A Trap So Tender Page 8

  “That’s okay with me.” She whispered the words in his ear as she trailed a tempting finger down below his belly button. He shuddered as desire rolled through him like a clap of thunder.

  Will you marry me?

  He knew better than to say it right now. At least he still had that much self-control. But tomorrow?

  Six

  Fiona woke up wondering where she was. Bright moonlight poured through a crack in the curtains and memories of the previous evening flooded back, making her stomach clench.

  She’d slept with James Drummond.

  A quick glance at the pillow next to her contradicted her thoughts. Nope. They hadn’t slept together. They’d had hot steamy, passionate, uninhibited sex on a leather sofa in the library of his baronial castle. Then they’d quietly gone to their separate rooms to sleep.

  What had she been thinking? It was one thing to kiss him, quite another to rip his clothes off with wild abandon and make the beast with two backs, shortly after figuring out how to trick him into selling her a property she wanted. He had no idea who she was or that she was here for a form of revenge.

  Should she be proud of herself for successfully seducing James into a false sense of security? Maybe some people would be, but she felt disgusted by her own duplicity. The worst part was that she actually liked James. To her horror she found him rather sweet, oddly affectionate and passionate in a way she’d never expected.

  Her own feelings surprised her. Was it her treasonous purpose here that charged the atmosphere with sexual tension and sent desire whipping through her body at every glance?

  She didn’t think so.

  In one of the universe’s cruel little jokes, she suspected that she and James actually had a lot in common and shared a fierce physical attraction based on simple and natural chemistry. In other words, they were a good match.

  What a shame he was going to end up hating her when he found out she’d come here for her own reasons.

  She picked up her phone to check the time. 4:30 a.m.? Ugh. There was a message, so she replayed it, hoping for a distraction.

  “Fifi, I’m worried about you.” Her father’s gruff voice. She smiled. How sweet of him to think about her. “Don’t let that devil James Drummond take advantage of you.” She blanched. Though had James really taken advantage of her, or was it the other way around? Either way, her dad would be horrified. “You can’t get the factory back. You should come home.”

  The abrupt beep at the end of the message made her jump. He wanted her to come back to Singapore and thought of it as her home? Her heart swelled. Just a few weeks ago he’d never have thought to call her. How much their relationship had changed already! Soon she’d be helping him rebuild his business and his pride and they’d embrace a bright future together.

  It would be midday in Singapore. Should she call him to reassure him? Or would she just feel more deceptive when she told him everything was fine while her insides still throbbed with sense memories of last night?

  The thought of lying there wide-awake for another three or four hours made her want to run around screaming, so she dialed his number.

  “Fifi, you need to come home.” His immediate command made her smile.

  “Hi, Dad. Don’t worry about me. I’m enjoying Scotland.”

  “That’s what I’m worried about!”

  She wanted to laugh, except that his worries were well-founded. “James has no idea who I am, so don’t fret. I’ll be back before you know it.” Her mind tried to crank out new possibilities that could contain this mess somewhat. “What about if I help you find a new building for your factory?”

  “Bah. I’m too old to start again.”

  “Nonsense. You’re not even sixty! I could help you figure out a new business plan. It would be fun.” Then she wouldn’t have to worry about tricking James and they could start all over again on a different footing. She could buy her father a factory in a far more sensible industrial area with much lower taxes, and he could rebuild his business, with her emotional and financial support. “That wasn’t a good spot for a factory, anyway. The neighborhood got too fancy.”

  “That’s what made it valuable. I was going to sell that land and make my fortune.”

  Then you should have paid your taxes. She held her tongue. The taxes had spiraled out of control as the value of the land rose, and her dad had stubbornly clung to the factory when his profits no longer covered the expenses. He was one of the few people who failed to benefit from Singapore’s rapid growth as a world business center. “Why don’t you try a different kind of business? What about another restaurant?” He’d had a chain of steakhouses or something similar. At least that’s what her mom said.

  “No thanks. Customers give me a bellyache.”

  She laughed. Her dad’s people skills did not seem to be that great. She could imagine him barking at anyone who dared to complain about the food. “What about something that services hotels or shipping so you’re cashing in on the new economy?”

  “Handbags and shoes made me a rich man, Fifi. They’re what I know and what I like.”

  Her heart sank. He was so stubborn. Apparently getting his accursed factory back was the only way to make him happy, and he obviously did want it, no matter what he said. Even though making dated handbags that couldn’t compete with Chinese exports sounded like a sinkhole for money.

  Unless… Maybe she could help him with rebranding and bring to life the high-end luxury retail store she’d made up to humor James. Now she did laugh. Was her little white lie the way to make everyone happy? “I know, Dad. It’s what you love. I get it, and I’ll make sure you get it back.”

  “You’re a daughter any man would be proud of. Come home soon, Fifi.” Characteristically abrupt, he hung up, leaving her listening to a dial tone with a mix of confusion and happiness. Okay, so the situation was complicated. She’d just have to negotiate it the best way she could. If only she could give her dad the money. But he was a man of fierce convictions who held tightly to what he believed, and she admired that. She wanted him to feel the same way about her, and all this would be worth it in the end when she could stand arm in arm with her dad, both of them successful again and with a bright future to share.

