“Boethius, Chaucer, Marlowe.” She breathed the great names reverently; her fingertips hovering just above the leather as if she didn’t dare touch the books. “I’ve never seen anything like this outside of a museum, Erasmus.”
He chuckled. “One must acquire a handful of items printed before 1500, of course, if one is to have a respectable library. I confess I’m still working on that portion of my collection.”
“But to have so many fine examples,” Mercy said with a slight shake of her head. “It’s mind-boggling.”
“Money overcomes many obstacles in the auction rooms, my dear. Personally, I’m more pleased with my first edition of Darwin’s On the Origin of Species than I am with my Chaucer. It was very difficult to find the Darwin, you know; even though it was printed in 1859 and is therefore relatively new.” He crossed the room to another shelf. “Over here I have some rather interesting Henry Fieldings, including an original 1749 set of the six volumes of Tom Jones. I was also lucky enough recently to pick up the first two volumes of Richardson’s Pamela. They’re dated 1741.”
“I’d kill to get my hands on either the Fielding or the Richardson.”
Gladstone smiled approvingly. “I like a bookseller with enthusiasm. We will come down here again before you leave and discuss which of the books you would like to take back with you as part of the price of Valley.”
“You’re much too generous.” Mercy was obviously shocked. “I couldn’t possibly take any of these. Not in addition to what you’ve already paid me.”
“In the world of book collecting everything is relative. Valley was almost unobtainable and I wanted it very badly I have been chasing it for some time. I’m feeling generous because you have given me something I might not otherwise have been able to locate.”
Mercy’s smile was a little shaky. “I’m overwhelmed.”
“Let’s put Valley in its proper place. I keep my collection of erotica over here.” Gladstone went to the far end of the room where a small row of volumes was set apart from the rest. They appeared to be in more tattered shape than their more respectable comrades. “I thank you, Mercy Pennington, for enabling me to add Burleigh’s fascinating work to my library. This is a very satisfying moment for me.” He eased the book carefully onto the shelf. He stood looking at it for a long moment. When he turned around, Gladstone was smiling broadly, his unusual blue eyes alive with pleasure. Something about him radiated that pleasure outward, involving others to join in his happiness.
The man definitely had a charismatic charm, Croft thought wryly. From all reports, so had Egan Graves.
“We should return to our drinks, Erasmus.” Isobel spoke quietly from the doorway. “Lance has dinner scheduled for seven.”
“By all means.” Gladstone moved forward, graciously taking Mercy’s arm. “Don’t worry, my dear. You will have ample opportunity to spend time in my library while you’re here. But now I believe Isobel is right. We had best go back upstairs. This is going to be a lively few days for us. Has Isobel mentioned the small party we’re giving tomorrow night in honor of my success in finding Valley?”
Croft was thinking that he needed more time in the vault to study its contents. The quick scan he’d just gotten wasn’t sufficient. He caught Gladstone’s question just as he stepped through the vault door. “A party? Here?”
“We entertain very little. As you can imagine, it’s rather complicated,” Gladstone said genially as he escorted Mercy through the door and turned to seal the vault. “It requires much planning. But I’m afraid I have become something of a patron for a colony of rather talented young artists located about twenty miles from here. Once a year I have them in for an evening. Artists can be such interesting acquaintances as long as one doesn’t have to deal with them on a day-to-day basis. Very temperamental people, I’m afraid. Perhaps it goes with the talent. This year you’ll be here for the event. I hope you enjoy it.”
Croft glanced at Mercy and saw the dazzled expression in her eyes. He felt a surge of anger which he quickly suppressed. It was obvious she had never met anyone like Erasmus Gladstone and she was more than willing to be charmed.
Croft knew he was going to have to take steps to make certain Mercy didn’t fall under Gladstone’s spell.
Tonight, Croft decided, Mercy wasn’t going to sleep alone. It was time to reinforce the bonds that had been established the night he had made her his.
Chapter 9
Mercy was aware of Croft’s presence the moment he entered the bedroom that night. He made no sound, but some anticipatory instinct made her open her eyes and turn her head on the pillow. She saw him silhouetted in the open doorway between the two suites, a dark shadow among even darker shadows. She knew then that she had been waiting for him.
The door between the suites had been closed until Croft had silently opened it a few seconds before. She had closed it deliberately after preparing for bed. Croft had been in the bathroom at the time. When he had emerged a few minutes later he had made no immediate attempt to eradicate the poor barrier.
Mercy had lain awake for a long while expecting to have her privacy rudely invaded. She had seen the calculating expression in Croft’s eyes during dinner. He had watched her laugh and talk with Gladstone, saying little himself, but making his masculine disapproval clear in subtle ways Mercy hadn’t missed. Their hosts might not have noticed the dangerously remote quality of his gaze, but it had burned Mercy’s nerve endings.
Croft was either a little jealous of Gladstone or very annoyed with Mercy for haying found Gladstone unthreatening. Of the two she had enough common sense to guess the latter was the case. Somehow, she didn’t see Croft giving into any emotion as primitive as jealousy. But whatever the reason, Mercy had expected to find herself on the defensive later.
