol
would jack up the initial price.

“Sorry for the twenty
questions,” Briana apologized with faux sheepishness. “I’m a history major, so
you must understand that finding a book as apparently old and intriguing as
this one isn’t one I’m eager to let go without a very good reason. Even then, at
the very least, I would like to have my own curiosity sated.”

Taron nodded, his eyes
softening a bit. “I have a Ph.D. in history, myself, so I can well understand
your reluctance to part with it, as well as your caution.”

Briana leaned forward
with both interest and suspicion. “Oh?”

“The Hildebrand family
has been searching for generations for this book. Seeing my father and
grandfather’s frustration over the years as once promising leads turned cold
over and over made me determined to be the one to find it. It also fanned the
flames of my interest in the history of the times surrounding it.”

He reached out a hand
that quivered in either uncontainable excitement or fear of being wrong and
stopped short of touching the front cover before Briana could yell at him about
not touching it without gloves or at least a thorough washing.

“To finally,
finally
have it possibly within my grasp—it’s indescribable.”

“Did your studies
include learning how to
read
it?” Briana found herself asking, unable to
contain
her
excitement any longer despite her earlier determination to
be as suspicious and cautious of the probable Englishman as possible.

His lips quirked up as
he drew his hand back to his side. “Of course.”

She picked up a new pair
of white cotton gloves from the table and offered them to him. “Then I would
very much like to hear you read the first page—if this is indeed your family’s
missing book, of course.”

Taron eyed the gloves
with a moue of distaste before he sighed and accepted them. “You know those
aren’t really necessary as long as you thoroughly wash and dry your hands with
a fresh towel before handling the books, don’t you?”

“I’ve heard,” Briana
retorted. “However, both Carol and I feel better using them if you don’t mind.”

“As you wish.”

Carol came in with a
tray containing three steaming tea cups just as Taron reached for the book, but
she might as well have been a ghost for all either Taron or Mr. Brown paid any
attention to her arrival. Without a word, the older woman headed for the small alcove
in a back corner of the room that contained a circle of overstuffed chairs and
a compact, wooden coffee table in the center and set the tray down. Briana had
many fond memories sitting with Granny Ruth and Carol or regular patrons of the
shop and friends sipping a cappuccino and discussing a new discovery or simply
the latest bestseller.

Her eyes turned back to
Taron. She regarded him speculatively as he carefully opened the book to what
she thought was the title page while his appraiser moved in for a closer look.
Maybe Taron wouldn’t be averse to doing the same after examining the book.

Then Briana felt an
inexplicable burst of adrenaline shoot through her system as Taron
just—stilled. If the universe ever paused to take a breath, she would swear
that cosmic moment between action and inaction would have exactly matched what
she had just witnessed. It was almost as though she could feel the weight of
that stillness down to her very soul, and if it weren’t for the fact that she
couldn’t seem to move, couldn’t seem to
breathe
, Briana would have
stumbled away from him.

“Mr. Hildebrand? Is
everything all right?”

Taron blinked at the
sound of Carol’s concerned voice, and that preternatural stillness instantly
shattered. Suddenly freed from her strange paralysis, Briana had to lean hard
against the edge of the table to keep legs that were now as wobbly as wet
noodles from crumbling to the ground.

“…Forgive me,” Taron
murmured. He closed his eyes briefly before he turned to address Carol.
“Although seeing the cover once again convinced me that I had indeed found the
right book, seeing this…” He tapped the first line of strange symbols on the
page lightly with his index finger. “…proved it beyond a shadow of a doubt, and
I was overcome with emotions I was ill-prepared for.”

You’re not the only
one
, Briana thought shakily as she tried to pull herself together before
Carol or either of their two guests noticed something was amiss with her.

What the hell had just
happened
?
Sure she had always been more sensitive to others’ emotions than the average
person, but she had never been affected like
this
. She had almost
freaking collapsed, for God’s sake!

Carol smiled kindly at
him. “This sort of reaction happens more than you would think. Where some see
books as dusty old collections of pages, others see a priceless treasure.”

Taron smiled wryly. “Or
a precious heirloom in my case.” His gaze lowered to the title page once again.
“’Herein lies the account of Beatrice Hildebrand regarding the happenings on
the Ides of March.’” His eyes lifted, and Briana suddenly found her eyes
captured in an intense, sunset-colored stare. “That’s what this first page
says—in somewhat modern terms, at least. This book is a narrative diary, penned
by Beatrice’s own hand about an incident that, to this day, has sparked many a
passionate argument among my family about whether or not it actually occurred.”