Edge of Danger (22 page)

 
The panther had metamorphosed into Gabriel while she watched.

 
As a scientist she wasn’t prepared to dismiss out of hand the possibility, no matter how preposterous, that he
was
a wizard. Anything was in the realm of possibility. In fact, even the smallest chance that he had spoken the truth was intriguing to her.

 
Intriguing, but she wasn’t a fool. She’d watch him like the proverbial hawk. As long as she was here.

 
After that she didn’t give a fig if he turned himself into a three-horned toad by real magic or sleight of hand.

 
She closed her eyes against the glare from the bedside lamp. Was magic involved in the way she responded to him physically? Was he putting some sort of spell on her so that he could stomp all over her brain to get the data for Rex?

 
The idea was preposterous.

 
Yet here she was. In a medieval castle slap-bang in the middle of Montana, with a man who had transported her here—how? Teleportation? She’d heard him and Sebastian talking about it, but she hadn’t believed what she was hearing.

 
Now? The possibility seemed quite likely, and the scientist in her felt a leap of excitement. If she could study what made Gabriel tick, it could further her work.

 
She drifted off to sleep formulating questions to ask her mysterious host.

 
Eden had dozens of questions buzzing around in her head by morning. She didn’t know what to make of last night, she thought, walking carefully down the sweeping staircase in search of food and escape, not necessarily in that order. She kept her eye out for Gabriel, the man, the big cat, the whatever the hell he was.

 
Dressed in another natty black suit, white shirt, and red-and-black tartan tie, MacBain stood at the foot of the stairs as if he’d been expecting her. “Good morning, Doctor. Breakfast is being served in the conservatory. If ye’ll come this way?”

 
Holding on to the ornate newel post, she stepped down beside him. “Thanks. I’ll take a table for one.”

 
His lips twitched. “He’s out riding.”

 
Her heels clicked on the stone as she followed him. “What? A broom?”

 
“That would be a witch.”

 
They crossed the vast entry hall. Both front doors were open wide, letting in a wide swath of brilliant sunshine and the smell of pine. Eden followed MacButler, but she kept an eye on the scenery. Pinkish beige gravel covered a circular driveway, beyond which were towering evergreens, a hazy blur of mountains, and freedom.

 
The road she’d seen and then not seen, then seen again—wasn’t there again this morning.
The other day upon the stair…

 
If escape was as easy as strolling through those doors, he wouldn’t have left them open, Eden knew. Fine. A
sunroom
must have windows.

 
A shiver traveled up her spine as they passed the doors to the library. What had he meant last night when he said he couldn’t touch her? She couldn’t imagine a man like Gabriel Edge wasting time reassuring a prisoner. And while he said he wouldn’t touch her, if the heat in his eyes was any indication he wasn’t going to keep that vow long. Not long at all. Curse or no curse.

 
Especially, Eden admitted to herself, when she felt exactly the same way. How could she have made herself so available? Something about him drew her like a moth to flame. Even knowing he could shape-shift didn’t dampen her desire. He overrode her common sense.

 
She’d only slept with two men in her life. Once, at sixteen, out of curiosity, and once for love.

 
And look how well those turned out, she thought wryly, following close on MacBain’s polished heels. The first had slept with her on a bet, the second had married her for career advancement.

 
Of course she wasn’t going to have sex with Gabriel Edge. For one thing she wouldn’t be here an hour from now if she could help it, and for another she was pretty sure sleeping with him would in some way change her irreparably. With Gabriel, it wouldn’t be just sex.

 
And Eden was just fine with the way her life was right now. She’d be even finer once she talked to the authorities.

 
She bit her lip. Okay. Right now her life
wasn’t
fine.

 
Her life was in crisis.

 
She’d built a robot that very possibly had been stolen by a lunatic terrorist group that could potentially use him for harm. She’d been kidnapped by a madman who either kept a black panther as a pet or was a bona fide wizard of the magic variety.

 
And she was so turned on physically by her kidnapper that she felt hot and cold every time he was in the same room.

 
Okay, she thought semihysterically. My life is a hundred and eighty degrees from fine.

 
Perhaps if they did have sex, it would be out of both their systems and they could move on. Because right now she could think of only two things to do with Gabriel: Either make love with him or kill him.

 
Of course she reminded herself, she wasn’t going to do either because she wouldn’t
be
here. But it was nice to fantasize.

 
MacBain showed her to a lovely room overlooking a small, tree-ringed lake where two black swans circled each other like combatants. Like all the other rooms in the castle, this was huge. A curved glass ceiling soared at least three stories above her head, and both the ceiling and the glass walls were supported by intricate, white wrought-iron framing that looked as delicate as lace.

 
The room was filled with trees and flowers, and smelled delectably of orange blossoms. A round table, large enough to seat four, was spread with a pale green linen tablecloth, and set for one. It had been placed in the spill of sunlight coming through the open French doors at the far end of the room.

