Deception

by Amanda Quick

  It had been the perfect place to experience a pirate’s kiss.

  With the diary tucked under her arm, Olympia walked slowly back through the house. She checked the latches on the windows and put out the candles and then she went up the stairs to her bedchamber.

  It was a fine evening. Jared could not recall a more pleasant night. The temperature was balmy, the moon was full, and the scents of late spring filled the air. It seemed to him that if he listened very carefully he might even hear faerie music in the meadow.

  It was the sort of night that caused a man to be fully aware of his manhood, a night made for soft murmurs and the sweet sighs of desire. It was a night on which anything could happen.

  A night when a man could seduce a siren.

  Indeed, if young Hugh had not shattered the magic a short while earlier, Jared thought wryly, Olympia would have been his by now.

  The vision of Olympia in the throes of passionate surrender caused his whole body to tighten once more. She had been so lovely lying there in the firelight, he thought. He ached with the memory.

  Her hair had been a river of flame as it spilled across the sofa cushions. Her breasts had been firm and high, beautifully curved and tipped with plump nipples the color of pink coral. Her warm skin had been as soft as silk. Her mouth had been all honey and spice. The scent of her still filled Jared’s head.

  And she had wanted him, responded to him, abandoned herself to him.

  A rush of hot satisfaction poured through Jared. It was the first time in his life that he had known for certain that a woman desired him simply because of himself. As far as Miss Olympia Wingfield was aware, after all, she had been seduced by her nephews’ tutor.

  Jared smiled. She found him exciting. She melted at his touch. Her gaze had reflected her sweet, honest passion.

  There had been no coldness in her as there had been in Demetria. And Jared was almost certain that there was no other lover in Olympia’s life, at least not at the moment.

  He could not be certain of the past because Olympia claimed to be a woman of the world. The implication was that she was not a virgin. But Jared did not think that she had ever known the depth of passion she had experienced tonight, even if she had lain with another man.

  He had seen the surprise and wonder in her eyes, felt it in her touch. And he had known that he was the first man to arouse her to such a pitch of emotion. Even if there had been another man before him, Jared thought with sudden, soaring confidence, he could make her forget him.

  Unlike Demetria.

  Beware the Guardian’s deadly kiss when you peer into its heart to find the key.

  Olympia frowned over the phrase she had painstakingly pieced together. She did not understand it, but she was confident that she had just discovered the first clue in the diary.

  She yawned as she scratched the words onto a sheet of foolscap. It was very late, nearly two in the morning. The candle had burned low beside the bed. She had been unable to sleep after Jared had left so she had attacked the diary with renewed vigor.

  Beware the Guardian’s deadly kiss when you peer into its heart to find the key.

  Olympia had no notion of what the words meant but she sensed that they were important. She started to turn the page. A muffled bark from the vicinity of the kitchen made her pause.

  Something had awakened Minotaur.

  Alarmed, Olympia put down the diary and flung back the covers. She got out of the high bed, crossed the bedchamber to the fireplace, and grabbed an iron poker. Then she put on her wrapper.

  She went to the door and opened it cautiously.

  Silence flowed up from the first floor in a great wave. Minotaur had stopped barking. Whatever had disturbed him was gone, Olympia realized. Perhaps he had been awakened by a cat or a small animal that had come nosing around the kitchen door in search of scraps.

  Nevertheless, she could not shake off the feeling that something was very wrong.

  Clutching the poker, Olympia lifted the hem of her wrapper and went slowly down the stairs. Cool, night-scented air greeted her at the foot of the staircase. It seemed to be coming from the library.

  Olympia went toward the library door which was still partially ajar, just as she had left it earlier. She used the poker to edge it fully open.

  The strong smell of brandy made her wrinkle her nose. Frowning, she walked slowly into the room.

  There was just enough light to see the drapes rippling slightly on the soft, evening breeze. Olympia shivered. She was very certain she had not left the window open. She was always careful to lock the ground floor doors and windows at night.

