A Trap So Tender (4 page)

“Don’t give your money to that demon. He stole it from me.”

“I know. Did you call the lawyer I told you about?” Surely if
it was illegally obtained, her dad could get it back through the courts.

“Pah, lawyers. They’ll just take more of my money and keep
it.”

“So he paid your taxes and got to keep the building? I don’t
really understand how that can happen.”

“I was a little late with them. Not much, you understand. Just
a little late.”

How late? The government office she’d contacted said he’d lost
the property through nonpayment but wouldn’t reveal the details. Her dad firmly
maintained that James had stolen it. Her relationship with her dad was still in
a delicate, early stage and she didn’t want to do anything that might embarrass
him and drive him away. “I’ll figure something out. Anyway, I wanted to let you
know where I am so you don’t worry.”

“It sounds like I have good reason to worry, Fifi. You watch
out for yourself with that
ang mo gui.
”

“I will.” She wanted to protest that James didn’t have red
hair, but of course the term
ang mo gui
was a
generalized slang for Westerners that happened to mean “red-haired devil.” “I
can handle myself just fine.” She glanced around the dark bedroom, reluctant to
hang up the phone and lose her lifeline back to the real world. It was 3:00
a.m., with hours of darkness between now and morning. And who knew how many auld
ghosts hung and hovered in the corners. “When I get back I want to take you to
my new favorite restaurant.” Hopefully to give him the good news that she’d
regained control of his factory, but no sense getting overconfident.

“I’d love that, Fifi. It’ll be my treat.”

She swallowed. She wasn’t sure he could even buy her dinner at
McDonald’s at the moment, but he’d be terribly upset if he knew she knew that.
She had to come up with all kinds of creative stratagems to pay for their meals
and buy him presents. His pride had no doubt played a part in his fall—a lesson
she could learn from. “Great. You’d better not call me here, just in case. I
don’t want them to figure out I’m your daughter. I’m keeping everything
secret.”

He laughed, obviously delighted by the subterfuge. “My lips are
sealed.”

“I’ll call again soon.” She hung up, with a sudden rush of
emotion and happiness that she had a second chance to grow close to her father.
She wasn’t going to blow it. He’d always wished for a son to carry on his name,
but she’d show him that a daughter could be even better.

* * *

Her next encounter with James came at the breakfast table.
Bored and restless alone in her room, she grew brave and ventured downstairs by
herself. She hadn’t fallen back to sleep after her conversation with her father,
and now she was starving. Dishes of bacon, a rack of cold toast with butter and
marmalade, a vat of jellified oatmeal. All very austere and aristocratic. She
wolfed down some toast and bacon, and three cups of brutally strong tea, and was
feeling fairly human by the time he strode in.

“Sorry I wasn’t down first. I was more tired than I
thought.”

“No worries. I found my way here. I might get used to having
breakfast waiting for me every morning.”

“Would you like coffee? We do have some, way up in a cupboard
somewhere.”

“I’ll survive on tea. I like to go native when I’m in a new
place.”

“Katherine emailed me pictures of the other two parts of the
cup. I’ve just sent them to you.”

She pulled out her phone and looked at hard-to-read images of
dark metal against a white background. “She’s very excited that I’m finally
looking for it. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I’m using security
guards to prevent people from combing the estate for it and claiming her
reward.”

Fiona smiled. “We’d better find it quick before she raises the
reward to attract more people.”

“Too true.” James was more annoyingly handsome than ever. He
wore loose riding breeches with tall leather boots and a checked shirt, which
should have looked silly but made him seem tall and dashing and like the lord
and master of all he surveyed. “I’m going riding this morning and I thought you
might join me, if you’re interested.” His eyebrow lifted slightly. Was he
calling her bluff? Maybe he didn’t believe she could ride.

“I’d love to.” She smiled coolly. “I hope it’s not against the
law to ride in jeans and loafers.”

“We have so many old laws here I just assume everything’s
forbidden and go ahead with it anyway.” He piled bacon, toast and some bright
orange scrambled eggs onto a plate. “Luckily the place is so big and remote
there’s no one around to stop me.”

“Good.” Her pulse had quickened. Possibly from the prospect of
galloping through the Scottish countryside, but more likely from the
early-morning vision of James, with his dark hair wet and slicked back, and
droplets of water still clinging to his neck and dampening the collar of his
shirt. “Do you miss riding when you’re in Singapore?” She still found it odd
that he chose to spend most of his time there when he had his own grand empire
here in Scotland.