 
The doors led out to a gravel path that meandered around the blue water of the small lake.

 
MacBain pulled out a white wrought-iron chair for her, and Eden sank down on the plump floral cushion, accepting the napkin he handed her. “Coffee or tea?”

 
She tossed the fine linen napkin onto her lap. “Tea, please.”

 
She suspected Gabriel was expecting her to make a run for it. So she’d just sit right here, enjoying the sun on her face, sipping her tea as MacBain served her breakfast. Then she’d find a window or door that hadn’t been deliberately left open to tempt her.

 
MacBain brought her a familiar tray with a covered teapot, cup, and saucer, setting each item on the table near at hand. “I took the liberty of making several breakfast selections for ye, Dr. Cahill.”

 
Good, because astonishingly, Eden realized she was hungry. She stared outside as he butled, or whatever, her breakfast.

 
Looking at the open French doors three feet from where she sat, she wondered darkly what Gabriel had done to prevent her from just walking through them. Something. Of that she was absolutely positive.

 
She thanked MacBain as he placed a plate precisely so in front of her. The fragrant, golden omelet oozed cheese, and seeing the small mountain of crisp bacon made her mouth water. He returned to the table with a rack of toast and small dishes of jams and jellies, which he took his time arranging to suit whatever pattern he had in his head.

 
“You feed prisoners very well,” Eden commented, inhaling the savory steam as she picked up her fork.

 
“Only the pretty female scientists. I’m afraid the lesser prisoners must subsist on gruel and brackish water in the dungeons.”

 
Eden smiled at his droll tone. “Have many prisoners, do you?”

 
“None but yerself at this time. But we live in hope.”

 
Eden laughed. “Can you keep me company while I eat?”

 
“Aye. I’d be most honored to be interrogated by ye, Miss Eden. I happen to have brought me own cup.”

 
They smiled at each other in perfect accord.

 
“Are there really dungeons in the castle?” she asked curiously as he pulled out a chair and lowered himself into it carefully. Arthritis, she thought. Grandma Rose had had it too.

 
“Och, aye,” he said with relish, drawing the tray closer. “In the mid sixteen hundreds, Cromwell himself ordered Lord Edridge to vacate the castle. Which of course, he didna do.”

 
“Of course not,” Eden said dryly. If Gabriel’s ancestors were anything like he was they’d have fought the enemy at the gate tooth and nail. “What happened?”

 
MacBain filled a cup with fragrant black tea, and handed it to her. “Milk? Sugar? I did bring a spot of lemon if ye’d prefer?”

 
“Black’s fine.” Eden set the saucer on the table, and took a sip from the translucent cup. The tea was steaming hot, strong enough to grow hair on her chest, and deliciously fragrant. She took another small sip before deciding it needed to cool a bit and set it down. “Go on.”

 
“Lord Edridge proved that the castle walls were impregnable. If one goes around back to the north side of the castle, one can still see the artillery damage that mars the walls.”

 
MacBain poured himself a cup of tea, added a splash of milk, and six teaspoons of sugar before stirring his cup vigorously.

 
“I’m sure Gabriel would take ye on a tour. I doubt ye’d enjoy the dungeons. Claustrophobic and damp. Most unpleasant. The small cells honeycomb the basement, and they still house the iron manacles used on prisoners. Quite grim, really. Remainders of the cruelties from medieval life.”

 
“I’ll take the tour without the side trip to the basement, thank you very much,” Eden said with a small shudder.
Modern day
small dark places bothered her; the idea of a medieval basement was enough to give her hives. “How long have you worked for Gabriel?”

 
“Almost twenty-one years, now. And forty for his father before him. Both Cait and Magnus died when the boys were in their teens,” MacBain told her, pinching off a corner of toast and putting it in his mouth. He chewed for several seconds. “Broken hearts, I always said. Couldna be together, couldna bear to live apart. Cait passed here at Edridge Castle, and is buried out there in her beloved rose garden, beneath her favorite Peace rose.”

 
“Died a week apart, Cait and Magnus did. Magnus now, he’s buried ’neath the ancient foundation of Castle Edridge in his beloved Scotland. Even in death they are torn apart.”

 
“How old was Gabriel?”

 
“Not yet seventeen. A hard age for a lad to lose both his parents.”

 
“And his brothers?”

 
“Caleb was sixteen. He turned wild after. Duncan, he’s the serious one, was but a lad of fifteen. Quieter and more sober, was our Duncan.”

 
“And what was Gabriel at almost seventeen?”

 
“Responsibility weighed heavy on the lad. He learned the lessons of the past too well, did Gabriel Edge. What his parents tried to deny, he knew to be the truth.”

 
“Do Duncan and Caleb live here too?”