“She's lovely.” Kate provided lamely. She presumed Burroughs was unmarried, judging from the lack of a ring on his finger.
“As she is well aware.” He cleared his throat and placed each paper into the pertinent folders. The task completed, Burroughs rose from his seat, a mass of rippling sinew and muscle. He issued a shoulder-rolling grunt and lifted his thick arms above his head, his fingertips nearly colliding with the acoustical ceiling.
The action drew Kate's attention up his broad chest before lowering to his tapered waist and narrow hips. She warmed uncomfortably, watching him lower his powerful arms before sitting. Impatiently, he raked a large hand through his thick hair, sending the shiny locks into chaotic disarray. Hastily, she lowered her eyes, not wanting to be caught staring.
“I've examined the company reports.”
Thankfully, he didn't look at her and folded his hands together, positioning them behind his neck. Dante was quiet, his eyes focused on the stained ceiling, and Kate waited for some hidden mistake to be brought to her attention. She clutched at her notepad, apprehension rolling in her stomach. His ridiculously long lashes dropped and shielded his thoughts as his attention returned to her.
“Your work is of superior quality.”
“Oh.” Kate supplied weakly, secretly delighted.
“I looked over your numbers and data.” He continued to muse aloud, the deep intonations of his refined voice filling the room. “The reports are excellently compiled.”
“I do try, sir.”
“I hadn't realized you were K. Bennett,” Dante admitted almost beneath his breath. “That was a dreadful oversight, on my part. I feel the necessary praise has been overlooked, where you're concerned.”
Kate was pleased with his approval. Praise was something Moring never dealt to his employees, least of all his secretary.
“Miss Bennett,” Burroughs' voice was low-pitched and thoughtful. His hands dropped and he leaned forward. Deep in thought, he folded his hands, his forefingers forming a steeple beneath his deeply cleft chin, and studied her. “Your work is excellent.”
“Thank you, sir.” She murmured, fidgeting in her seat.
“After examining your work, I have a proposal to offer you.” His hands fell to the desktop and, vaguely, he reshuffled the already orderly pile of papers.
“Which is…?”
“I took control of BAI eight years ago.” He stated aloud. “Also, I acquired my father's personal secretary.”
“Barbara.” Kate interjected easily.
“Barbara has been with the company for nearly….” He paused, pushing the pile of papers aside.
“She's been with the company for nearly forty years.”
Dante nodded, the abundance of unruly locks moving and capturing her attention. Despite his impeccably groomed visage, his hair defied conventionality and openly rebelled against society. Unbidden, the thought of how it would feel, twined around her fingers, filled her mind.
“She’s retiring this December.” He continued, his brilliant gaze holding her captive, a small and strangely knowing smile twisting his mouth.
Dimly, Kate wondered if he could read her thoughts. She felt pulled into the depths of his eyes and was thankful she remained seated, his stare enough to make a woman weak at the knees. Kate blinked, lost in the entrancing depths, an unfamiliar sensation making her tremble.
“Barb is an excellent secretary. I mean,” She responded feebly. Kate clutched the tablet close to her chest, her knuckles turning white. “She's good at her job.”
“Yes, she is, and nearly irreplaceable.” He agreed with a brisk nod. “I'm asking you to consider the position.”
“Her position?”
“At my offices.”
“Your offices.”
“Yes, the head offices in England.” He responded patiently. The hint of an indulgent smile grew, causing a dimple of amusement to appear. “I would like you to consider the position.”
Kate released her death grip on the notepad, her fingers aching. She didn't know how to answer, her thoughts jumbled.
“What is your opinion, Miss Bennett?”
Aware her mouth was hanging open, Kate closed it with a decisive snap and cleared her throat. “What about my job here?”
“I'm merely asking you to consider the position.” He suggested lightly, his unwavering contemplation continuing. “I'm certain you've seen Internet site for the Burlington plant.”
She nodded quickly, her head spinning.
