“Mm hm. You don’t want to know anything else, Sam? Not even a rumor about a privately-owned Rembrandt living with the descendants of a Nazi officer, and the other guy who might pay two million to get his hands on it?”
Well, that pulled at something deep in her chest. “I always like hearing interesting things. Especially things about removing ill-gotten possessions from former Nazi households. But that doesn’t mean I’ll do anything with that information.”
“I’m always happy to share a little gossip with my girl.”
He looked kind of smug, but since she’d dragged him all the way to Scotland she figured she could afford to give him a little hope. But taking on a job with or through Stoney would entail breaking laws and adding time to her statute of limitations counter. It would also mean the end of her and Rick. There would be no way she would risk involving him, and no way she would risk losing him.
The thing she was doing right now, though, didn’t count. If there was a highwayman’s treasure the original statute of limitations on the thefts had run out a long time ago, and at this moment she was just unraveling strings of a big knot. She hadn’t decided what to do it she did figure it out, and if there was treasure.
She finished going through the book and then the last two she’d recovered. Now she had some good, multi-sourced info that would help her shrink those circles on her map. Old tales, told and retold until they finally ended up in a couple of different local lore books. Little bits picked up or left out according to the author’s preferences. Taken all together, they told the semi-factual tale of a guy’s life. For her they also told where Will Dawkin hadn’t been, which roads he didn’t lie in wait along, which places he was more frequently and most rarely seen. Those holes, the places avoided, meant different things to her than to most other people. The tale between the lines, she’d always called it. They told their own story, and it was the kind of tale she really liked reading.
Once she got the books back into their moldy hat box, it would be time for boots on the ground. Given the sound of Noah’s flood currently pounding the roof just above her head, that could take a few days, but at least now she had a pretty good idea that this treasure was real – whatever Rick wanted her to think.
Reggie and Norway were still fixated on finding the old map that had somehow ended up in Rick’s possession. Since she’d made her own map, that put her several days ahead of the amateurs. Hell, she would have been embarrassed otherwise. Even if she usually knew an item’s location and only needed to figure out a way to get to it and out again, this whole thing was kind of her area of expertise. Rick should have realized that. Then maybe he would have decided just to tell her what was going on. Well, if finding out on her own was the only way to solve the puzzle, she was well on her way.
“Since you won’t eat with the group,” she said aloud, bundling the highwayman books in a jacket so she could smuggle them back to her room, “will you come down to the dining room about eight so we can premiere the spook show?”
“I’d be more inclined if you would tell me why you’re trying so hard to impress them.”
Impress them? That was so far from her thinking that it took her a second to catch up. “I asked for this gear so I could do some digging into some dark holes. I used it to spy on Rick’s cousin about a treasure. I told them it was for ghost hunting, so I need to show them ghost stuff. Plus, maybe the things we found will scare the piss out of Reggie and the Viking and make them hesitate to go exploring, so I can maybe figure out where the loot is before they do. Really, Stoney. Sometimes you just don’t get me at all.”
He grimaced. “I started not getting you a year ago. And no, I don’t think staying in our business is the best way for you to stay alive. I also don’t think trading it all in for a rich, high-profile guy who collects the same kind of things you steal is—”
“Used to steal,” she corrected.
“Fine, ‘used to steal’, is the best way for you to live a long, healthy, and jail-free life.” Stoney paused to wind up the headphone cord. “I do, however, kind of like the plan to slow these guys down. Who knows, after tonight they might just run away back to their own castles and leave you and Addison alone.”
There seemed to be more than just a general dislike of snobbery going on here, but then Stoney had to have seen the part of the recording where Reggie and Norway called her rude. Since he’d been the one to help teach her to fit in to whichever social circle got between her and her target, that probably hadn’t gone over very well.
As they left the attic she heard Rick’s voice in the library. Perfect. “Okay, you go down and tell the butler, Yule, that you need a room,” she said to Stoney. “I’ll go and put these back.” She hefted the bundle of books.
“’The butler’. Okay Lady Rawley.”
Cripes. That was – would be – her. “Not yet,” she countered. “And don’t pretend that you wouldn’t totally have a butler if you had room for one. Get going.”
Once Stoney headed toward the front stairs, Samantha turned the other direction. Sneaking books back into a room – her room – seemed silly, but Rick had started this game. So yeah, she kind of wanted to find the treasure without him being able to figure out how she’d done it.
At least this time she could just pick up the hat boxes instead of dumping them over. They all still stank of mildew, but hopefully Rick wouldn’t leave the books hidden there long enough to let them get ruined. Once she’d stacked the boxes back in their original, semi-precarious position, she closed the dressing room door and returned to the main part of the bedchamber.
She went into the little bathroom with the broken shower and washed the mildew smell off her hands, then nearly peed her pants as she left the loo and looked up to see two figures standing just inside the bedroom door. “I’m glad we’re getting along and all,” she said, putting her hands on her hips, “but you really should knock first.”
“We did,” Norway stated, flipping her Scandinavian locks back over one shoulder. “We wanted a word with you. I mean, Reginald wanted a word with you.”
Yeah, because Reggie was so clearly the brains of the outfit. “Okay, what is it, then?”