  Of course, she reminded herself, tonight had not been a normal sort of night. Her mind had been whirling with thoughts of Jared when she had gone upstairs earlier. She could easily have forgotten to check the library windows.

  The smell of brandy grew stronger as she walked toward the window. It was not until her bare feet touched the wet spot on the carpet that Olympia realized the truth.

  Fear lanced through her. She fought it back and hurried over to the desk. She fumbled with the oil lamp and finally got it lit. The reassuring glow revealed that the room was empty.

  It also showed very clearly that the damp spot on the carpet had been caused by the brandy that had spilled from the overturned decanter.

  Olympia caught her breath. Someone had been prowling about in her library only a few minutes earlier.

  Chapter 5

  “What are we going to study this morning, Mr. Chillhurst?” Ethan asked as he spread jam on his toast.

  Jared opened his appointment journal which lay beside his plate. He glanced at the entry he had made under morning lessons. “Geometry.”

  “Geometry.” Ethan gave a heartfelt groan.

  Jared ignored the reaction as he closed the journal. He glanced again at Olympia’s tense, abstracted expression. Something was wrong but thus far he had no notion of what the problem was. A cold sensation went through him at the thought that she might be having regrets about last night.

  He had rushed her, he thought. He must give her more time to adjust to the passion that had sprung up like wildfire between them. He must not ruin everything by pushing too hard, too fast.

  “I do not care for mathematics,” Hugh announced.

  “Especially geometry,” Robert added. “We shall be stuck indoors all morning.”

  “No, we will not be indoors today.” Jared looked at Mrs. Bird. “A bit more coffee, if you please, Mrs. Bird.”

  “Aye, sir.” Mrs. Bird lumbered over to the table with the pot. She scowled at Ethan as she filled Jared’s cup. “And just what do ye think yer doin’ with that bit o’ sausage?”

  “Nothing,” Ethan replied, his expression angelic.

  “Yer feedin’ it to that dog under the table, ain’t ye?”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are,” Hugh said cheerfully. “I saw you.”

  “You cannot prove it,” Ethan retorted.

  “Don’t have to prove it,” Hugh said. “We all know it’s true.”

  Olympia looked up, momentarily distracted from her quiet contemplation of the eggs on her plate. “Are you two arguing again?”

  “The argument is finished,” Jared said calmly. He gave the twins a quelling glance and they immediately subsided. “Mrs. Bird, perhaps it would be best if you removed Minotaur from the room.”

  “Right ye are, sir. I never did approve of having dogs in the house.” Mrs. Bird went to the kitchen door and snapped her fingers at Minotaur.

  The big dog reluctantly inched out from under the table and, with a last hopeful glance at Ethan, slunk into the kitchen.

  “How are we going to study geometry outdoors, Mr. Chillhurst?” Robert asked.

  “We will begin by measuring the distance across the stream without actually crossing it,” Jared said. He watched as Olympia went back to concentrating on her eggs.

  “How can you do that?” Ethan asked, his curiosity apparently piqued.r />
  “I will show you,” Jared said, his eyes still on Olympia’s face. “And when you have the knack of it, I shall tell you the tale of how Captain Jack used the technique to find his way out of a jungle.”

  “A jungle in the Isthmus of Panama?” Hugh asked.

  “No, this was a jungle on an island in the West Indies,” Jared explained. He smiled to himself when Olympia glanced up, her attention caught at last. Good old Captain Jack, he thought ruefully.

  “What was Captain Jack doing in the middle of an island jungle?” Ethan asked.

  “Concealing a treasure chest, of course,” Jared murmured.

  Olympia’s eyes widened with interest. “Did he ever go back to the island to dig up his chest?”

  “I believe he did go back for that one,” Jared said.

  “Did Captain Jack really use geometry to find his way off the island?” Robert asked.

  “Yes, he did.” Jared took a sip of coffee and studied Olympia’s expression over the rim of the cup. The unfocused look had returned to her eyes. She was lost in her thoughts again. Even the bit about Captain Jack had not held her for long this morning. Something was definitely wrong.