  * * *

  James felt a twinge of unaccustomed anxiety as he walked across the gravel and up the steps. His early-morning conviction and enthusiasm was fired by their unbelievably sensual night. A day of rushing around and trying to make things happen had slapped him back to reality. By the time he finally contacted and visited a jeweler who could make and size a ring to his exact specifications within the day, it was already late afternoon and he’d driven for hours and made close to thirty phone calls.

  The ring, however, pulsed and throbbed in its little velvet-lined box in the inside pocket of his jacket.

  He’d obtained Fiona’s ring size last night while she was sleeping, using one of her own shed hairs to very carefully measure and record the size of her ring finger. The element of secrecy and wondering how he’d explain himself if she woke up gave the whole endeavor an air of adventure and mystery.

  Would she be surprised by a proposal? Of course. And there was always the possibility that she’d say no.

  He didn’t think she would, though. Was he being arrogant? Perhaps. Or simply realistic about the inability of most women, even extraordinary women, to say no to an estate the size of a small country and a large fortune accessible in any liquid currency. Fiona was a practical woman, and he felt sure he could convince her of the merits of marriage.

  He also hoped he could do it before the all-important board meeting on Tuesday of next week.

  A fire crackled in the grate of the great hall when he entered. Odd for this time of year.

  “Afternoon, sir, let me take your coat.” Lizzie, the housekeeper, approached. Then she whispered, “She said it was a bit chilly and asked to light the fire.”

  “Why not? I know it’s still autumn and balmy for us, but compared to Singapore or C
alifornia, it’s downright freezing.” He smiled. He liked that Fiona had felt free to make herself at home in the place that he hoped would soon be her home. At least for a few weekends a year.

  Fiona stood at the sound of his voice. And smiled with what appeared to be genuine pleasure. A strange and unfamiliar sensation started to unfold in his chest. He realized that he was very glad to see her.

  With a jolt he noticed his hand had wandered to the ring in his pocket, and he pulled it back to his side. He’d have to find the perfect moment for a proposal, when they were far away from the attentive ears of the staff. And when he could argue convincingly in his own favor without being heard. “Did you manage to keep busy today?”

  “I did. I spent a few hours going through some of the rooms we looked into yesterday. I tried out each one of the candlesticks to see if they could possibly be a goblet stem in disguise.”

  “Any luck?”

  “None whatsoever.” She didn’t look sad about that. “It could take a long time to find that cup fragment.”

  “If it even exists.” Impatience zinged through him. Fiona looked even more beautiful than the girl who had fired his imagination as he drove like a demon on winding country roads all day. With her silky hair in a loose knot, and a fluffy white sweater over tight, dark jeans, she looked fresh and sexy, and his fingers itched to explore the textures and curves he’d grown acquainted with last night.

  Will you marry me? He tested the question in his mind and tried to imagine her saying yes, but his imagination fell short when it came to putting words in her mouth. He’d have to wait.

  They shared champagne and a walk in the garden before dinner. After they ate, he once again banished the staff, who must have known something was up, and they kissed and caressed, this time in the ladies’ sitting room with its lush tapestries and a collection of watercolors by his more talented female ancestors.

  He watched and waited for the right moment to reach for the ring, but never felt with conviction that the moment had arrived. He knew it would be like knowing the perfect price point to buy a rising stock, or the exact moment to go in for the kill in a meeting, and he was patient enough to wait.

  They made love in his bed—frantic and breathless, then slow and sensual, exploring and enjoying each other’s bodies. They giggled and held each other, and talked about all sorts of strange things he hadn’t thought about in years: his first kiss (a girl at a dance arranged by his boarding school); his first great ambition (to play cricket for Scotland); how many children he hoped to have (three).

  “Why three?” Her eyes shone with warmth and interest.

  “I have no idea. I came up with that on the spot. I’m not sure I’ve ever thought about it before.”

  She hesitated for a moment. “And suddenly you are.”

  “Yes.” The moment burned with promise. Was it time to grab the ring from his jacket, which now lay crumpled on the floor somewhere? He didn’t want to break up their perfect embrace. Her arms were wrapped around him like a pair of warm angel wings. “But now it’s your turn. When was your first kiss?”

  “I was seventeen, and felt like the last girl in my grade to be kissed. Danny Adams finally broke the curse in the parking lot behind the bowling alley.”

  “It sounds very romantic.”

  “I wish it was. His braces snagged in my hair when he tried to kiss my ear, and we never really made it back from that.”

  He laughed. “I can’t picture you as a gawky teen.”

  “Please don’t. It wasn’t a pretty picture. I’m so much happier as a grown-up. And I’m totally over my first ambition of being an air force pilot.”

  He lifted a brow. “What happened?”

  She grinned. “I don’t like being told what to do, so I’m definitely better off being self-employed.”

  “And how many children?” His heart pumped almost audibly. He knew they were talking about their future, the one they’d share. He could feel it as easily as he could feel the heat from her skin warming his own.