Reggie cleared his throat. “You said your expertise – your job, as it were – is finding valuable stolen or misplaced items.”
“That’s true. For museums and galleries, usually. Why?”
“I, um, don’t know if Ricky’s said anything to you about a disagreement we’re having, but the crux of it is there’s a legend that a highwayman, Will Dawkin, lived in this area, and that he hid a substantial amount of – what do you Americans call it? – loot, nearby. Ricky says it’s fiction, but I disagree. I’d like to hire you to help me – us – find it.”
Well, shit. Now she would look like a total bitch when she came up with the loot on her own. Or she could team up with them, which would be stupid if for no other reason than that they didn’t have a clue, plus Rick would feel betrayed, and he would be right. So bitch column A it was. “I’ve overheard enough to know that whatever’s going on with this, Rick thinks it’s a bad idea to look for it. I’m engaged to Rick. So my answer is no.”
“You’re not interested in taking his royal highness down a peg or two and earning ten thousand pounds in the process?” Reggie insisted, his face getting red in the cheeks and earlobes.
It was true that museums didn’t pay as well as most of her old clients, but in her heyday ten thousand bucks wouldn’t have been enough to get her up in the morning. Yeah, once she’d gone looking for an anatomical dummy on behalf of a sixth grader for a lot less, but that had been both a worthy cause and Donner’s daughter who’d done the asking. These two weren’t nearly as compelling. Or as cute.
“Seriously?” she said aloud. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t agree to marry someone because I think he’s too stuffy and needs to be taught a lesson. No, I’m not going to help you embarrass Rick. Not for any amount of money.”
“That’s fine,” Eerika sai
d, taking Reggie’s arm. “Don’t get in our way when we find the treasure, then. And don’t expect that we’ll include you in any publicity, either.”
“I have no problem with that. I’ll even wish you luck. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to change my shirt. I got kind of dirty.” Not really, but it was the politest way to get rid of them that she could think of.
Norway shot a look at Reggie. “Let’s go, then. There’s no sense in trying to reason with her.”
Oh, Samantha recognized that look. The Scandinavian wench couldn’t conceive of anybody turning down money, so she’d concluded that Sam knew something already – and that it must be close by and well-protected, because no one in their right mind would risk losing it. “Go ahead and tear through the attic, guys,” she said. “Just keep in mind that some of the stuff I’m cataloguing is really old and delicate and valuable, and that it all belongs to Rick.”
Her maps were up there, too, but she seriously doubted either of the Inspector Clouseaus here would be able to locate them. They scampered out anyway, and she pulled off her top to trade it for her pink Godzilla T-shirt. As she pulled it over her head, the door shoved open again. Man, when had she suddenly become so popular? Samantha peered through one armhole to see Rick glaring at her.
“What now?” she asked, finding the second arm and pulling Godzilla down over her chest.
“What did Reg want in here?”
“First, none of your business. Second, rude much? And third, they wanted to hire me to find your stupid highwayman treasure. I said no, and now I probably won’t be invited to Christmas dinner at their place. Have fun without me.”
Caribbean blue eyes narrowed as he processed all that. As she expected, it only took him a couple of seconds. “How much did he offer you?”
“Ten thousand pounds.”
His mouth twitched. “That must have felt a bit insulting.”
And the room began to fill with air again. Whoosh. She flashed a smile. “You know it.”
He walked over to the bed and flopped onto his back, laughing. “I’ve been considering gifting him with a million or so, just because he’s my cousin and I can afford it.” He flung his arms up over his head. “And in exchange for him leaving the local scenery in peace. I’m rather fond of it.”
“Except if you give him a million that’ll probably convince him that you’re hoarding a treasure worth ten times that amount.” She wasn’t so sure this was about money, anyway. Eerika wanted the fame and publicity, but Reggie… That was more complicated.
Richard lifted his head, looked at her, then let it fall back again. “Do you think I’m hoarding a ten-million-dollar treasure?”
She’d been running that scenario through her head for the last few days. “No. But I think you know way more than you’re letting on. I don’t care what you do or don’t tell Reggie, but I’m giving you fair warning that I mean to put you in a position where you have to tell me.”
“And what position is that?”
With his arms extended above his head like that, the dark gray sweatshirt he’d donned had lifted to expose his stomach and half of his six-pack. He looked totally edible, and he knew it. And there she stood, wearing Spanx beneath her jeans and still a little chafed between the thighs. “Is this just to distract me so I’ll stop bugging you for answers?”
“In a word, yes.”
“Ah.” That annoyed her. She wasn’t supposed to keep any secrets from him, but he was okay with keeping stuff from her even when she asked. She took another nice, long view of him stretched out on the thick quilt, then turned around. “Okay. I’ll see you at dinner.”
“Sam.”
Before she could change her mind, she rampaged out the door and closed it firmly behind her. Then she headed up the hallway. She’d probably pay for that later, but she liked doing that. For now, she had a couple of things to do, and sex with Rick would mess up her schedule.
The door opened behind her. “Samantha.”
“Forget it, Romeo. You can’t orgasm me into forgetting that you’re the one who’s keeping secrets when I’m not allowed to have a single conversation without you jumping in like Tarzan.”