“Not at all. I play polo at least twice a week.” He drank some
tea.

“Oh.” Of course. No wonder he looked so fit and muscular.

“Do you play?”

“No. I’ve never tried it. I’d love to, though.”

He raised a brow. “Really? We’ll have to look into that when
we’re back in Singapore.”

Her heart beat faster. Damn, she wished she could take him up
on his offer. She’d always wanted to play polo but never had the chance. Going
for trail rides and the occasional jumping competition was a pretty exclusive
experience back in Cali, and she’d felt privileged to do that. But of course by
the time they were back in Singapore, James would likely know who she really was
and probably hate her guts, so she wouldn’t be invited to his polo club.

If she was successful, at least. Regret unfurled in her heart.
It was almost a shame that James had to be her enemy. She could have had a lot
of fun with him.

After breakfast she changed into jeans and James led her to the
stables, a long stone building with an elegant slate roof. Tall, magnificent
horses peered out over freshly painted stable doors. “You have a lot of
horses.”

“Eight.” He strode along the cobbled walk in front of the
building. “That’s more than enough work for Mick.”

“Is he the groom?”

“The trainer. He rides them every other day. Toby is the head
groom.”

Even the stables were a small industry in this well-run machine
of luxury and privilege. And he thought the place desolate and deserted!

“I think you should ride Taffy.” He indicated a large gray
horse with a kind eye.

“She looks lovely.” Her halter and lead rope hung next to the
door. “Should I bring her out, or is there a large staff for that?”

He laughed. “Bring her out. I always groom and tack up myself.
It’s the only way to know what mood they’re in before you go out looking for
trouble.”

Taffy put her head right down into the halter and stood like a
rock while she buckled it. She led her out and was surprised her hooves didn’t
clatter on the cobbles.

“Is she barefoot?” She glanced down and mentally answered her
own question before he could answer.

“Yes. I keep all my horses unshod if they can handle it. Their
feet adapt to handle their work and it’s healthier for them. People stare and
point but I get the last laugh when their horse loses a shoe in the middle of a
hunt.”

Fiona blinked. James was full of surprises. She wouldn’t have
thought someone like him would put a moment’s thought into the well-being of his
animals.

“You can tie her up here. I’ll bring out the grooming kit.” He
pointed to a large iron ring, gleaming black, no doubt from the invisible work
of skilled hands. She tied up the very polite Taffy, who outside her stall was
absolutely enormous, and let her sniff her hand.

James returned with an elegant wooden grooming kit and a tall
bay horse with steam pouring from its nostrils. “Poor Dougal has been cooped up
in his stall for a month. He’s a bit fresh.”

Fiona stared. He was going to ride that thing? “He’s very
handsome. How do you choose your horses?”

“Gut instinct. I bought most of them as babies. An old school
friend of mine is a breeder and he suckers me into visiting his stud at least
once a year.”

The horses were so clean someone had probably already groomed
them that morning. She dusted Taffy off with a soft brush, and a young man
appeared with two saddles and bridles. “Let me put that up there for you,
ma’am.” She let him heft the polished saddle onto Taffy. Probably a good thing
since the mare’s back was well above the top of Fiona’s head. The mare put her
head down so Fiona could slip the bridle on, then the groom brought over a
polished wood mounting block the size and shape of a flight of six steps. In a
flash of disappointment, she realized she had been hoping James would have to
give her a leg up.

What’s wrong with you, Fiona? Keep your
mind on the reason you’re here. James may have pretty horses and a fancy
castle but he’s a cold, cruel man who makes his millions by exploiting
others.

She didn’t entirely convince herself, but she managed to climb
into the saddle and get her mind off the way James’s well-cut breeches
emphasized his muscled rear end.

Taffy seemed unphased by a new rider, and quietly followed
James and his snorting steed out of the cobbled courtyard and down a lane past
high stone walls. They passed through a high gateway and down a short hill
through some woods. James kept asking if she was okay. He obviously thought that
she’d fibbed about being able to ride and expected her to reveal her
incompetence at any minute. The weird part was that he cared. If he was the
ruthless jerk she’d expected, he would have just galloped off and left her to
fend for herself.