“Granted, the facility is far larger and older than these, but it's awe-inspiring. I suggest you take the opportunity and visit.” He shrugged. “Get the feel of the place, as you American's say.”
“It's so far away.” She began nervously, her mind racing.
“If you should change your mind, your position at this location will be available. Your skills are important to the company.” He rose from his seat, his massive figure filling the office. Dante planted balled fists on the desk and loomed forward, forcing Kate to look at him. “I'm asking you to consider the position, Miss Bennett, not defect.”
“Sir?”
“Burroughs,” he corrected gently. “My name is Burroughs, Dante Burroughs.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Burroughs.”
She gave him an odd look. His face was scarcely a foot away, and she stared with unabashed appreciation. There were small lines fanning from the corner of his eyes, his darkening tan causing the color to appear more intense. She forced her attention past the length of his nose before settling on the curve etched along the side of his full mouth.
Go to England.
Kate didn't know if she was capable of being his personal secretary, having to answer to him on a daily basis. She would have to fight the feelings that struck her whenever he was near. Kate was unaware her every thought was apparent on her expressive face and he was struck speechless by the hunger in her eyes. He blanched beneath the darkness of his tan and dropped into his chair.
“You may address me as anything but sir.” He grumbled, not meeting her gaze. Dante cleared his throat, wincing as he provided her an indistinct smile.
“Sir, I…”
“Burroughs is acceptable.” His tone was businesslike and brusque. “Duncan has considered temporarily assuming Moring's position, until a replacement is found. Permit me to reiterate, Madam, your position here isn't in jeopardy.”
“I'm not certain, sir.”
“Burroughs,” he corrected in a deep-throated purr. “Give the position a chance, Miss Bennett.”
“I'm not certain I'm the person you need.” She bit her lip at the admission, unaware the action made his eyes twinkle.
“Let me assure you, Madam.” He whispered huskily. “You're the only person I need.”
Kate failed to detect the double entendre. She shook her head in disbelief.
“Barbara is a wonderful secretary.” He continued brusquely. “She's been anticipating her retirement for some time.”
“She has mentioned it on more than one occasion to me.” She provided vaguely.
“Duncan has sung your praises since his first venture and Barbara, you will find, is accommodating.” He paused, shrugging. “You may consider the position a proverbial step up in the ranks. Grant me the general ninety day trial and, if you aren't satisfied, there's nothing lost.”
Kate mulled over his words, nodding her head. He would give her ninety days to start anew. It was a chance that would never come her way, again, but she had to consult another person about the job offer. His opinion meant more than any words her employer could use.
***
Dante lay sprawled atop the hotel bed. He had stripped his shirt and tie from his perspiring body, the unaccustomed dry heat of the Arizona desert weakening him. The blast of refrigerated air conditioning efficiently cooled the suite, the heat outside sizzling despite the lack of sunlight and the late hour.
Not rising, he stared out the window at the night sky, his hands folded behind his head. Spread ra
ndomly about him were numerous pages of computer documents, each page boldly inscribed with the name of the woman filling his thoughts. He felt a scoundrel, having maneuvered the woman into his office with Duncan's blessing.
He should have known the wizened little man was far too shrewd, sensing his unspoken fascination with the receptionist. He should have known Duncan would remind him of Barbara's upcoming retirement, dangling her soon-to-be-vacant position like a well-baited hook and hinting at Kate's secretarial expertise.
Absently, Dante fingered the folder at his side. The papers were personnel files he obtained from the Human Resource Department. The paperwork furnished him with the information necessary to lure Kate from the Arizona offices.
At the time of her employment, Kathleen Bennett identified one minor dependant. Until recently, she had been legal guardian to a younger brother. Adam Bennett was six years his sister's junior and, presently, attended a local university. She lacked any romantic entanglements and, if Grace Sanchez were reliable, she endured the most horrible of titles among her co-workers.
Miss Prim and Proper.
