Blood Sin (8 page)

Since he’d left Elizabeth in her own room—next door to his—to bathe and dress before dinner, he set off to explore on his own. Leaving the upper floors, which seemed to be devoted to bedrooms, he confined himself to the bottom two levels, where the public rooms were located, and found nothing to dissuade him from his new fantasy of becoming a Scottish laird.

Wandering into a dim room with the curtains drawn, no doubt to protect the green baize of the huge snooker table that filled most of it, he idly lifted a cue and cast an admiring eye over the paneled ceiling and walls before his gaze came to rest on an elegant chaise longue and its occupant.

He thought at first that the man was asleep, he lay so still. He wore dark chinos and a cream shirt that was probably silk, open at the throat. With the envy of a man approaching middle age and his constant battle with weight already begun, Josh acknowledged that the young stranger had not one ounce of spare fat. And yet not even the unkind could call him scrawny. Beneath the casually pulled-up sleeves lay muscle and sinew. His stomach was flat, his chest and shoulders broad. Strength was obvious in the pale column of his throat, in the set of his slightly pointed chin.

In fact, the stranger was a handsome devil whatever way you looked at him. Long, unruly black hair fell half across a face that was just about as attractive as it could be without detracting from its undeniable maleness. Cheekbones an actor would die for. A nose that might have been a little too prominent for classical perfection lent him an attractively predatory air that must have had women throwing themselves at his feet. Long, thick lashes curled away from eyes that, in the dim light, were so dark that they looked black. And, of course, they were regarding him with interest.

In spite of himself, Josh’s stomach gave a jolt that might have been guilt or just surprise, but at least he didn’t jump.

“Hello.” The stranger’s voice was deep, low, well modulated, reminding Josh of someone or something elusive.

“Hello,” Josh returned. “Sorry, didn’t mean to disturb your sleep.”

“I wasn’t asleep, merely meditating.” Though his English was perfectly enunciated, Josh guessed it wasn’t his first language.

Josh grinned. “Yeah. That’s what my dad used to say too—when I interrupted his snoring.”

The stranger sat up in one enviably graceful movement, swinging his legs down to the polished wood floor. His feet, long and slim, were bare. “Flattered as I am by any resemblance you perceive to your esteemed parent, I feel compelled to point out that I was not snoring.”

Josh laughed and took a step nearer to offer his hand. “I’m Josh Alexander.”

The stranger rose to his feet, which made him several inches taller than Josh, taking Josh’s outthrust hand in a firm, cold grip.

Unexpectedly, Josh shivered, as if someone had walked over his grave. The stranger had intense, almost opaque dark eyes, and yet as Josh gazed into them, strange lights like yellow flames seemed to dance in their blackness—a bizarre fantasy, and even so, Josh couldn’t lose the feeling that he already knew this man. Despite the fact that he clearly wasn’t someone one could easily forget.

“Adam Simon,” the exotic stranger said.

Adam Simon, whom Dante wanted him to court. It was a surprise. The man looked less like a businessman than a rock star not yet completely given over to the debauchery of drink and drugs.

Adam Simon broke the handshake first. Josh had to restrain himself from rubbing his hands together for warmth. Regarding his “target” with increased interest, he remarked, “Pleased to meet you. The senator told me you were coming. I hear you’re setting the world of international business alight.”

“The senator is a very interesting man,” Simon observed. His gaze dropped briefly to the region of Josh’s throat and rose again to his face. “As are you.”

It came again, a twinge of unease mixed with a recognition that was almost . . . attraction. Shaking it off with a laugh, Josh said, “Interesting? Hardly! I merely act out other people’s fantasies. They’re the creative ones.”

“Always so modest, Josh!” Senator Dante said, bustling into the room. Josh didn’t know whether he felt more relieved or annoyed by this interruption to his odd tête-à-tête. “You guys want to play?”

“You
know
how to play this ridiculous game?” Josh joked.

“Sure, it’s just like pool, only more complicated. I’ll teach you.”

“Maybe later,” Josh said easily. “I’d better make sure Elizabeth’s all right. My cousin,” he added to Simon, who merely bowed politely, although his steady gaze never left Josh’s face.

“Delightful girl,” Dante approved. “Adam, want to play before dinner?”