She made sure not to reveal too much riding skill. Even giggled
and pretended to drop the reins when Taffy reached for some grass by the side of
the drive. After about five minutes of walking past scenic castle vistas, the
horses were nicely warmed up and she had a feel for the lovely Taffy.

That’s when they passed through one more gate and a solid mile
of open fields stretched out before them like a racetrack. “Shall we let them
stretch their legs?” She spoke innocently.

“Um.” James looked doubtfully at the pair of them. She must
appear to be very tiny up on Taffy, who was the biggest horse she’d ever sat on,
at least eighteen hands. “Okay. You lead the way.”

No doubt so he could come scoop her up when she fell off. She
smiled secretly as she passed him. Then she gathered up her reins and urged
Taffy into a collected trot. When she was sure the horse was listening to her
and understood that she knew what she was doing, she sat down and squeezed with
her legs. As anticipated, Taffy shifted gears like a finely tuned Bentley,
easing into a steady canter, then an active one. She rose out of the saddle as
Taffy opened up into a gallop, and realized she was grinning from ear to ear for
reasons that had nothing to do with James, as the wind whipped her face and the
landscape flew by in a green blur.

This was fun!

Four

J
ames had planned to keep to a walk. He’d
deliberately chosen Dougal, who was recovering from a tendon injury and needed
to be eased back into work. Fiona was small and slight, and just because she’d
gone on a beach ride once in her life did not mean she could ride. She looked
rather precarious up on Taffy, whose powerful build was outmatched only by her
gentle, forgiving nature. In her fashionable skinny jeans and white designer
loafers, Fiona looked as if she should be strolling along a quay somewhere, not
climbing astride a massive beast, but she kept smiling and managed to adjust her
stirrups and girth like someone who knew what she was doing.

He kept things at a slow pace, which wasn’t easy with poor,
wound-up Dougal desperate to blow off some steam. He probably should have taken
a quieter horse, but he knew Dougal needed the workout.

Then Fiona took off. Staring wide-eyed, he watched after her,
struggling passionately with Dougal, who wanted nothing more than to blast off
after her but could not be allowed to because of his healing tendon. Rearing and
throwing himself around, Dougal kept James fully occupied for a solid five
minutes, until he heard the drumbeat of Taffy’s hooves returning back toward
him. He looked up, already reaching for his phone to call for help, sure the
horse would be riderless. But that wasn’t the case.

“You’re alive.” Relief crashed through him. Fiona’s face shone,
cheeks pink and lips reddened by the wind. Taffy was panting and blowing,
stretching her neck down.

“I’ve fallen in love.”

“Really?” He blinked, still struggling with Dougal, who had now
wound himself into a frenzy. He was almost tempted to shout that he was in love,
too. That kiss kept slamming back into his mind, which didn’t help matters.
Things couldn’t get much crazier than they already were, and Fiona was like a
blast of cool, fresh air in his rather predictable existence.

“Taffy is a horse in a million. She listens to every move you
make.”

He laughed. Okay. So she wasn’t in love with him. Was he
disappointed? He wanted to slap himself. “I know. That’s why I chose her for
you. She also ignores any stupid moves you make, but that doesn’t seem to be
important in your case.” He scanned the horse and rider. She sat effortlessly on
her huge mount, with a casual loose rein, as if she was lounging in a beach
chair. “I admit I hadn’t expected you to be so…competent.”

“I know.” She laughed. “You expected me to slide off when we
started trotting, didn’t you?”

“Absolutely.” He grinned. “But I’m glad you didn’t. Dougal is
recovering from an injury, so he and I are devastated that we can’t join you in
another gallop.”

“Maybe another time.” Her chin lifted and her face shining, she
looked ravishingly beautiful, even in the black velvet riding hat that didn’t
flatter too many people.

“Definitely.” In fact, he wasn’t sure he could wait until
tomorrow. “But perhaps for now we could stay together in a steady trot so poor
Dougal doesn’t bow another tendon.”

“You’ve got it.” She eased into a trot, and he watched her
elegant behind rise up and down in the saddle, with the feeling that his tongue
was hanging out like a dog’s. Fiona Lam was turning out to be different than he
expected. Was that good? He wasn’t sure. He’d been instantly attracted to her,
and that had grown into a rich and invigorating lust during the hours they’d
spent together thus far.

