“The Guardian’s blade,” Robbie Potter murmured as he traced the dirk’s image on the book’s cover. “Me memory isnae what it once was, but it plagued me all afternoon. I knew I’d seen the symbol before. I finally recalled the work I did for you. T’was the first time I ever heard of the Sisters’ Prize.”
He flipped through the pages as he spoke. Hamish watched him carefully, slipping in questions in such a way that Potter never realized how much he’d revealed with his answers.
So, he hadn’t needed the surveillance after all. Alasdair MacRae had come to him. What peculiar quirk of Fate was that?
“There! I knew it!” Potter pointed to a marking on a page. “That’s the symbol on Mrs. Tate’s ruby?”
“Aye. Aye. It is. And it says…” Potter’s voice trailed off as he read. “Glory be.” The bookseller looked up from the page, wonderment in his eyes. “The symbol marks the prize.”
“Like a pirate’s X? There’s a map?”
“Nae…nae. It’s the old language. Hmm…” The bookseller jumped up, rushed around the bookshelves in his store gathering an armful of books then setting them on his worktable. He muttered as he flipped through the books, jotting down notes. “’Tis a journey of three, though the ruby leads the way. The Prize goes to the fleet. It’s the phrase I’m missing, Mr. Campbell. Words on the ruby beneath the symbol. I should have copied them, but I didn’t. I’m not certain I’m remembering exactly. I’ll need to see the ruby again.”
“Mrs. Tate kept the necklace?”
“Aye. But they’re returning tomorrow to see what else I’ve discovered. I’m sure she’ll have it with her and I can finish the translation then.”
This time, Hamish Campbell was the one who said, “Hmm…”
Fate had led him to Roslin MacRae on the moor that night. Fate took him to a card game almost thirty years later. Now, fate had dropped this opportunity into his lap.
He smiled at the bookseller. “Actually, Potter, I have a better idea. Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
CHAPTER NINE
D
AIR ARRANGED FOR DINNER
to be served on the rooftop garden. It was a pleasant setting, a little Eden in the midst of the city with potted orange trees set around the perimeter to provide privacy and hanging baskets of wildly blooming flowers that perfumed the temperate evening air. Most important, it didn’t give him the cringes like most other parts of his house.
As he made his way upstairs, Dair looked forward to the meal. He’d spent much of the afternoon dealing with Highland Riever business with his fence and his banker, and a quick visit to a land agent had yielded an interesting piece of information he was anxious to share with Emma.
He stepped out onto the rooftop to discover she’d already arrived. His first glance at her took his breath away. The lady had been busy this afternoon, too. She’d dressed for dinner.
She wore a low-cut gown of shimmering silk in a rich, deep ruby shot with threads of gold, a perfect complement to the necklace she wore. Dair hardly spared the gem a glance, so enthralled was he with the swell of breasts pillowing the ruby.
When he finally dragged his gaze upward, he saw that she’d piled her hair in tousled golden curls atop her head. Simple gold hoops hung from her ears. Her blue eyes gleamed with an intriguing light and a secretive smile hovered on her full red lips. Dair wanted her like he needed his next breath. “Now I understand why Harvey laid out my good suit for me to wear,” he said, forcing a casual tone. “You’re a vision, Emma.”
“Thank you. You’re looking rather dapper yourself.”
“New dress?”
“No. It’s my mother’s design. A Christmas gift. My sisters and I each received special gowns to match our necklaces.”
His gaze made a slow, careful study from head to toe. “Your mother is a talented woman.”
“That she is.” Her smile widened, warmed. “So, how was your afternoon, Mr. MacRae?”
Not as interesting as hers, by the looks of it. This was a different Emma Tate from the one he’d left swaying on the front stoop. That Emma had been pale and nervous and shaken. This Emma was all color and confidence.
Immediately, he went wary. Drawing on past experience with women, he concluded, “You’ve made a decision.”
“Clairvoyant, MacRae?”
Unnerved, Tate. “Observant.”
She slipped a rose from the vase at the center of the table set for two and twirled its long stem. “I like that in a man.”
Dair had the sudden feeling that this would be a very long night. He signaled for their meal to be served and they strolled around the rooftop garden engaging in small talk until the servants departed, leaving them alone.