He chuckled at the name, recalling the hungry expression in her eyes when she looked at him. There was nothing prim or proper about Kathleen Bennett. She was opinionated, brilliant and a seething mass of tightly leashed sexuality. He stifled a frustrated groan before he forced his thoughts to the subject of her brother.
As a boon to Dante's carefully contrived plan, he arranged a call to the university. Adam Bennett had an exceptional grade point average, reveled in genealogy, and was a self-confessed Anglophile.
The only individual Kate imagined holding her back was the one who would eagerly pack her traveling bags, purchase her camera, and send her on her merry way.
Chapter Four
Kate eased the leased car to a halt before the stone façade of the county building, turning the ignition off as the wheels bumped against the high curb. As she peered out the windshield, she imagined the building had witnessed the brutality of every rainstorm in the last two hundred years, the granite stones blemished by the passage of time. Squinting, she read the tarnished brass plaque proclaiming the building as a library and sighed, sitting back in the driver's seat. A groan escaped her and she rubbed the tightness at the nape of her neck, numerous muscles aching in protest at the cramped position of the past few hours.
Kate promised Adam a complete report of her journey, detailed with photographs and notes. She smiled, knowing her brother would love the locale, as she stepped from the car and slammed the door shut. Her smile broadened as she looked up at the grim visage of the building before leaping up the stone steps.
Swinging the great doors open, she inhaled a scent belonging exclusively to leather bound books before she approached an imposing desk. An elderly man, his features hidden by the local paper he was reading, sat at the highly polished counter.
“Excuse me.” She began, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to another.
“Aye?” A gruff voice answered from behind the paper.
“Could you help me?”
“That as it may be….”
“I imagine this is the local library?” She queried, trying to mask her sarcasm with a tight smile.
Still, the paper didn't move.
“American, eh?”
Kate forced herself to remain calm, hearing the rudeness in the man's voice. She thought, after so many years in the workplace, she was capable of handling any attitude.
“Yes, I'm an American.” She answered calmly, hoping he wouldn't look at her. Kate had been lectured on her expressive features years ago, being told more could be read in her face than by what she said. If he looked at her now, she thought ungraciously, England might declare war against the colonies.
“What be you looking for, lass.” The disembodied voice asked. “We're just a small shire and don't get many visitors.”
If they all have manners like yours, little wonder.
“I'm looking for information on the town's history, from around the late seventeenth and early eighteen hundreds.” Kate provided, remembering the drill of items Adam insisted she research. Most of the information was on the Internet but he insisted on a hands-on approach, wanting everything cross-referenced. “Would you have county lists or census records?”
“Aye, I would.” He responded easily. “Anything else, the cleric would have. Is there any family in particular?”
“Lanes or Bennett?”
“Lanes?” He mused aloud, not glancing up from his paper “We've Lanes living here for nigh on three hundred years.”
Kate exhaled a deep sigh of relief, thoroughly pleased with the information. “Where could I find any particular information about the family?”
Her question brought the paper down with a disgruntled snap, and she stared into a face that reminded her of a gargoyle. The elderly man had a balding sphere for a head and a large beak like nose. He wore thick reading glasses; the lenses resembled opaque bottoms of bottles. The shrewd eyes appeared enormous, flying open with shock.
Nervously, Kate's hand went to her hair and she threaded her fingers through the windswept locks. Realizing the futility of the action, she stopped and rested her hands on the desktop.
“Do you have the books, sir?”
He gulped loudly, the protruding largeness of his Adam's apple bobbing in the thin column of his wrinkled throat. He rose and stepped around the desk.
“My lady, if you'll permit me, I will find the necessary books.” He escorted her to a table near the arched windows and pulled a chair out. As she took the offered seat, he shuffled off, disappearing around a solid bookcase. He returned a few moments later with a heavy tome bound in thick leather.
“This is it?” Kate asked, barely able to contain her eagerness. She was rewarded a tight-lipped smile and nod as he placed the book on the table.