She’d seemed a good prospect as a partner, as she was
intelligent and appeared sensible. Her blend of Singaporean and American
background held its own appeal, from a purely business perspective, since she
bridged the two cultures where most of his business took place, and where he
sometimes ran aground when his own very British upbringing put him at a
disadvantage. Sometimes he didn’t “get” other people’s opinions and
perspectives, and it made him realize how narrow the horizons he’d been raised
with truly were.

So far Fiona’s visit was a blistering success. He’d better make
sure that cup base didn’t turn up anytime soon as he had no intention of losing
her. Not that they were likely to find it anyway. It had probably been melted
down into a weapon or used as a target for shooting practice, knowing the
Drummond clan. If it did happen to turn up, he could find some other way to
delay her. She certainly seemed to be enjoying herself so far.

She slowed her trot and let him come alongside her. “I don’t
understand you at all.”

“No?”

“You could do this every day, and you choose to live in a
high-rise apartment in one of the most crowded cities on earth.”

“I must be mad.”

He’d brought women here before—they often clamored to come see
the ancestral pile—and most of them spent their time complaining about the
weather or wondering where the nearest good shopping was (answer: a very long
way away). Fiona, on the other hand, had dived right into the spirit of the
place.

“I think you are mad. That’s okay, though. We’re all mad in our
own special way.” She rode alongside him, grinning from ear to ear. “I’m
beginning to think I’ve been crazy to spend so much of the past five years
hunched over a laptop. I definitely need to spread my wings a bit.”

“You’ve earned the right.” She’d made more in her first five
years out of college than most people made in a lifetime.

“I suppose I have. I never looked at it that way. I feel like a
slacker when I’m not working on my next big plan.”

“Believe me, I know all about that. I don’t think I’ve taken a
legitimate vacation in…” Had he ever taken one? He didn’t even remember a ski
trip that didn’t have some ulterior business partnership motive. “A while.”

“It appears that we have a lot in common.”

“Yes.” Desire snapped between them like the brisk hilltop wind.
Thoughts of kissing her crowded his mind and made it hard to stay focused on
Dougal’s antics. Would it be so wrong if they made love tonight? The attraction
was obviously mutual. They’d known each other more than twenty-four hours and
had already spent one night under the same roof.

“Why are you laughing?” Her eyes sparkled and her hair whipped
around her riding helmet.

“I don’t know. I must be drunk on fresh air.” He did feel
giddy, possibilities swirling in his mind. Could he have found the right woman
to marry? Of course he didn’t love her or anything dramatic like that. He was
far too sensible to let his emotions run amok. You didn’t own a
two-billion-dollar business if you let anything rule you other than a cool head.
But his calculating mind was spitting out projections that made time with Fiona
look like a very promising investment.

“Me, too.” A drizzle of rain had joined the stiff wind and
glossed her cheeks. Most women he knew would be squinting against it and
worrying about their hairdo. Fiona tipped back her head and let the mist kiss
her skin.

He had every intention of kissing her himself, as soon as
possible. “We’d better go back. I think Dougal has had enough excitement for one
morning.”

“Of course. I’m dying to see more of the castle now that I’ve
had a good night’s sleep and my brain is functioning again. I barely even
remember what happened yesterday.”

He wanted to laugh again. That kiss was so fresh in his mind he
could almost taste it. Was she trying to claim she was so addled by travel and
lack of sleep that it had happened by accident? Strangely, that fueled his
desire to seduce her all over again. He could rarely resist a challenge. “I wish
I could race you back.”

“I’d win.” Confidence shone in her face, brighter than her
wind-slapped pink cheeks.

“I know these horses a lot better than you. Maybe I
deliberately gave you the slower one.”

“I’m sure you did, but I’d win anyway.”

“How?” Dougal started dancing under him, probably sensing his
fierce desire to take her up on the challenge right this minute.

“Sheer determination. It will get you almost anything if you
have enough of it.”

He laughed. “We’ll have to put that to the test.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

So was he. She might think she could beat him, but that was
only because he’d given her room to make that mistake. No one ever got the best
of James Drummond unless he wanted them to for some strategic purpose of his
own. If she beat him it was because he’d let her, for reasons she might never
guess.

What would she think if she knew that he was planning their
wedding? A grand affair in the old chapel on the estate, with guests flown in
from all over the world. Then an ostentatious party in Singapore to woo future
business partners and impress them with his new “family man” status. He’d plan
and execute the entire affair like the rollout of a new business. Fiona Lam
would have no idea what hit her.