Josh didn’t wait to hear the reply. Over the years he had learned to accept most people and find a level on which to feel at ease with them. But it had been a long time since someone had inspired such strongly conflicting emotions in him as Adam Simon did. At once intrigued, attracted, and repelled by the strength of the personality that leapt out of Simon’s handsome face, Josh wanted to know more and yet felt some kind of relief when he finally left the room.

As he ran lightly up the stairs to his own bedroom, it entered his head that Dante might finally have met his match, and the thought amused him so much, he began to laugh.

In spite of her knowledge that there were so many other vastly more important matters in the world, Elizabeth couldn’t quite rid herself of the uncomfortable butterflies that seemed to have lodged at the pit of her stomach.

“Are you sure this is right?” she asked Josh, stepping out of the bathroom to examine herself by a different light in the bedroom mirror.

Josh, sprawled at ease on her bed, glanced up from the society magazine he was idly thumbing through and sat up, still staring. He looked very handsome and angelic in a cream dinner jacket with matching silk shirt and bow tie. “Wow, you look fantastic!”

Elizabeth flushed, noting the surprise as much as the sincerity of his comment. She wore the evening gown she’d bought for the graduation ball and had tied her hair up behind her head in a style she knew suited her, but otherwise, she felt she looked as she always did—except for the added discomfort.

“I feel overdressed for dinner,” she confessed.

“Trust me, in this company, you won’t be.”

“You’re not making me feel any better! Who’s here, anyway? Apart from Jerri Cusack and this Simon person you’re meant to impress?”

“I met him,” Josh volunteered. “Adam Simon. Asleep in the snooker room. Not at all what I expected.”

“Stuffed shirt?” Elizabeth inquired, delving in her semiunpacked bag for the necklace that was the only decent jewelry she possessed.

“The opposite,” Josh said. “He reminded me more of a rock star, but not quite so wasted. He’s kind of charming—doesn’t take himself too seriously, although I have the feeling he makes sure others don’t make that mistake! Anyway, he’s a handsome devil—I doubt you’ll find it a chore to talk to him. In fact, I’ll probably be jealous.”

“No point,” Elizabeth said without thinking. She was concentrating on fastening the tiny clasp of the necklace behind her neck.

Josh met her gaze quizzically in the mirror. “Is that a put-down or a compliment?”

“Neither.” Elizabeth hesitated, then turned to face him. “I feel stupid saying this to you, but you don’t need to pretend. I’m well aware there’s no chance of romance between us.”

Josh stood up. “Who says I’m pretending?”

It seemed he was too honest to take the ego-preserving way out she’d just given him. Which was frustrating, yet made her all the sorrier she couldn’t fall in love with him like any normal woman would.

Josh said quietly, “There’s an empathy between us that’s rare. You must feel it too. I know you like me.”

“I do,” Elizabeth admitted. “I think the empathy’s to do with our shared heritage. Blood really is thicker than water. For the rest, I
do
like you as a friend, a friend I’d hate to see come to harm.”

A quick frown formed and vanished on his face. “Harm. That’s why you agreed to come. I didn’t believe you when you told me that. How egocentric is the human male.”

Uncomfortable, Elizabeth looked away.

But Josh only took her hand and swung it lightly in the air without obvious resentment. “It’s the man who gave you the cloak, isn’t it?”

Elizabeth’s stomach jolted. “What?”

“He’s the reason you reject romance with me or anyone else. And I think that whatever happened with him is the source of the grief I sensed in you when we first met.”

Elizabeth swallowed. “Partly. One grief, perhaps. But I prefer to think of it as the source of my strength.” She gave a quick, awkward smile to banish any pathos, and walked toward the door. “You’re bloody perceptive, aren’t you, Josh?”

“I’m good at faces. And yours, when you touched the cloak, was an open book.”

Elizabeth paused, stricken. How could she regard herself as strong when she gave so much away so easily?

“Hey, your secret’s safe with me,” Josh said, reaching past her to grasp the door handle. “And don’t be uncomfortable. I don’t need a crazy woman in my bed anyway.”

Elizabeth couldn’t help laughing, as she was meant to. She felt a renewed rush of liking for Josh.

“Um, one more thing before we go down for drinks,” he said. “Jerri Cusack, my costar in the new movie. Don’t be upset if she’s a little . . . odd.”

