Lady of Seduction (6 page)

As she drew out one of those slim volumes, Caroline noticed a strange thing—a crack between two of the bookcases wider than
usual. She peered closer, and cold air drifted over her face. The shelf stood out from the wall an inch or so.

A secret door? There
were
mysteries on Muirin Inish, more every minute it seemed. Caroline grasped the edge of the shelf and carefully tugged. It was
very heavy, but it did slide toward her a few inches. She pulled harder, putting all her strength into it, and with a rusty
groan, it opened a full foot.

“By Jove,” Caroline whispered as she peered into the inky darkness of a secret passageway. Cold, damp air washed over her,
and she smelled the richness of wet earth.

She had read of such things, of course. Priest holes ingeniously built into English manor houses and smuggler’s caves under
coastal roads. When they were children, she and her sisters had explored Killinan Castle in search of just such a thing, but
they never found it. Killinan was much newer than this place, with only one medieval tower remaining near the Palladian-style
mansion that her grandfather built. They had been terribly disappointed.

And now here was a secret passageway right before her eyes.

She glanced back over her shoulder to the empty library. She had work to do—she should stay here where it was safe. But that
old sense of adventure was so very tempting.

“I’ll just go a little way,” Caroline said. Perhaps it would
give her some clue to where Grant had hidden
The Chronicle,
or if she was really lucky, lead her right to it.

She took one of the lamps and carefully used a table to hold the door open. Then, drawing in a deep breath, she plunged into
the unknown.

O
h, what am I doing?” Caroline whispered as something skittered over the toe of her boot. The passage was narrow and dank,
with stone walls that dripped with water and a dirt floor that was probably home to all manner of crawly little creatures.
It smelled of earth and rottenness, and faintly of the salty tang of sea. She could see little beyond the circle of her lamplight,
and what she could see was not promising.

There were a few broken, empty crates piled along the walls, but no ancient Irish ruins or anything that could hide treasures
and books. Nothing that could justify venturing into such a place. Caroline usually
read
about adventures. She didn’t often embark on them herself. Not since the terrible Rebellion of 1798, when she and her mother
and sisters had to flee their home. She had seen enough adventure, bloodshed, and battle then to last her whole life. Battles
in history books, tucked safely away at a distance of hundreds of years, were more her pastime now.

But she felt a little thrill as she made her way along the secret passage. The whole world was turned upside-down
ever since she had decided to come to Muirin Inish. Finding a dark passageway and deciding to explore it, against every grain
of prudent sense, just seemed to be an extension of all that impulse.

Maybe she was a true Blacknall woman after all.

Caroline laughed and walked faster along the corridor, suddenly very eager to see what happened next. Until a shrill scream
pierced the darkness ahead of her. A black, winged demon-creature suddenly swooped out of the shadows and flew toward her
head.

She shrieked and dove to the ground. The lamp fell from her hand and rolled across the dirt as the bird flew away.

“Don’t go out. Please don’t go out!” she whispered frantically, crawling toward the flickering light. She carefully set it
upright and listened for the return of the screaming bird—and probably dozens of its cohorts.

The lamp stayed lit, and the passage was blessedly silent again. Her heart slowly ceased its frantic pounding.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Caroline said. “It was just a crow or something commonplace like that.”

Or maybe it was a—bat? She peeked cautiously behind her to make sure it—whatever it was—was quite gone before she slowly rose
to her feet. Surely the presence of birds must mean that she was close to an entranceway. And maybe even closer to some of
Grant’s secrets.

Caroline shook away the lingering chill of sudden fright and plunged ahead. She had come much too far to turn back now.

She turned a bend in the corridor and felt a brush of colder air on her skin. The salty tang of the sea was heavier now. Then
the passage widened out into a small cave.

More crates were stacked along the walls. She rattled a few of them, but they all seemed empty. What had they once held? Brandy
and silks smuggled from France, destined for the homes of the Dublin Ascendancy? Or something worse?

She kicked at a crate in frustration. She wasn’t sure what she had expected to find here, but surely something more than piles
of old rubbish! There had to be other caves along the island’s shore, other places where things could be hidden. She would
just have to find them before the storm abated and Grant’s mysterious guests arrived—and he tossed her off Muirin Inish.

For now though, she had quite enough of caves and secrets. She had to see if there was an easier way back to the castle than
retracing her steps.

Caroline hurried toward the faint, grayish-yellow light that she could see just ahead. The cave finally ended in a narrow
entranceway, barely tall enough for her to duck through. She could glimpse the steady sheets of rain beyond and the charcoal-colored
sky. She extinguished the lamp and left it on the dirt floor before she pressed past the doorway—and almost tumbled down into
the sea.

Caroline let out a scream and threw herself back tight against the rock. There was only a very slim pathway outside the cave,
wide enough for one person to traverse. It wound its steep way down the side of the cliff to the rocky beach below.

She cautiously peered down past the sheer granite ledge. It seemed to be a sheltered cove, but even there the waters crashed
and boiled in a fury. No boats could possibly put in there today. Her hair and clothes were soaked in an instant by the blowing
rain, and she ducked back
into the mouth of the cave. Was she feeling bold enough to make her way down that path, wherever it might lead? Or should
she go back the way she came?

Caroline shook her head. She couldn’t face the bird-plagued passageway again just yet. She would take the daylight, even though
it meant another dousing. She took a deep breath and swung out onto the path.

Strong hands seized her by the arms, holding her in an iron grip before she could take a step. Terrified, Caroline screamed
and kicked out, twisting hard against her captor’s hold.