“This should have what you're seeking, my lady. If not, feel free to seek me out.”
“I'll do that.” She managed, her cold fingers tracing the embellished binding.
The aged librarian nodded and shuffled to his desk, his steps painfully slow. Had Kate taken the time to look up from the yellowed and fragile papers, she would have seen him reach for the archaic telephone.
Elliot Jamison, with the speed of a younger man, dialed the telephone number committed to his memory. Impatiently, he fidgeted, listening to the distorted ringing at the other end.
“Pick up, damn you.” He grumbled beneath his breath, his attention focused on the woman's red hair. Fervently, he prayed she wouldn't turn about to see his agitation. He feared, if he chose to hang up, the woman would calmly walk outside and disappear into the quickly converging twilight. “Damn it, lad, pick up!”
“Ravensmoor.” The great booming voice interrupted and Jamison exhaled a healthy sigh. Trust the man to answer his lines on Saturdays, not like the other nabobs. The young earl sent most of his staff home for the weekend, preferring a more solitary lifestyle than one of constant comfort and pampering.
“Milord, this is….”
“Jamison.” The voice interrupted with a tinge of humor. “I would recognize your voice anywhere, man.”
“Aye, you would.” Elliot snapped in irritation.
“What is it, Jamison?” The stilted tone dripped with a haughtiness obtained from centuries of breeding.
“My lord, in the library….” The words tumbled in an excited rush from the old man’s mouth, his agitation obvious. “Ravensmoor….”
“Yes?”
“Ravensmoor,” Jamison pronounced the name reverently before sinking into his chair. “Are you expecting a visitor?”
“Perhaps.” Dante provided evasively.
“An American?”
“Jamison, that's not an unusual occurrence.”
“Begging your pardon, sir, but you don't understand.” Jamison interrupted with an obvious lack of apology. During the last Great War, he had served the young man's grandfather, and knew he overstepped boundaries
with the interruption.
“Oh, I understand fully. An American has entered your library and has caused you to suffer, oh, what's the appropriate word? Tizzy?” The deep voice held the dimmest touch of aggravation. “Tell me, does he have a pair of those horrendous leather trousers with the chains swinging to his knees, a safety pin in his nose, or a multi-colored hair style? Better yet, could he have all three?”
“This American's appearance is, precisely, the reason I summoned you.”
An exasperated sigh echoed in his ear. “Yes?”
“A striking American lady is in my library.” He suppressed a chuckle of amusement. “Rather, I believe the Raven's Lady has returned.”
“What did you say?” The strength of the strident voice diminished perceptibly.
“The portrait,” Jamison hissed. “The very image of the lady is here.”
“Kate? Are you certain?”
“As I live and breathe, Ravensmoor.” Jamison remained silent, anxiously awaiting the other's instructions.
“There isn't a doubt?” The tone was desperate.
“I was a trusted aide and confidant to your grandfather for many years, boy.” He stressed. “I've seen the portrait and could never mistake the young lady for another. She's sitting not more than five meters from me.”
“It can't be.”
“My sight hasn't left me yet, Ravensmoor, no disrespect intended. It's your lady.” Jamison mouthed the words into the receiver. “I believe she's returned to Colinwood.”
“Keep her there, Jamison. Do anything to stop her from leaving.”
“I've given her enough to keep her preoccupied until closing.” He chuckled, pleased.
“Make certain of the fact, Jamison.” Dante barked imperiously.
***
Kate shuddered as the library doors flew open, the action admitting a great gust of chill fall air as footsteps echoed on the polished floor. She didn't look up from the books and wrapped her arms about herself, longing for the jacket in the truck of the rented mini. She couldn't bring herself to leave the ancient building, though, even for the briefest second. She feared the librarian would steal the books she was examining and return them to some obscure place on the shelves.
My Lord Raven (The Ravensmoor Saga) Page 5