Elizabeth scanned his face for clues. There was a rueful twinkle in his eyes.

“She might think you’re my date,” Josh explained. “And she won’t like that.”

Elizabeth’s spirits fell further. “Oh, bugger. Are you and she . . . ?” “No, no, but she thinks it would be good publicity if we were, and she doesn’t like being thwarted.”

“So she’ll hate my guts.” Elizabeth held up her hand to count points off on her fingers. “Okay, I have to avoid Jerri Cusack and seek out Adam Simon. Anything else?”

“Just enjoy yourself,” said Josh blithely.

“Ha,” Elizabeth returned without gratitude, and, laughing, Josh opened the door.

As they descended the staircase, sounds of lively jazz music and the buzz of many-voiced chatter and laughter drifted up to them.

“Seriously,” Josh murmured. “Dante’s parties are always fun. None of the other stuff really matters. Everyone will be nice.”

Which might have been his way of saying that however much Jerri hated her presence, she wouldn’t get too nasty. Elizabeth didn’t really care. She’d met a lot nastier creatures than bitchy movie stars. Squaring her shoulders, she concentrated on getting through the evening as pleasantly as possible, and hoped for a few opportunities for a friendly tête-à-tête with Josh. By the time the party ended, she was determined to have convinced him of his danger, and his option of hunter protection.

As they entered the big, impressive drawing room where predinner drinks were being served, Elizabeth’s first thought was that it wasn’t as bad as she’d expected. There weren’t as many people as she’d feared, maybe around twenty. The men all wore formal evening clothes, some traditional black-tie, some a bit more individualistic. The women wore formal dresses too, of all lengths and levels of daringness. Elizabeth allowed herself a quick sigh of relief that her own gown did indeed suit the occasion, and then she noticed that despite the formality of the dress, the guests themselves didn’t seem to be in the least stuffy. Several looked over and smiled. Some actually waved, and one man called out, “Hey, Josh!” from the other side of the room.

And then Dante, standing just inside the doorway with a group of traditionally garbed men, welcomed them with a big smile. An instant later, a waiter was before them with a tray of drinks. Elizabeth took a glass of champagne while Dante introduced the men around him. Their names passed right over her, although she smiled and shook hands with each.

“These guys are all expert antiquarians,” he explained. “I was telling them about your sword, Josh, and how you’d be glad for them to take a look.”

“Sounds a most interesting piece,” one of the men said. He was American. “How long has it been in your family?”

“Hundreds of years, so I’m told.” Josh sipped his champagne.

“And do you have documents to show its provenance?” asked another, with a definitely English accent.

“Nope. Just the sword. I’ll show it to you after dinner if you like. Just don’t let the senator convince you I’m prepared to sell it, because I’m not!”

“Whatever the price?” one of the men joked.

“Whatever the price,” Josh agreed.

If it really was Saloman’s missing sword, the price was probably rather higher than they knew. Elizabeth said lightly, “May I see this amazing sword too?”

“Of course,” Josh agreed at once, explaining to the others, “Elizabeth’s a historian, so she might well have some valuable knowledge.”

“How come you’ve never tried to find out about it before?” Elizabeth asked, curious.

Josh shrugged. “Never really thought about it, because it was always around when I was growing up. Just recently I’ve become more . . . intrigued by it. No doubt because of the senator’s interest!”

Dante laughed and toasted Josh with his champagne. Over the top of his glass, his piercing blue eyes twinkled, and yet Elizabeth caught a hint of hardness there that might have been acquisitiveness or distrust. Possibly the latter, because for the first time since she’d met him, she had the uncomfortable feeling that Josh wasn’t telling the entire truth. She began to wonder whether there was more to his relationship with Dante than he’d let on.

“So, are you gentlemen all in the antiques trade?” Josh inquired. “Or are you just enthusiastic amateurs?”

“I have an auction house and Bill here owns a chain of shops,” the Englishman volunteered. “But for most of us the interest is pleasure rather than business.”

Elizabeth let her gaze wander away from the antiquarians and around the other guests, who all looked in good spirits. She spotted Jerri Cusack, stunningly glamorous in a risqué white dress, laughing up at a tall, black-haired man—with his back to Elizabeth—whose arm she playfully shook. The woman on his other side didn’t seem very pleased, judging by her rigid body language, although she kept smiling.