Enchantment & Bridge of Dreams

by Christina Skye

Cathlin didn’t speak. She seemed to be struggling with a wave of conflicting emotions. Hell, Dominic knew that he was.

  “I found your cameo. I thought you should wear it, as a reminder of that old house you love—and of the way you can save it.” It was playing dirty, but Dominic didn’t care. He was going to get through to her any way he could.

  “Dominic, I don’t—”

  He didn’t give her time to be angry. He just pulled her head back and then crushed his mouth over hers in one hard motion.

  This had to be what summer tasted like, he thought dimly. Hot and endlessly sweet. His fingers tightened. He wanted and wanted and wanted.

  But Dominic knew he couldn’t have what he wanted. This was as far as it was going to go. When he pulled away, her face was flushed and her hands were fists.

  “What was that for?”

  It took Dominic a few heartbeats to recover enough control to answer. “It’s for the man who’s staring at us through those windows. I want him to know exactly what we were doing out here.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CATHLIN TRIED TO FORCE her heart back between her ribs.

  Who was she kidding? She wasn’t even close to normalcy. Her mouth was still tingling from the burn of Dominic’s lips, and the cameo hung cold and heavy at her neck.

  Cathlin shoved open the door of the Jeep and tugged her satchel over her arm. Once again the man had outflanked her and left her speechless.

  Forget him, O’Neill. You’ve got work to do.

  She tugged her satchel higher and ran a hand over her hair, but she needn’t have bothered. She did not look like the cool professional as she hoped, nor the level-headed wine expert.

  At that moment Cathlin O’Neill looked like a dewy-eyed beauty, like a woman lost in love after being kissed by the man she adored. The fragile cameo at her neck above her soft blouse subtly complemented that image.

  Dominic had planned it that way, of course.

  RICHARD SEVERANCE WAS A picture of casual elegance in raw silk trousers and an Armani jacket carefully selected to exaggerate the width of his unimpressive shoulders. He received Cathlin warmly, all smiles and curiosity to see this case of Bordeaux she wanted to sell him. But as Cathlin cradled the sample bottle, Severance’s hard eyes settled on the smooth curves beneath her blouse. From there, they ran to the long, slim thighs and rounded calves beneath her blue jeans.

  His lips curved in a smile.

  His cordiality lasted ten minutes. By the time Cathlin began tendering bills of sale and import documents, the London merchant banker and socialite prince had waited long enough. He cornered her by the Louis XIV writing desk as she was working a cork out of her first sample bottle.

  “I thought you’d like a taste before you made your decision.”

  “How true. I always sample anything I consider buying.” His eyes narrowed as he moved toward her. “You really do have the most beautiful mouth, Cathlin. I wonder if it tastes the same as last time.” He caught her waist and pulled her into his arms.

  “This is not amusing, Richard!”

  “Simply part of the sampling.” His tongue thrust between her lips. His hand flattened over her breast.

  Cathlin shoved at his hands. “Stop this, Richard. I told you last time, it was strictly business and you agreed.”

  “I’m afraid I lied,” Severance said coolly. “Dear, sweet Cathlin, why else would you have come back? I knew that little scene last time was just to get me crazy. And it worked, love. I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind.”

  “I came for the wine, Richard. Nothing else.”

  “For Christ’s sake, I saw how you came on to your young stud out there in the car. You two looked like you were going to make it in the front seat. So don’t tell me you’re not interested.”

  “What you saw was—a mistake.”

  “Good. I’ll please you more than he did. Besides, it always pays to keep your clients happy.”

  Cathlin’s face paled. So it had all been a game. She was part of the package—otherwise, no deal. “I don’t have time for these antics.”

  “Of course you do, Cathlin. You know you want it. Judging by the way you kissed your friend in the car, you were primed, loaded, and ready to fire.” His fingers pushed under her blouse, working at the delicate layers of lace beneath.

  Cathlin felt a memory stir deep in her mind, an image of hard hands shoving her into a dark room. She closed her eyes, fighting to stay calm, fighting to remember. But there was nothing more.