“Caroline!” he shouted hoarsely over the rush of the waves. “Damn it all, you cursed woman, hold still.”

Grant.
It was Grant who held her prisoner, who seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Caroline peered up at him through the wet tangle
of her hair. Her throat was so tight with panic that she could hardly breathe.

He was soaked, too, his white linen shirt clinging to the muscled contours of his chest, his black wool coat sodden. His hair
was tied back, and rain ran in diamond-like rivulets over the angles of his face. His jaw was tight with fury.

Caroline went very still, but he did not let her go. His clasp tightened on her arms, and he pressed her back farther into
the cave. He held her against the stone wall, his body so close to hers that she could feel the heat of him on her skin, the
raw strength of him. Whatever he did on this island, it was obviously not just sedentary study.

She stared up into his golden-brown eyes, which blazed with anger. She knew she should try to break away, to run. But she
was caught by those eyes, mesmerized like helpless prey under the gaze of a gorgeous but poisonous snake. She couldn’t turn
away.

He seemed to feel that strange pull as well. His body was drawn taut with tension, his breath harsh.

The storm outside was nothing to the one in her own heart. She stared at his mouth, the sensual curve of those lips, and remembered
how they had felt on hers when he kissed her so long ago. The way he tasted and the blurry, hot confusion that came over her—so
different from anything she had ever known. So intoxicating.

But she had been an innocent, virginal girl then. She was a woman now, a widow. Surely if he kissed her now, it would not
be so very overwhelming. She knew herself better, knew how disappointing the physical side of marriage really was.

Yet her skin burned where he touched her, and she ached to feel those lips on hers again. She swayed toward him against her
will, and his hands turned gentle on her arms. They slid down to take her hands in his, his fingers twisting with hers as
he held her against the wall.

His lips parted as his head tilted toward hers. Caroline shivered and arched against him.

But he did not kiss her.
“Mollaght,”
he said harshly as he pushed her back even tighter to the wall. He spun away from her, rubbing his hands hard over his face.

Caroline bit her lip to hold back a sob. She pressed herself tight to the cold stone to keep from falling.

What a fool she was, she thought bitterly. To be lured in once again by Grant Dunmore’s handsome face was beyond foolish.
Had she truly learned nothing in all these years? She had seen what he was capable of.

Yet still she wanted his kiss, wanted to feel that press of his body against hers.

“What the hell are you doing here, Caroline?” he said.
His back was still turned to her, his shoulders stiff. “How did you even find this place?”

“I was working in the library, and I found the doorway behind the shelf.”

“So of course, you had to walk through it,” he said. “You didn’t even know what was in there or where it would lead.”

Well, no, she hadn’t. And that was not like her in the least. Caroline curled her fists against the stone wall in chagrin.
“There must be a spell on this island that makes people act like bedlamites.”

Grant whirled back toward her, so fast that she didn’t even see him move until he had her pushed against the wall again. His
palms were flat to the rock, his arms holding her prisoner. She was tall for a woman, but he was much taller, and she couldn’t
breathe or think as she tilted her head back to stare at him. There was not even an inch between them. She could feel every
bit of his body against hers.

“There
is
a spell on this house, an evil one,” he said. Somehow the words in his calm, cultured voice seemed all the more frightening.
All the earlier roughness was gone, and he just seemed cold. “It’s not safe for you here, Caroline. That’s why you should
stay in your room and not go wandering around. Who knows what wickedness you might find.”

“That’s true enough,” she said. Caroline stiffened her spine with a courage she didn’t completely feel. Not when he looked
down at her so steadily with those chilly, blank dark eyes. “I found
you.
”

“And you’re lucky you did.” His hands slid over her shoulders, and she trembled at the heat of his touch through her wet dress.
“You could have been hurt, and no one would know where to find you.”

The truth of those words made her feel even more foolish. “So I should stay hidden in my room?”

“Yes, until I can get you off the island.” His gaze moved over her shoulders, to the way the wet fabric clung to her bosom.
Those chilly eyes heated to a chocolate-dark intensity.

She thought of the old tower, of Maeve’s wild tale of the dead housemaid. “And I definitely shouldn’t go to the tower?”

His stare snapped back up to her face, and his hands tightened on her upper arms. “Why would you want to go to the tower?
There’s nothing there.”

“Nothing at all?”

“It’s practically a shell, and it’s not safe there, either.” He suddenly pulled her up against him; her body pressed to his
as he drew her onto tiptoe.

She could feel every hard angle of him against her softness, the strength of his lean body—his erection through her wet skirts.
Whatever this insanity was, he felt it, too.

He leaned his head down to whisper in her ear, his hot breath stirring her hair. “Don’t make me lock you in again, Caroline.”

“Do you lock all your guests in their rooms?” she murmured. She laid her hands on his chest, curling her fingers into the
damp shirt to try to find her balance. The feel of his smooth skin and the strong beat of his heart under her touch only made
her dizzier.

“Only the troublesome ones,” he said, and for the first time a smile touched the corner of his lips.

“Am I a troublesome prisoner, then?”

“Most assuredly you are.” He kissed the soft, sensitive spot just below her ear and touched her there with the tip of his
tongue.

Caroline gasped at the rush of lightning-hot sensation. Her fists closed convulsively on his shirt, and her eyes closed. His
lips slid slowly along her neck, open and warm. He bit lightly at the curve of her shoulder, and her knees collapsed under
her.

His arms came hard around her waist, lifting her up high. He braced her between his body and the wall, and Caroline instinctively
wrapped her legs around his waist to keep herself from falling. She had never felt so weak, so strange. Something primal and
instinctive grew from deep inside her, overwhelming all her senses.