There was definitely more to this man than met the eye, or was written about in the columns of Investor’s Business Daily. The way she felt right now, she could easily imagine peeling off his shirt and pants and making love to him right there on the cold stone floor of his ancestral castle.
But he pulled back. His hands slid from her waist and his lips slipped away from hers. An icy chill seemed to replace his touch. She opened her eyes—how long had they been closed?—and found herself blinking in the cold light of the empty hall.
James’s eyes were narrowed, his face hard. “I hadn’t intended for that to happen.” He shoved a hand through his tousled hair. “Yet.”
Three
Fiona smoothed the front of her black shirtdress. She hadn’t changed since getting off the plane so it was probably rumpled even before James started roaming his hands over it. She couldn’t believe she’d let him smooch her before she’d been here one entire day.
The word yet said it all. She now knew he’d fully intended to enjoy her in his bed, but after a suitable preamble of flirtation. Apparently, he’d grown impatient, and she’d fallen right into his arms like the fawning girls who no doubt cooed over him on every continent.
“I didn’t intend for that to happen at all.” She tried to look calm. “In fact, I’m still not sure what did happen.”
“I think they call it kissing.” His narrowed gaze showed only the coldest glint of humor. “And it’s entirely too early in the day for it, apart from any other objections.”
Her body still pulsed with arousal. Her fingertips itched to touch his hard body, and her lips ached for the crush of his mouth. Who was he to suddenly announce it was a big mistake? “You started it.”
Her childish retort hung in the air for a moment and she wished she could take it back. It was true, though.
His eyes widened very slightly. “I didn’t notice you fighting me off.”
“Maybe I was just trying to be a polite guest.” This was getting sillier every moment.
One side of his arrogant mouth tilted in a wry smile. “Your manners are impeccable.”
Irritation surged inside her, mingling with the almost painful desire that had sensitized her whole body. She raised herself to her full, not very impressive height. “I don’t know about yours.”
He raised a brow. “I have to agree with you.” Then he frowned. “I’m not sure whether an apology is in order or whether that would be downright rude under the circumstances.”
She drew in a shaky breath. “Maybe we should just act like it didn’t happen.”
“I don’t think so.” His gaze drifted lower. Not to anywhere obvious, like her breasts, but to her collarbone, which felt singed by his hot, dark gaze, then to her hands, which were now knotted in front of her.
“I’m not good at pretending.”
He laughed. “Me, either. Okay, it happened and damn it, I enjoyed it.”
She fought a smile that wanted to rip across her mouth. “No comment.” Her enjoyment was so obvious there was no need to encourage him to gloat with triumph. “So, the cup. Where were we?”
James glanced around the room, as if wondering where exactly they were. “I confess I’m not entirely sure. Certainly not where I thought we would be.”
She laughed. Couldn’t help it. It was probably all the tension—sexual and otherwise—that had built in the air around them. “Let’s keep moving forward, shall we? And try to stay focused this time?”
“I like a woman with a good head on her shoulders.”
“I can tell.” She lifted her chin. “What’s through that door?” She marched forward, determined to have some say in where this was going. Drifting along, allowing James to lead the way, was obviously dangerous.
“Try the handle.”
She reached out, wondering what could be the worst-possible scenario for what they’d encounter on the other side. “What if it’s a closet full of your family skeletons?”
“If one of them is clutching a cup, we’re well on our way.”
“If the Drummonds in New York found the stem, and the ones in Florida found the part you drink from, there isn’t much cup for skeletal fingers to wrap around.”
“Are you afraid to open that door?”
“Not at all.” Her hand still clutched the small round handle, and she forced herself to turn it. With her luck it would be locked anyway. It swung open suddenly, almost pulling her into the room with it. She let go of the handle as if it burned. The room was piled high with furniture. Literally, it was piled almost to the rather low ceiling. Chairs and tables and chests, all obviously old and made of unpainted dark wood. “I think we found the junk room.”
“Interesting.” James stepped past her and into the room. “I’ve never been in here. I don’t think I ever even noticed the door before.” He looked around at the stacks of furniture that blocked their entrance. “You certainly are bringing something to this quest.”
“Let’s hope it’s good luck that I’m bringing.”
“I’m not at all sure, but I’ll take my chances.” His challenging gray gaze met hers.
Her heart kicked violently in response. Partly because a simple glance from him had that effect on her, and partly because she hadn’t come here to bring him good luck.
“I bet some of these pieces are quite valuable.”
“Do you know anything about antique furniture?” He rubbed at the finish of a nearby upside-down chair.
“Nothing at all.”
“Me neither. I guess we’ll just leave it here for the next generation to rediscover. Though I suppose we should check all the drawers for cup bottoms.” He tugged on the brass handle of an elaborately carved chest. The drawer didn’t budge.
“Let me try.” She needed something to do. Her nerves were all on edge. She grabbed the handle and tugged on it. It came off in her hand, revealing sharp brass nails. “Oh.”
“Looks like we’ll have to keep you away from the priceless artifacts.” His eyes sparkled with amusement.
“I’m sure it will be easy to fix.” She looked at the handle in her hand. The nails made it look like a weapon. “Though maybe we should leave that to a professional.” What little she did know about furniture told her that this little carved chest was several hundred years old.
James wrapped his long, strong fingers around the outside of the drawer and pulled it out as if it were a matchbox. Empty.
“That was an anticlimax.” She heaved a sigh of relief, then wondered why. Was she worried they’d find this dumb cup base too soon and she’d have no excuse to stay here?
He pulled out the next drawer. Also empty, and very stained with something that looked like black ink. “Is that the blood of your ancestors’ enemies, perhaps?”
“Nope. Too dark. There’s a bloodstained floorboard in one of the upstairs bedrooms that resists all attempts to clean it. It’s where one of my forebears was murdered by his manservant.”
“Yikes. I guess that’s the family curse in action.”
“No doubt. It’s quite a different color than this, though. Much richer. Almost like a wood stain.”
“I’ll have to remember that if I need to refinish something cheaply.” She