But there had been no sizzling lectures in the bathroom with the shower running to cover Croft’s words. And when she had calmly closed the door between the two rooms later, he hadn’t kicked it open. Mercy had crawled into bed and waited, but eventually the sense of wary expectation gave way to drowsiness. She didn’t know how long she had been asleep, but when she opened her eyes in darkness she knew she was no longer alone.
She watched him leave the doorway and glide soundlessly toward the bed. It wasn’t fair that the man could move like a ghost. What he did to her nerves wasn’t fair, either. She could feel heat in her veins and told herself she would not let him sweep her away as he had the other night.
Mercy didn’t kid herself. She knew what was behind his presence in her room. He wasn’t motivated by an uncontrollable desire, overriding passion or undying love. As far as Croft was concerned, he was on a job. He viewed Mercy’s enjoyment of Erasmus Gladstone’s company as a potential threat to the completion of his mission. He probably feared she was being charmed by Gladstone. Croft was going to reestablish the claim he thought he had on her. He wanted to be very certain she knew where her loyalties lay.
She could tell him he had nothing to worry about, Mercy thought as Croft came through the darkness toward her. She could try reassuring him that she was keeping an open mind about Gladstone. But that sort of conversation was difficult to have when she had to watch every word out of fear of a hidden microphone in the bed.
Croft stopped beside the bed and looked down at her. He was wearing only his briefs. It wasn’t difficult to tell that he was already partially aroused. His hazel eyes were devoid of color in the shadows, but Mercy could see the catlike gleam in them.
“Croft,” she managed throatily, aware of the tension that was filling the atmosphere around them. It was time to talk. She had better do it quickly. “The bathroom—”
“No.” His voice was a whisper of rough velvet. He put one knee on the bed and reached out to stroke her shoulder. The bed gave beneath his weight. “There’s no need to talk. Not now.”
She read his intent and her tension flared into a strange anger. She rolled
out from under his hand, rising to her knees on the far side of the bed. Her breath came quickly as she faced him.
“Come here, Mercy. You know you want me. I can make you want me.”
“Who the hell do you think you are to walk into my bedroom like this and try to seduce me? I’m not a convenience for you, Croft.” Her own voice was just as low as his, a soft hiss of feminine challenge. The battle was to be conducted in whispers, it seemed.
“You know you don’t want to fight me, honey. You want to feel what you felt the other night in my arms. You want to give yourself to me.”
“Is that right? What are you? The all knowing, wise male who thinks he knows exactly what women really want? I’ve got a much harder question for you, Croft. What do you want?”
“That’s not a tough question. I want to be inside you. I want to feel you wrapped around me, shivering with your pleasure. I want to know exactly how much you need me.”
“I don’t need you any more than you need me.” She didn’t know whether she had meant the words as a plea for reassurance or as a defiant challenge. They sounded like a challenge.
“Come close and we’ll find out how much we want each other.” There was soft satisfaction in his voice.
“I won’t let you do it, you know. I refuse to go to bed with you while you’re in this mood. You’re nothing more than a cold-blooded male on the prowl tonight. You’re only intent on proving to yourself and to me that you can control me in bed and I won’t have it. You got away with the heavy-handed seduction routine that first night, Croft, but it won’t happen again.”
“Heavy-handed?”
“Well, you have to admit it was very deliberate. You seduced me as part of your—” She saw his eyes narrow. Belatedly she remembered the warning about watching her conversation in the bedroom. Mercy didn’t believe for one minute that Gladstone was a crook or that there were secret microphones in the room, but she had given Croft her word that she would be careful. “It was a deliberate act of seduction. There was no love involved, was there?”
“I wanted you very badly the other night. I want you even more tonight. If that seems like deliberate, heavy-handed seduction to you, then I can’t argue. When it comes to emotional interpretations, everything’s relative, especially for a woman. But I think you’re being unfair to me and yourself to label our lovemaking that way. There are a hundred different avenues for desire. Most of them don’t have names.”
“Don’t bother using any of your fancy philosophical logic on me. Not on this particular subject. I don’t think you’re any kind of expert, and I won’t let you trip me up with your crazy reasoning tonight. I have to draw the line somewhere. I won’t let you manipulate me.”
“Easy, Mercy. Just relax and come here to me.”
She leaped off the bed, sensing a slight change in the way he was balancing himself. “Stay right where you are. Don’t you dare use any of your…your tricks on me.”
His eyes gleamed in the shadows. The starlight that poured through the window provided just enough illumination to define the unyielding set of his jaw and the sleek contours of his shoulders. He had no trouble following her movements. Just as Mercy had known from the first, Croft was very much at home in the darkness.
As she bounced to her feet, Croft slowly stood up on the other side. He started to circle the bed, coming toward her with smooth, pacing strides.
“You’re the one using tricks tonight, sweetheart. What game are you playing with me? I think it was a mistake to let you sleep alone last night.”