  She shook her head as Severance pulled her closer. “Let me go, Richard.”

  “Damn it, Cathlin, I haven’t been able to think straight since I met you. It’s long past time that we—”

  Cathlin sent her fist into his stomach. Severance bent over, gasping in pain. “You’ll be sorry for that. I’ve got friends, damn it.”

  Suddenly Dominic charged through the doorway. “Cathlin, are you—” He stopped when he saw Severance doubled over, his suit awry.

  Cathlin put a restraining hand on his arm. “Go away, Dominic. Things are fine here.”

  “Fine? Your blouse is up to your chin and your cheeks are bright red and you say you’re fine? What in the hell was he doing?”

  “Nothing that matters. Now if you will please leave, I’d like to finish here.”

  “Finish what?” Dominic glared at Severance. “The man was muscling you over. He wasn’t interested in any bloody wine.”

  “I know that,” Cathlin said calmly.

  Dominic crossed his arms at his chest. “Go ahead and finish. I’m not leaving without you.”

  “This is my fight, Dominic.”

  “Not anymore, it isn’t. The second that bastard laid a finger on you all bets were off.”

  Severance tugged his coat straight and scowled at Cathlin. “Get this person out of here so we can talk, Cathlin. Otherwise I—”

  “Otherwise what, Richard? You’ll warn off all your friends? Serita and I will survive, I assure you.” Smiling grimly, Cathlin ripped her bill of sale into tiny pieces and tossed them over Severance’s head. Then she very carefully overturned the vintage Bordeaux across Severance’s beautiful carpet. “There’s your wine sample, Richard. It was an excellent year, by the way, fruity and quite intense. I hope you enjoy it, because that’s the last one you’ll be getting from us.”

  “You bloody little—”

  Severance never finished. Dominic’s hand smashed into his jaw, and sent him staggering backward onto the floor.

  CATHLIN SLID BEHIND THE wheel, her hands trembling. “I told you not to interfere.”

  “Too bad,” Dominic said tightly.

  “I don’t want anything from Richard Severance. Nor do I want anything from you. I can manage by myself.”

  “Sure you can.” Dominic’s fingers tightened on her door. He took in her stiff shoulders and pale face. She was prickly and stubborn and grade-A impossible.

  And he still wanted to pull her against his chest and kiss her breathless.

  No mistake about it, Montserrat, he thought grimly. You’ve really blown it this time. So much for all that impartial bodyguard routine.

  He glared down at Cathlin, angry at the desire still battering his body. “Slide over,” he ordered. “I’m driving.”

  Cathlin’s hands tightened. “I told you, I’m fine.”

  “Like hell you are.”

  Cathlin couldn’t ignore him, no matter how hard she tried. His eyes were smoky and his body was rigid. He looked angry and frustrated and determined to protect her—even from herself. And his strength was seductive, tempting her to give in, tempting her to let him take charge and smooth her way, like the professional he was.

  Only Cathlin knew one other thing. This was all just temporary. She’d let down her defenses and learn to rely on him, and then one day she’d wake up and find him gone, off to Tashkent or Bogotà or Timbuktu, just like her father had gone.

  And she’d be the one left behind, drying her tears and fighting her pain,
trying to pick up the thousand shattered pieces of her life.

  No. Not ever again. “Forget it, Macho Man. I’m just fine.”

  “Fine? Your hands are shaking and you can barely see straight, O’Neill. I don’t intend to die from your reckless driving. Now move over.”

  Cathlin thought about arguing with him, but the cold light of reason told her he was right. Her hands were shaking so hard that she’d probably have them wrapped around a tree inside of two minutes.

  So she’d do it. Just this once. But she didn’t have to like it.

  Scowling, she slid into the passenger seat, trying not to notice how his shoulders filled the seat, how his strong fingers worked themselves around the steering wheel.

  Blasted, competent male. “You didn’t need to come barging in. I was managing just fine. And I certainly didn’t need you decking one of my best clients.”

  “One of your ex-best clients. If that snake gets near you again, he’ll spend some serious, quality time getting to know the traction equipment in an intensive care ward.”

