Cara Summers - Bound By Passion - No Desire Denied / One More Kiss / Second-Chance Seduction

“My father believed she was sitting in the gazebo,” Nell said. “The wood structure rotted away years ago, but the stone foundation is still there.” She sent him a smile. “You should remember it. You spent a day there playing tea party with me.”

“What I remember is a pile of rocks.”

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” Nell took a step back. “And so is the clue to the location of the necklace if we could just see it.”

Still intrigued, he continued to study the painting. To hell with talking her into going to bed and getting a fresh start in the morning. His best strategy was to indulge her desire to be independent and encourage her to take the lead. And maybe it was time he surprised her. “If your theory is right and Eleanor is pointing the way to the jewels in this portrait, you’ll want to start at the stone arch. Let’s go out there right now.”

She turned to stare at him. “I was going to suggest that, but I was sure you’d argue.”

He grinned at her. “Waste of time. You were going to make the point that, as long as the autograph lady and company are depending on you to lead them to the necklace, you’ll be safe. And if someone is out there watching, they’ll see you’re doing exactly what they want.”

She shot him a frown as they moved out of the room. “I don’t like that you can practically read my mind.”

The feeling was mutual, but he wasn’t about to admit that to her. Instead, he said, “Your mind works in a very logical way.”

Her smile held a hint of mischief. “Not always. I think it’s time that I filled you in on the fantasy box that my sisters and I buried in the stones a long time ago.”

9

“I’VE ALWAYS LOVED the gardens,” Nell said. “Especially at this time of night. All I have to do is take a breath and I can almost taste the roses and the freesias.”

All Reid could smell was Nell, and his desire to taste her again was growing with each step they took. In spite of his belief that their trip to the stone arch put her in minimal danger, he still kept himself alert.

The full moon gleamed off the lake, and stars, undimmed by city lights, sparkled in the clear sky overhead. The illumination provided by Mother Nature made them fairly visible to anyone who might have stationed themselves in the hills that jutted up on three sides of the grounds. There could be someone up there right now, keeping an eye on the castle and specifically on Nell’s movements.

When a sudden turn in the path caused her to brush against his arm, the desire that simmered constantly now in his blood shot to full boil. His awareness, previously attuned to their surroundings, narrowed to her as swiftly and dramatically as a spotlight on a stage. God, he wanted to touch her, really touch her. To slip that drab little suit off her and let his hands slowly, very slowly, mold every inch of her. Temptation grew as he imagined just how quickly he could edge her off the path and into the cover provided by the flowering trees that filled this particular part of the gardens. He wanted to give in to it—to throw caution to the wind, pull her into the shadows and just take her. It would be wonderfully crazy, and the certainty that she wouldn’t resist him—that she’d deny him nothing—gave an unprecedented power to the images filling his mind. He might have made them a reality, if they hadn’t stepped into the clearing in front of the stone arch.

Reid had to blink against brightness of the floodlights trained on the stones. They’d been installed after someone had planted a bomb inside the arch, once the first earring had been discovered. That person had nearly killed Alba. The sudden memory dragged him back to the real danger that still threatened Nell and her family.

When she started forward, he took her arm. “Let’s keep to the edge of the light until we have to step into it.”

“This is the first time I’ve seen them lit up like that. I think Angus would have liked it.”

Reid recalled the first time he’d seen the stone arch. At ten he’d been impressed with the structure. It was a tunnel, really—ten feet long, ten high in the center and eight feet wide. He and his brothers had measured it off. It impressed him no less now that it was lit up like a monument. He was even more impressed with the man who’d built it. It had lasted two hundred years, and it would be here for years to come. So would the legend. “Not many men leave behind such a legacy.”

“It’s a real tribute to the power of love,” Nell said.

“That kind of love is rare,” Reid said. “A lot of people want it, but very few achieve it.” He should tell her again that it wasn’t in the cards for them. She had to want the rarified kind of love.

His mother certainly had. And now it seemed she’d found it with A.D., and Nell’s aunt and sisters had found chances at their own happy-ever-afters. A.D. was a good man. So was Daryl. Cam and Duncan were good men. They’d never promise what they didn’t think they could deliver on. But if the stats held true, two out of the four of those couples would be denied what they most desired. That’s what he needed to tell her.

Before he could, she said, “I couldn’t agree more. Even the few who are lucky enough to find true love can have it snatched away and be nearly destroyed by the loss. My father’s a prime example of that. When my mother died, my sisters and I lost him, too. He was so devastated that he hid away in his rooms painting. I was too young to understand at the time, but when I finally did, I decided that true love isn’t worth the risk. Not to mention the drama and the stress. And even with the legend, there are no guarantees.”

Hadn’t he always felt the same way? Why did it bother him that she’d simply voiced his own assessment? Or perhaps he was just annoyed by the impossibility of arguing with someone who shared his opinion.

Nell took a deep breath and told herself to shut up. She’d made her point, and she was starting to babble. The walk through the garden had taken its toll on her concentration. She’d lied about loving the scent of the roses and the freesias. She’d barely noticed them compared to Reid. He smelled of soap: simple, basic. Wonderful. When he’d accidentally brushed up against her arm, she’d lost her train of thought completely.

Not good.

She needed to keep her head as clear as one of her heroines if she was going to achieve all her goals tonight. Slipping her hand into her pocket, she fingered the two slips of pink paper that had been burning a hole there all evening. The action helped her refocus.

They reached the far end of the clearing where the distance to the opening of the stone arch was only about twenty-five yards away. She needed to get to the fantasy box. “My sisters and I used to sneak out here late at night when we thought Aunt Vi was asleep. The instant we stepped out of the gardens, we always used to race for the stones.” She flicked him a look. “Bet I can beat you.” She took off.

The element of surprise should have guaranteed her a victory. But Reid was fast, his reflexes honed to perfection. He clamped a hand on her arm within the first ten yards, and they ended the race in a tie. When they finally stood beneath the arch, she was breathing hard. He wasn’t.

“You’ve got to remember to let me do my bodyguarding thing.” His hand was still wrapped around her arm, but his grip was no longer as firm. So there was no reason at all for her to feel the pressure of each one of his fingers. Even less reason for her knees to turn to water.

Then she made the mistake of looking at him. He’d turned to scan the clearing, and the memory of him on their parent’s wedding day superimposed itself over what she was seeing now. He’d been standing in profile that day, too. His hair had been longer then and more tousled. She’d wanted so much to touch it. To touch him. The urge had been so acute that if the bridal couple hadn’t separated her from him, she was sure she would have.