* * *

The exhilarating morning ride left Fiona buzzing with
excitement. She couldn’t wait to do it again. Sadness sneaked in around the
edges of her pleasure, since this adventure—like her mini-affair with
James—would be short-lived. For a few brief seconds, astride her powerful and
generous horse, she’d allowed herself to imagine what it would feel like if this
was her real life. Her imagination had gone galloping off with her, and she’d
had to reel it harshly back in. She was hardly cut out to be lady of a Scottish
manor, and the locals would no doubt be appalled that a girl with no pedigree
whatsoever had usurped their laird.

She wanted to laugh. She was planning to usurp their laird. No
one here would ever even know about it, though. She’d get that factory back and
disappear quietly to another part of the world. No one outside the insular
business community of Singapore would ever even notice it had happened. For
James it would be a small business plan gone sour, and soon forgotten. He’d
forget her quickly enough, too.

She swallowed. How odd to know the ending of this story when it
had barely started.

They spent the afternoon walking the halls of the older parts
of the castle, through surprisingly small rooms with flagstone floors and
plastered walls. “Where’s all the stuff?”

“What stuff?” James had changed into dark pants and a pale
striped shirt that added to his patrician air.

“The furniture, knick-knacks, you know. It doesn’t look like
anyone ever lived here.”

“I suppose my ancestors probably gambled it all away or sold it
off. Don’t forget old uncle Gaylord, who lost the place in a card game. Maybe
the person who won it put everything on the auction block.”

“What a shame.” The room they were in had a single high window,
almost above eye level, which gave it the air of a prison cell. “It’s part of
your family history.”

“The history exists regardless of whether there’s a bunch of
old junk here.” He pointed to a dark soot stain on the ceiling. “Someone
probably sat here reading by candlelight.”

“Or sewing.”

“Or gambling away their last shilling.” His mischievous grin
tickled her insides.

“Or plotting revenge on their enemies.”

“Or making love.” His eyes narrowed slightly, thoughtful.

“You don’t need light for that,” she said quietly. The
atmosphere thickened.

“True. Just a soft surface.” A tiny smile pulled at his
mouth.

“If even that.” She tried to act much cooler than she felt. Her
imagination was scampering off in all directions. James Drummond spread-eagled
on the flagstone floor, half-naked and whispering her name. James Drummond
pressing her up against the plastered wall, breathing in her ear. “Maybe they
weren’t as picky as we are.”

James stepped toward her and kissed her in one swift movement.
Her breath and thoughts fled for parts unknown as his lips closed over hers. He
tasted delicious, intoxicating as a fine Scotch whiskey, even though they hadn’t
drank a drop at lunch. His arms circled her torso, holding her close in a very
romantic way. No groping or fondling—more’s the pity, since her fingers now
pressed into the muscle of his back and itched to roam farther afield.

When he pulled back she opened her eyes, blinking in the bright
light coming through the high window. “Was that some kind of historical
reenactment?” She didn’t know what to say and just wanted to fill the air with
sound to break the thick tension that had gathered.

“It’s history now, but the future will be here before we know
it.” He tilted his head slightly, regarding her through narrowed, storm-gray
eyes. His arms still held her, and the desire to break free warred with the urge
to clutch him closer. What was she doing? Could this lead
anywhere
good?

Oh, yes,
some dark, selfish and
lustful part of her brain answered. Somewhere very good. James’s bed, for a
start.

She’d been so wrapped up in her business lately she’d had
little time for socializing. The publicity leading up to the sale of Smileworks
had scared all but her oldest and closest friends into being intimidated by her,
and the fact that it had sold for more than her wildest dreams hadn’t helped one
bit.

She blinked again. James was far too good-looking for his own
good or anyone else’s. How was a girl supposed to keep her cool around him?

She wished she could give her dad some money and he could buy
himself a new factory. Then she wouldn’t have to worry about getting the old one
back from James. Her dad wouldn’t take money. She knew it. He’d be angry and
feel as if she was lording it over him. He was proud to a fault, and then some.
She didn’t care though. It just made her want to try harder to make him happy.
She was proud, too, one of the many traits she’d inherited from him.

Which made it rather awkward to stand here wrapped in James
Drummond’s powerful arms. She wondered if anyone had ever kissed their enemy
before in this very room.

Quite probably. “What does the future hold?” She looked into
his face, which wasn’t easy since he was more than half a head taller than
her.