  “Stay out of my life, Montserrat. If I do decide to go to Draycott and listen to Nicholas Draycott’s explanation, you’ll be the first to know. But that’s all you’re entitled to, understand? Everything else is mine, my business, my house, my life. I can take care of myself. I’ve had a lot of practice, you see, and I don’t need any lessons now.” Now that the adrenaline rush was fading, Cathlin felt a wave of numbness begin to climb up her legs. Seconds later a tear inched down her cheek, but she shoved it away.

  “Damn it, Cathlin.” Cursing, Dominic pulled the car onto the shoulder and pulled Cathlin against his chest. One tear worked into two and then more, but she made no sound. He held her anyway, feeling the heat of her tears on his shirt, feeling her soft breasts wedged against his chest, feeling her stiffness and her fury. He fought back the intense desire he felt and only held her, one hand buried beneath the warm shadow of her hair. When she finally pulled away he found a tissue and held it out to her.

  She gave a defiant sniff and blew her nose. “Drive. I’ll be fine.”

  When Dominic saw there would be no more tears and certainly no explanations, he shoved the Jeep into gear and roared away from Richard Severance’s monstrous palace.

  As he did, he caught the faint scent of lilacs.

  Another trick of his imagination? There was a logical explanation, of course, but right then it was beyond him. All he could think of was Cathlin. The way she’d forced her chin up. The way she’d tossed the contents of that bottle over Severance’s carpet. The way she left him hungry and hard and crazy to kiss her.

  But in doing that, he violated the first and oldest rule of his profession: Never, ever let it get personal.

  He moved away from her and closed his hands around the wheel. To his fury he saw they were trembling slightly.

  THEY DIDN’T TALK. BOTH OF them knew they had too much to say and too little hope of ever saying it.

  After fifteen minutes, Cathlin insisted on taking the wheel and Dominic finally agreed.

  She drove the Jeep along the narrow roads by instinct rather than sight. She drove too fast and she knew it, but the shadows moving down into the valleys left her with a sudden uneasiness and an urgency to be back at Seacliffe—and away from the man beside her. The man Cathlin couldn’t seem to stop thinking about.

  As they rounded a bend, two sheep lumbered out of the gathering shadows and Cathlin jerked the wheel to avoid them.

  “Slow down,” Dominic said harshly.

  “Go to hell,” she snapped back.

  His hands clenched. “Are you trying to kill yourself?”

  “I’m simply trying to get home. And to get as far away from you as possible.”

  Dominic’s eyes went hard. “Cathlin, don’t. Not like this.” He caught her shoulder.

  She shook his hand away, frightened by the hundred wild emotions even that single touch conveyed.

  It had all happened, just as she feared. He had gotten too close, and he was making her remember, making her feel things she didn’t want to feel. Not ever.

  And somewhere deep inside her, Cathlin O’Neill knew that to feel again, real and deeply, she would have to brave the dark gates of her childhood memories. She could feel them there sometimes in her dreams, but nothing ever remained the next morning when she awoke. It was safer that way, she told herself firmly.

  So she would keep things just as they were. No strings, no emotions, no attachments. And needing Dominic Montserrat was just not going to happen.

  She scowled into the rearview mirror and saw two headlights loom up out of the twilight. She eased to the left of the narrow lane, hoping whoever it was would slow down, in case there were any more sheep wandering past. The ditch at the edge of the road was bordered by a high stone wall which left little room to maneuver. No matter that she was born and raised in England, she’d learned to drive in Philadelphia, and being on the left still made her uncomfortable.

  Behind her the lights kept coming, and they were coming faster.

  Cathlin frowned.

  “I see it, O’Neill. Ease into second and get ready to turn.”

  Cathlin swallowed, hearing the iron in Dominic’s voice. This couldn’t be happening. He was overreacting again, just trying to frighten her, hoping to find a reason to interfere in her life. “You’re joking, right?”

  “Eighty percent of all professional kidnappings take place from cars, O’Neill. This is no bloody joke.”