Emma picked up her wineglass, then said, “I thought about what you said, Dair, about fate. I’ve decided not to fight it. The night Roslin gave my sisters and I our necklaces, she said we must each accomplish a task of great personal import. Maybe finding the treasure is my task. Wouldn’t that be exciting?”
Not as exciting as you.
He forced himself to pay attention to her words rather than her lips. “So you intend to stay the course? You are not ready to take your ruby and run?”
She played with the neck chain teasingly. “Why tempt fate?”
“Indeed.” Dair lifted his own wineglass and sipped it sparingly. Instinct cautioned him to keep his wits about him.
The woman was in a mood, and he didn’t know that it was any different from the one this morning that had left him bare-ass naked on his own front balcony. “I’ve given some thought to our next move. I spoke with a man today who imparted a piece of information I find curious. It seems that in the Strathardle Valley, many families name their firstborn daughter Roslin.”
“Why?”
“My acquaintance didn’t know, but I believe that’s a good line of questioning to pursue. I sent a note to Potter requesting any information he might have in that respect. Depending on what he has for us when we call upon him again tomorrow, I suspect we might find it helpful to travel to Strathardle ourselves.”
“The Highlands?” Pleasure lit her expression. “I love the Highlands. I’ve cousins there, you know.”
While they ate, she shared stories about her family, beginning with the Scots branch, then moving west to the McBrides of Fort Worth. She told silly, entertaining tales that thoroughly distracted and enchanted him. Until dessert was served, that is.
The way the woman ate lemon custard was downright sinful.
She licked and sucked and purred and savored. Watching Emma Tate savor her dessert was as erotic as observing fire dances on South Pacific islands. When her tongue dragged slowly, lusciously over her spoon, then she let out that little hum of pleasure, closed her eyes and shuddered with delight, it was like watching someone have sex at the supper table.
Dair wanted to play, too. But not with lemon custard. Hell, he wanted to be the lemon custard.
He was rock-hard beneath the napkin in his lap, and as he reached for his water glass, he debated tipping it and dousing the fire. With a strangled chuckle he imagined steam rising from his lap into the night air.
Then it occurred to him what this was about. Payback. This was payback for his…display…on the balcony. She was teasing him. She probably had plans to work him into a froth then pour ice water on his passion by word or deed or some scheme she’d spent the afternoon concocting. It was just like the woman.
Well, Texas. Surely you’ve heard the old saying about girls who play with fire getting burned. I’m of a mood to scorch you.
She’d caught him by surprise with this. After the events of the morning he’d expected her to be full of questions about the treasure—either that or saying her goodbyes prior to rejoining her sister or heading home to Texas. Instead, she barely mentioned the treasure and declared her intention to remain with him. It was curious. He’d take a moment to think about it when he had blood in his brain again.
Dair took another slow slip of wine and studied his dinner partner over the crystal glass. Was she at all aware of how dangerous it was to tease a man like him?
Emma finished her dessert by boldly licking the spoon. Then she licked her lips with a slow circle of her tongue that had Dair gripping his wineglass so hard he expected the stem to shatter. “Delicious,” she purred. “Simply delicious.”
“Yes,” Dair agreed, his gaze fastened on her mouth.
Go ahead, seduce her,
whispered a voice inside his head.
She has it coming. You know she does. Remember this morning.
He should put an end to this game of hers right here and now. He should sweep the dessert dishes off the table, rip up her skirt, and take her on the table. He set his wineglass on the table, then stood and called her bluff. “Delicious. I didn’t get enough.” He tugged her to her feet. “I want more.”
So he kissed her. Dair ravished her mouth with his lips and tongue, unleashing the passion that had burned inside him for hours, days, from the moment he first laid eyes on the woman in his arms, now clutching his shoulders and kissing him back with an eagerness that aroused him to new heights. He yanked pins from her hair and it tumbled, a golden waterfall, as she opened to the erotic stroke of his tongue. She whimpered his name against his mouth as his hand slid up to cup her breast through the silk of her gown.
He took it as permission and his practiced hands went to work, soon freeing her breast to the cool evening air. She moaned as his thumb rubbed across her sensitive skin and she arched into his hand. He gave a deep hum of satisfaction, then lowered his head. His lips closed on her nipple and greedily tasted heaven.