  “Hmm. I have two younger brothers, and I admit there were times when I wished I was an only child. But in retrospect I have to agree that three is a nice, round number. An heir and a spare and plenty of room for someone to be the black sheep.” She grinned.

  “See? I knew there was a good reason for me picking three. We agree on a lot of things.” A warm silence, pregnant with possibilities, stretched between them. But it still wasn’t the time. They were building toward it, step by step, as the pharaohs had built the pyramids. Better to take it slow and steady and make sure all the foundations were in place, than rush and miscalculate and show up in the boardroom next Tuesday with no momentous news to announce.

  He wasn’t at all sure the deal with SK Industries that he’d spent a year building would go through without his change of marital status. The chairman of the board had expressed his strong disapproval that a man of James’s age and status had no family to speak of and went home alone each night. James might have ignored it if it wasn’t the fifth or sixth time he’d heard the same thing—usually second- or third-hand—in the past year. And if he hadn’t started, silently, to agree. “Three’s a perfect number. Or even four if the last one is a set of twins.” He stroked her cheek.

  “Now I’m starting to feel tired.” She smiled, resting her head on his chest. He couldn’t believe how comfortable he felt with her, talking about things he’d never discussed with anyone. It only strengthened his conviction that Fiona was the one.

  Now all he had to do was convince her of that.

  * * *

  Fiona woke in a dreamy state the next morning, one arm still draped across James’s broad chest. What a night. James continued to surprise her. She tried to remind herself that she was one in a long line of women he’d seduced and bedded and was simply the latest victim of his charms. It was hard, though. If she didn’t know better she’d almost think he really liked her.

  They ate a leisurely breakfast together, then headed out for a ride. She rode the adorable Taffy again, and James rode a majestic dark bay called Solomon. They cantered across the green fields around the estate, slowing to a walk as they left the manicured swards of grass and ventured out into the rugged hills. Brown from a distance, up close the hills glittered with colorful heather, in lavenders and pinks and whites, bursting with life under the bright sky.

  “This landscape is unbelievable.” She looked at James, who rode along on a loose rein, looking every inch the dashing medieval prince. “How come it’s not covered with tract homes, or shopping malls?”

  He laughed. “Too remote. And the best thing about owning everything the eye can see is that you can control its future.”

  No doubt his modus operandi in the business world, as well.

  “This mound dates back at least five thousand years.” He steered his horse up a narrow track onto a swelling in the heather-clad terrain that rose about twenty feet above the surrounding plain.

  “Why was it built?”

  “We don’t know. One of the many mysteries of this landscape.” From the top you could look down into a green valley where a village hugged the banks of a river, a church steeple rising above the roofs. “I like to come up and think about all the people who’ve walked and ridden here before. It gives me a sense of perspective on my place in the universe.”

  “One more in a long line of people to walk this way.” The thought gave her chills. She felt so small against the grand landscape.

  “Exactly.” He jumped down from his horse. “Let me help you dismount.” Holding his reins in one hand, he approached her.

  “Here?” Why would they get off out here in the middle of nowhere?

  He nodded, a tiny smile tugging at his lips. Apprehension crept over her. A sense of something about to happen. She jumped down to the soft, mossy turf. Their horses were blowing with exertion, steam rising from their bodies in the relatively cool air.

  James did something with the horses’ reins that kept them knotted u
p around their neck, then left them standing together. Both just stood there, blinking and steaming, as he walked back to her. “Will they simply wait?”

  “They’re trained to, for hunting. Though you can never entirely tell what horses will do.” He glanced back at them with a smile. As he approached her she saw him reach into one of the pockets of his dark green jacket, and an expression of concentration crossed his face.

  Her breath came faster as he stopped right in front of her and reached for her hand. She gave it to him and hoped it wasn’t sweating. Was he going to kiss her? Her lips tingled in anticipation.

  “Fiona…” He paused for a moment and frowned. The intense look in his slate-gray eyes made her pulse ratchet higher. “Do you ever just know when something is right?”

  “Um, sure.” It was hard to think with him standing there holding her hand, with that piercing gaze fixed on her. And the two horses watching like spectators.

  He held her one hand in both of his. “I pride myself on my instincts. They’ve stood me well over the years. And my instincts tell me that you’re…different.”

  She swallowed. Had he realized she wasn’t really there to help him find the cup? Had he sniffed out her true motive? Fear clawed at her heart.

  But his gaze had softened. “I felt it the moment I met you. You’re smart, and serious, and you chart your own course in life. I knew immediately you were someone I could talk to, and you’d understand.”

  She nodded, not sure what to say. This conversation was so strange, with him holding her hand out here in the middle of nowhere. If she didn’t know better she’d almost suspect he was about to propose marriage or something crazy like that.

  As she had the thought he went down on one knee on the damp turf and reached into his pocket. Her jaw dropped as her heartbeat bumped up to maximum speed.

  “Fiona, every instinct in my mind and body tells me that you’re the woman for me. I know we’ve only known each other a short time, but I feel sure that we’d form a powerful and loving partnership that could take on the world.” He drew in a steady breath. “Fiona, will you marry me?”