  Cathlin heard the roar of a motor and knew that slowing down was the last thing on the mind of the driver behind them. “What if there’s no place to turn?” she said hoarsely.

  “There will be. Just hold it steady. If we have to ram them, we will.”

  “Ram them?”

  “I added some reinforcement to your front and rear bumpers, just in case. It will hold, don’t worry.”

  Ram them. Cathlin swallowed. “Great.”

  Dominic scanned the wall to their left. “There’s a sharp left up ahead, as I remember. Just after that, you’ll make a quick right down a lane between two cottages.”

  He remembered? “Tell me when.” Behind them the lights loomed closer. Cathlin blinked, sliding out of the line of reflection, concentrating on the road. Beside her, she heard Dominic search under the seat. “What are you doing?”

  “Evening the odds.”

  Cathlin heard a click, but didn’t dare take her eyes from the road.

  “Steady, Irish. We’re almost there. Just a few seconds. And—now.”

  The same second Cathlin jerked left, he pulled a canister from the seat and leveled a high-intensity beam of light straight back into their pursuers’ eyes. Desperately Cathlin braked and then skidded to the right, praying Dominic’s memory was as sharp as the rest of him.

  The road was there, right where he said it would be. Gritting her teeth, she floored the Jeep and shot between the darkened cottages.

  “Good. Now get ready to pull over and cut your lights.”

  Cathlin’s fingers were trembling on the wheel. Dimly she felt Dominic’s hand grip her knee for a moment. “You’re doing fine, Cathlin. Remember, they need us in one piece. That’s the only way they’ll get that wine.”

  She swallowed, nodding but not feeling very much better.

  “Now.”

  She pulled left just behind an ancient overhanging oak, braked sharply, and then cut the lights. The car settled with a hiss of gravel and the pop of cooling metal.

  Darkness closed in. In the sudden silence Cathlin heard the sigh of the wind and the rush of oak leaves overhead.

  But no sound of a car.

  She looked questioningly at Dominic, barely able to make out his hard features in the darkness.

  “Give it a few seconds. If it stays quiet, then take this road straight on into the village.”

  “But how—”

  “It’s my business to know, Cathlin.”

  Business. Of course it was. She looked away, her fingers c
lenched on the wheel. Just business. She had to remember that.

  The seconds ticked past. No lights. No shouts. No noise.

  “Let her rip.”

  The engine answered her movement, thundering back to life, but it didn’t match the thunder of Cathlin’s heart. Then she heard the sound of a door opening. “Dominic? What—”

  “Drive straight ahead and stop just past the church. Lock your doors and wait for me there. I’ll meet you in ten minutes, after I take a look around.”

  TEN MINUTES COULD BE A very long time.

  Cathlin found it was time enough to be born and die and be born again, not a dozen but a thousand times. She learned it was ample time to taste your own fear, feel your sweat, and force yourself to desperate decisions. It was also time enough to see just how dangerously entangled her life had become with Dominic Montserrat’s.

  She was beyond fear, beyond feeling much at all, when the light tap finally came on the far window.

  Dominic’s face loomed up from the darkness and she shoved open the door.

  “Drive,” he said, noncommittal. Impassive.

  “What happened? Were they—”

  “Later.”

  She knew he was right, but it only made her angrier. She didn’t want to drive; she didn’t want to sit here in her own sweat. She certainly didn’t want to be in this crazy situation.

  But she started the Jeep in silence, knowing there was nothing else she could do.

  He didn’t talk until they were well beyond the coast road and Seacliffe loomed dark up the hill. “There was one car. You lost them in the village. They doubled back, looked around, then turned north and I lost them.” He sounded angry.

  “Who were they? What did they want?”

  “My best guess is that someone heard about the wine and wanted to assess how well protected you are. Once the news of the discovery leaked out, and you were identified as the inheritor, it wouldn’t take them long to track you down. After all, there must have been a few thousand people at that auction at the British Museum. Your picture was in several newspapers the next day. Anyone there could be behind this, and now they all know your face,” he finished grimly.