His hand clamped down on her shoulder. He was frustrated too, then. Good. She lifted her chin as she faced him, meeting his narrowed gaze and making it clear as she could that she was not the party that needed to apologize here.
“I’ve just spent two days in a Scottish pub arguing with a Japanese ex-Yakuza about a game where kids play hockey to earn points to purchase ladder rungs. You’re still more difficult to untangle.”
“Yeah, well, thanks for saying so.” Samantha gestured up the hallway toward the attic stairs. “Things to do. That way.”
Rick grimaced. “Clearly I’ve gone about this the wrong way.” Shifting his grip to her hand, he towed her toward the old conservatory at the end of the hall. “Come with me.”
It had once been full of tropical plants, or so she assumed from the number of parrot statues and paintings that were scattered across pedestals and around the walls, but now it was just those and empty pots placed around the floor, and a stone bench with a view of both the room and the storm outside.
“Okay, we’re private,” she stated, jerking free of his grip. “But if you’re going to tell me you have another wife locked up in a room somewhere, I’m jumping out the window.”
He paused, taking a belated look around the room. “This place is rather Jane Eyre, isn’t it? I hadn’t thought of it that way before. But no, no wives but Patricia.”
“She’s more than enough, thanks.”
Rick rubbed his hands together, a surprising show of hesitation for him. “Okay. If there was something to the highwayman legend, which I’m not saying there is, it wouldn’t be my secret to tell. I would, however, very much prefer that Reg not find anything – if there is anything to find.”
“And me?”
“I trust you. I don’t trust Walter or anyone who might be following whatever path you are or aren’t digging into.”
That sounded nice, but it wasn’t very helpful. “I have this weird feeling that you want me to figure out what’s going on so I’ll know without you having to tell me.”
His frown eased a little. “My biggest preference would be for everyone to stay well clear of things which could potentially be extremely inconvenient and troublesome. If there was anything going on.”
“Yeah, good luck with that. Why don’t you just cancel vacation and send everyone home?”
“I thought about it. But I’d forgotten how much I like it here. If I’m not mistaken, you like it here, too. Even if I did abandon it again, I doubt Reg will give this up. It’s remote, but there are a plentitude of ways onto the property.” He sighed. “It would have been smarter never to come back in the first place, but I had no idea Reg had been stewing about that damned map for eighteen years.”
“I could figure it out without Reggie being any the wiser, but that won’t stop him from trying. You’d still be stuck.”
“But you’d be on my team.”
“I am on your team.”
Rick tilted his head, his dark hair drifting across his temple in that way that made her want to run her fingers through it. “If there was anything over which we might need to form a team.”
“Man, I’m gonna need some drinks.”
Rick smiled that loose grin that made her feel all soft and gooey inside. With a sigh she slid her arms up over his shoulders and leaned up for a slow, deep kiss. A little tension between Rick and her was good once in a while, because man, did she like making up.
He put his hands around her waist and lifted her onto the deep window sill. Still kissing, Rick pushed her knees apart and stepped between them. When his big palms slid up the insides of her thighs, though, she winced. “Hold up there, Mr. Bond. Ouch.”
“We’ll just turn you around, then.”
Samantha snorted. “You’re so practical. I say you can have me every which way, but you’re going to hav
e to do a little work with some aloe lotion, first. Tonight. Because you’re gonna be so scared after you hear the stuff on those recordings, you’ll do anything I want just so you don’t have to sleep alone.”
“Oh, I am, am I?” he asked, amusement rumbling in his chest.
She kissed him again, hot and openmouthed. “Yeah. You betcha.”
“Okay, then.” With a last kiss, Rick set her back on her feet. “Be extremely cautious, Samantha, but go find out what you can, if there’s anything to find. I could use the help.”
And just like that, she felt…unleashed. A weight lifted off her shoulders. The green Godzilla on her chest might as well have roared. She was still going behind Rick’s back, but he wanted her to. Whatever this thing was, yeah, he could just tell her about it, but given how fiercely he protected her, she couldn’t fault him for reacting the same way to something else just because she wasn’t part of it. Yet.
Of course now she didn’t just want to know the what. Now the why and the how got added to her list. Figuring them out would give her another clue or two toward figuring out Rick himself. For every day of the past year, that had been priority number one. It probably always would be. For a puzzle-solver like she was, that was pretty damn cool.
17
Sunday, 8:50 p.m.
As Walter hooked cables into the large monitor at the end of the dining room table, Samantha knelt in front of Aunt Mercia and took both the older woman’s hands in hers. “You didn’t want to go creeping around the house last night,” she said with a half smile. “Are you sure you want to see the results?”
Richard’s aunt squeezed Samantha’s fingers. “That’s it, exactly. I’m too old and dignified to go ghost hunting. But I certainly enjoy a good scare. Don’t forget, I’ve spent time here, too. I’m already fairly certain we’re not alone.”
“Rick, will you hand me that cable?” Walter asked, and Richard shook himself as he handed another USB cord to Samantha’s fence. He never tired of watching Sam charm people, but it felt especially satisfying this time.
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