  “Did Captain Jack slit a man’s throat and leave his bones on the treasure chest as a warning to anyone who dug it up?” Hugh demanded.

  Jared nearly choked on his coffee. “Where the devil did you get a notion like that?”

  “I’ve heard that pirates always did that,” Hugh said.

  “I have told you, Captain Jack was a buccaneer, not a pirate.” Jared drew his watch from his pocket and checked the time. “If you are finished, you may leave the table. I want to speak privately with your aunt. Run upstairs and gather some pencils and paper. I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

  “Yes, sir,” Robert said eagerly.

  Chairs scraped loudly as the three youngsters scrambled to leave the room.

  “One moment, if you please,” Jared said quietly.

  All three turned back obediently.

  “Did you forget something, Mr. Chillhurst?” Robert asked.

  “No, you did. All three of you forgot to excuse yourselves properly to your aunt.”

  “Sorry, sir.” Robert sketched a little bow. “Please excuse me, Aunt Olympia.”

  “Beg pardon, Aunt Olympia,” Hugh said. “Have to leave now.”

  “Excuse me, Aunt Olympia,” Ethan sang out. “Got to prepare for our studies, you know.”

  Olympia blinked and smiled vaguely at all three. “Yes, of course. Have a pleasant morning.”

  There was another concerted rush to the door. Jared waited patiently until the room had been cleared. Then he gazed down the length of the table at Olympia.

  She looked so very pretty sitting there in a shaft of warm sunlight, he thought. There was an astonishing sense of intimacy to be found in this business of sharing the morning meal with her. A now-familiar stab of desire went through him.

  Today Olympia’s striking, intelligent face was framed by the neatly pleated frill of a modest white lawn chemisette. The bright yellow shade of her high-waisted gown accented her red hair, which was loosely pinned beneath a dainty white lace cap.

  Jared wondered fleetingly what she would do if he got up and went down the length of the table to kiss her. That thought led to a vision of Olympia lying atop the table amid the clutter of dishes and teacups. He could see her now with her lovely legs dangling over the edge of the table, her skirts pushed up to her waist and her hair in wild disarray.

  He could also see himself in the mental image. He was standing between Olympia’s soft, white thighs, his body violently aroused, honey on his hands.

  Jared stifled a groan of frustration and made a grab for his self-control. “Something appears to be troubling you this morning, Miss Wingfield. May I inquire what the problem is?”

  Olympia glanced quickly toward the kitchen door and then cast another hurried look at the door that had closed behind her nephews. She leaned forward and lowered her voice.

  “As it happens, I have been very anxious to talk to you all morning, Mr. Chillhurst.”

  Jared wondered fleetingly if she would continue to call him Mr. Chillhurst after she had reached her first climax in his arms. “I believe we have some privacy now. Pray, tell me what is on your mind.”

  Olympia’s brows drew together in a look of intense concentration. “Something very strange happened in the library last night.”

  Jared’s stomach knotted. He strove to keep his voice calm and reassuring. “Unfamiliar, perhaps, Miss Wingfield, but I would not term it strange. Men and women have, after all, been enjoying such pleasant interludes since the days of Adam and Eve.”

  Olympia stared at him blankly. “What on earth are you talking about, sir?”

  Just his luck, Jared thought gloomily. At long last he had found his own personal siren only to discover that she was cursed with the sort of brain that tended to concentrate on one thing at a time.

  Nevertheless, it was an enormous relief to know that she was not, apparently, having second thoughts about the passion that had flared between them.

  “Do not concern yourself, Miss Wingfield.” Jared rested his elbows on the table and planted his fingertips together. “I was referring to something quite inconsequential.”

  “I see.” Olympia shot another cautious glance toward both doors. “About last night … ”

  “Yes?”

  “Minotaur barked sometime around two. I went downstairs to see what had alarmed him.” She pitched her voice even lower. “Mr. Chillhurst, I found the brandy decanter overturned.”