She backed away from him. I chose to sleep alone last night and I choose to sleep alone tonight.”
“In a few minutes you’ll change your mind.”
“You talk about me playing games, but you’re the one who plays them. That’s exactly what you’re doing with our relationship. You’re toying with it the way a cat toys with a mouse, using it for your own advantage.”
He grinned briefly. “You’re not much of a mouse, sweetheart.”
“I’m not joking, Croft.”
“Neither am I. So let’s stop talking about our ‘relationship’ and start talking about us. You and me.”
He was very close now. Mercy risked a quick glance over her shoulder and found she was less than two feet from the wall. There was no more room to run. She looked back at Croft, tried to gauge the distance as best she could, then dove wildly past him.
“Damn it, Mercy!”
For the first time that evening Mercy heard some genuine emotion in his voice. Unfortunately, that emotion was chiefly frustration and annoyance. She couldn’t even take minimal satisfaction from it because his arm was suddenly in the middle of her flight path, coiling around her and whirling her gently to an abrupt halt. Mercy came up against Croft’s chest with a silent thud and found her face pressed into his bare shoulder. The warm, sexy scent of him assailed her nostrils.
“Let me go.” The words were muffled against his skin.
“Not yet, sweetheart.” He started to fold her closer. “Not for a long time.”
Mercy felt his other arm around her, locking her to him. She reacted instinctively, driving her small fist into his ribs. It felt as though she had struck a solid wall, but she had the satisfaction of hearing Croft’s sharp intake of breath. His grip loosened slightly and Mercy danced back out of reach. A new kind of excitement washed over her.
He wasn’t invincible.
“So, you’re not all that tough, after all, are you?” Her mood was shifting with a rapidity that left her feeling euphoric. A wave of adrenaline seemed to have unleashed itself in her bloodstream. Mercy found herself enjoying a heady sensation of power. “I warned you not to use your clever little tricks on me. I took a class in self-defense once.”
“Is that right?”
“Damn right.” She edged a few more steps away from him. The class in self-defense had been a three-hour seminar conducted by a policewoman the library had hired to instruct female employees in certain emergency measures. It had been over two years since she had had the class and Mercy was realistic enough to assume she shouldn’t push her luck too far.
“Are you sure you want to turn this into a battle, Mercy?”
“What I’m sure of is that I want you to go back to your room and leave me in peace.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Try.”
“And leave you here by yourself to think about what a charming, educated, cosmopolitan man Erasmus Gladstone is? Not a chance. I want you to think about me tonight, Mercy.”
She felt her breath catch in her throat. “Are you jealous, by any chance?”
His eyes were fathomless. “Is that what you want? Is that why you were hanging on Gladstone’s every word tonight? Did you want to see if you could whip up a little jealousy?”
“Not much chance of that, is there?” she shot back, goaded to a rashness she knew she would probably regret. “You’ve got too much cold blood in your veins.”
Something flashed in his gaze, and in spite of the precarious position in which she found herself, Mercy felt a flicker of triumph. It was dangerous to prod Croft Falconer, but at times it seemed the only way to find out what lay beneath the cool, totally controlled surface of the man.
“Maybe what I need is some of your warmth to take the chill off, Mercy.”
He flowed toward her without any warning, his hand snapping out to catch her by the nape of the neck even as she tried frantically to duck back out of the way.
“Damn it, Croft,” she hissed, “I’m not going to make this easy for you.” She brought her hands up quickly in an attempt to break his hold and shoved against the wall of his chest. When nothing happened, Mercy used both hands to try to dislodge the gentle grip on her nape.
He was drawing her inexorably toward the bed. She tried another rib punch, aware that she was severely hampered in the conflict b
ecause she didn’t really want to hurt Croft. The knee-to-the-groin routine and the finger-in-the-eye bit were definitely off-limits.
She wasn’t fighting for her life or her honor. She was just trying to make one very thickheaded man aware of her on a vital level. She would force him to be just as emotionally involved with her as she was with him even if it meant a knock-down, drag-out battle royale.
Croft didn’t seem to notice her side punch, but he must have felt her heel when she brought it down fiercely on his bare toes because he reacted immediately. He swore, something very short and very crude. Mercy had never heard him use the word before. He used his convenient grip on the nape of her neck to yank her off his foot and then he gave her a small shake.
“You little witch. I ought to turn you over my knee.” Mercy gave him a fierce, reckless smile that showed all her fine white teeth. “I think I read something about that technique in Valley of Secret Jewels. Does it work?”
“Use your heel on my toes again and we’ll find out.”
“Let go of me, Croft. I won’t be dragged off to bed like this.”
It seems to be the only way to get you there.”
She didn’t use her heel this time, she used her whole foot. Mercy hooked it around his ankle and tugged violently. Croft didn’t lose his balance, but he finally lost his temper.
“That does it,” he said between clenched teeth. “If you want to do this the hard way, we’ll do it the hard way.” He swung her off her feet and into his arms, ignoring her wriggling, twisting efforts to free herself.
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