Desire was a hard, pounding force inside him and Dair knew that this time would be no gentle seduction. When she dragged at his jacket then tore at his shirt until her hands found his bare skin and stroked over his ribs, he growled his pleasure. She was as impatient as he. He released her breast and returned to her mouth, feasting there a moment before burying his face in her neck. He sucked hard, drawing heat to the surface while she panted and whimpered and helped his hands deal with laces and tapes and hooks-and-eyes.
Finally, she stood naked before him, a pagan goddess bathed in moonlight, her lids heavy with passion, her lips swollen from his kisses, her full breasts rising and falling with her rapid breaths. Devouring her with his hot, hungry gaze, he murmured, “Emma.”
“Just so you know, MacRae, if you’re thinking about leaving me stranded up here in retribution for this morning, I’ll cut your heart out and feed it to the dogs.”
“What?” He started to protest in his own defense, but he lost his train of thought when she reached for his belt buckle. Then she rubbed her breasts against his naked chest as her inquisitive fingers found him, fondled him, and freed him and he quit trying to think at all. He lifted her off her feet and captured her mouth with his. He steeped himself in the sweet taste of her, the scent of her—old roses and ripe woman. When she wrapped her legs around his hips, Dair resisted no longer. He backed her against the chimney and took her standing up.
It was furious and raw and rough. Need clawed through him as her nails raked his back. His blood roared in his veins. His breaths came in labored pants. She was wet for him, hot and tight and he pumped into her feverishly. He heard her whimper and moan and gasp. Felt her nails dig into his skin, her teeth nip his shoulder. “More…” he demanded, thrusting faster. Harder.
“Yes,” she moaned, gasping for air. “More.”
He plunged into her, deep and desperate, blinded by the red haze of desire. He felt the orgasm building at the base of his spine, and he tried to hold it back. But when she screamed a wild, primal sound of release and her feminine muscles gripped him like a vise, he could stand no more. Groaning and swearing, Dair drove into her once more, then erupted. A tidal wave of pleasure crashed over him, sucked him down into the heated vortex of a climax stronger and more powerful than any he’d ever known.
When he finally surfaced minutes—or maybe days—later, he realized she’d gone limp in his arms. His heart stuttered and remorse washed over him. “Oh God. I hurt you. Emma, I’m sorry—”
She lifted her head off his shoulder and smiled with smug satisfaction. “I drove you crazy.”
Regret melted away to amusement. “Since the day I met you.”
“I’m not through with you yet, MacRae.”
“Dear Lord in heaven I hope not.”
She laughed and her delight rang like wind chimes on the night air. Then she brushed a tender kiss across his lips. “Take me to bed, MacRae. The sex was delightful, but now I want to make love with you.”
Dair tried to ignore the apprehension her words sent shuddering down his spine. He wanted to shut his mind to everything but steeping himself in the heat of Emma’s passion.
Amazingly, he couldn’t do it. Any other woman, any other time, he wouldn’t have a problem putting his own needs first. For some strange reason, right now, with her it wasn’t working that way. He couldn’t forget that core of goodness she constantly revealed. Couldn’t dismiss that streak of innocence she occasionally betrayed. “Emma, wait. What’s going on here?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“Sex is obvious. Making love, on the other hand, is open to many interpretations. I think it’s important we make sure we’re both singing from the same hymnal.”
Her smile flashed. “I know I was good, MacRae, but a religious experience?”
He literally trembled with need.
Good Lord, I’m cutting off my nose to spite my face.
“Look, I want to make certain that you understand where I stand. I don’t want to be accused of leading you on at some later date. This…liaison…of ours is only temporary. Don’t look to me with thoughts of marriage or family or home. It will never happen.”
“Are you sure about that?”
See, he’d been right. That innocence of hers was undeniable. She was just the type to think that a sexual relationship inevitably ended up at the altar.
Hell, even if he wasn’t dying, that would never happen. Dair shuddered at the thought of marriage. The notion of fatherhood scared him to death. He’d never known his own father. He grew up in a orphanage. He barely remembered his mother’s love. What did he know about family ties? Nothing. Not a damned thing.