  Jared stared at her. “Are you talking about the one in your library?”

  “Yes, of course I am. It is the only brandy decanter I own. It was Aunt Sophy’s, you see. She and Aunt Ida always kept it in the library.”

  “Miss Wingfield, perhaps it would be best if you continued with your tale,” Jared said.

  She gave him an impatient look. “That is precisely what I am attempting to do, sir, but you keep interrupting me.”

  “My apologies.” Jared drummed his fingertips together.

  “In addition to the overturned decanter, I also discovered that a window in the library was open.”

  Jared frowned. “Are you certain? I do not recall a window being open in there earlier.”

  “Precisely. There were no windows open.”

  “Perhaps the breeze from the window knocked the decanter over,” Jared said slowly.

  “Not likely. That decanter is extremely heavy. Mr. Chillhurst, I believe someone entered my library last night.”

  “Miss Wingfield, I must tell you that I am not pleased.”

  Olympia’s eyes widened. “Neither am I, sir. Nothing like this has ever happened before around here. It is rather alarming.”

  Jared studied her over his steepled fingers. “Are you telling me that you went downstairs all by yourself to investigate strange sounds in your library? You did not wake Mrs. Bird or loose the dog first?”

  Olympia brushed the matter aside. “There is no cause for concern, sir. I was armed with a poker. In any event the library was quite empty by the time I got there. I suspect Minotaur’s barking frightened off the intruder.”

  “A poker? Good God.” Jared was suddenly furious at her lack of common sense. He got to his feet and started toward the door. “I believe I shall have a look at the library, myself.”

  Olympia jumped up quickly. “I’ll come with you.”

  He opened the door of the breakfast room and gave her a hard, disapproving look as she went past him into the hall. Olympia took no notice of his expression.

  She hurried on down the hall ahead of him and rushed into the library. Jared forced himself to follow at a more deliberate pace.

  When he entered the room a moment later he found Olympia examining one of the windows.

  “See here?” She pointed to the latch. “It has been broken. Someone forced this window last night, Mr. Chillhurst.”

  Jared
took a closer look at the window latch. The old metal hardware had, indeed, been bent. “The latch was not in this condition earlier?”

  “No, I would have noticed. I have checked the latches on these windows every night for years.”

  Jared swept the room with a glance. “Is anything missing?”

  “No.” Olympia went to her desk and tested the locked drawers. “But it was a near thing. Whoever broke the window latch would have had no trouble getting into my desk.”

  Jared gave her a sharp glance. “You believe someone was after something in your desk?”

  “Of course. There is only one thing anyone could want to steal from me, Mr. Chillhurst, and that is the Lightbourne diary.”

  Jared stared at her, dumbfounded by her conclusion. “No one knows you have it.” Except me, he thought.

  “We cannot be certain of that. I gave Uncle Artemis strict instructions not to tell anyone about the diary, but there is no way of knowing who might have discovered that he sent it to me.”

  “It is highly unlikely that your uncle mentioned the fact to anyone,” Jared said carefully.

  “He told you about it, did he not?”

  Jared tensed. “Yes, he did.”

  “Of course he did so because he knew that he could trust you. But I believe there are others who knew that my uncle had purchased the diary.”

  “Who are you referring to, Miss Wingfield?”

  “Well, there is the old Frenchman who sold the diary to Uncle Artemis in the first place.” Olympia tapped the toe of her slipper-clad foot. “He may have learned that the diary was being sent on to me. He could have told any number of people.”

  She was right. And if she knew the whole truth, Jared thought, she would likely consider her nephews’ new tutor the most logical suspect. But he had spent the night in his own bed contemplating the pleasures of seducing a siren, not rifling through a library.

  Jared tried to suppress his growing unease. Over the years others had chased the secret of the Lightbourne diary but to Jared’s knowledge the only people who knew about it these days were the members of his own family. Everyone else involved in the hundred-year-old legend had long since died.