A Trap So Tender

by Jennifer Lewis

  She made sure not to reveal too much riding skill. Even giggled and pretended to drop the reins when Taffy reached for some grass by the side of the drive. After about five minutes of walking past scenic castle vistas, the horses were nicely warmed up and she had a feel for the lovely Taffy.

  That’s when they passed through one more gate and a solid mile of open fields stretched out before them like a racetrack. “Shall we let them stretch their legs?” She spoke innocently.

  “Um.” James looked doubtfully at the pair of them. She must appear to be very tiny up on Taffy, who was the biggest horse she’d ever sat on, at least eighteen hands. “Okay. You lead the way.”

  No doubt so he could come scoop her up when she fell off. She smiled secretly as she passed him. Then she gathered up her reins and urged Taffy into a collected trot. When she was sure the horse was listening to her and understood that she knew what she was doing, she sat down and squeezed with her legs. As anticipated, Taffy shifted gears like a finely tuned Bentley, easing into a steady canter, then an active one. She rose out of the saddle as Taffy opened up into a gallop, and realized she was grinning from ear to ear for reasons that had nothing to do with James, as the wind whipped her face and the landscape flew by in a green blur.

  This was fun!

  Four

  James had planned to keep to a walk. He’d deliberately chosen Dougal, who was recovering from a tendon injury and needed to be eased back into work. Fiona was small and slight, and just because she’d gone on a beach ride once in her life did not mean she could ride. She looked rather precarious up on Taffy, whose powerful build was outmatched only by her gentle, forgiving nature. In her fashionable skinny jeans and white designer loafers, Fiona looked as if she should be strolling along a quay somewhere, not climbing astride a massive beast, but she kept smiling and managed to adjust her stirrups and girth like someone who knew what she was doing.

  He kept things at a slow pace, which wasn’t easy with poor, wound-up Dougal desperate to blow off some steam. He probably should have taken a quieter horse, but he knew Dougal needed the workout.

  Then Fiona took off. Staring wide-eyed, he watched after her, struggling passionately with Dougal, who wanted nothing more than to blast off after her but could not be allowed to because of his healing tendon. Rearing and throwing himself around, Dougal kept James fully occupied for a solid five minutes, until he heard the drumbeat of Taffy’s hooves returning back toward him. He looked up, already reaching for his phone to call for help, sure the horse would be riderless. But that wasn’t the case.

  “You’re alive.” Relief crashed through him. Fiona’s face shone, cheeks pink and lips reddened by the wind. Taffy was panting and blowing, stretching her neck down.

  “I’ve fallen in love.”

  “Really?” He blinked, still struggling with Dougal, who had now wound himself into a frenzy. He was almost tempted to shout that he was in love, too. That kiss kept slamming back into his mind, which didn’t help matters. Things couldn’t get much crazier than they already were, and Fiona was like a blast of cool, fresh air in his rather predictable existence.

  “Taffy is a horse in a million. She listens to every move you make.”

  He laughed. Okay. So she wasn’t in love with him. Was he disappointed? He wanted to slap himself. “I know. That’s why I chose her for you. She also ignores any stupid moves you make, but that doesn’t seem to be important in your case.” He scanned the horse and rider. She sat effortlessly on her huge mount, with a casual loose rein, as if she was lounging in a beach chair. “I admit I hadn’t expected you to be so…competent.”

  “I know.” She laughed. “You expected me to slide off when we started trotting, didn’t you?”

  “Absolutely.” He grinned. “But I’m glad you didn’t. Dougal is recovering from an injury, so he and I are devastated that we can’t join you in another gallop.”

  “Maybe another time.” Her chin lifted and her face shining, she looked ravishingly beautiful, even in the black velvet riding hat that didn’t flatter too many people.

  “Definitely.” In fact, he wasn’t sure he could wait until tomorrow. “But perhaps for now we could stay together in a steady trot so poor Dougal doesn’t bow another tendon.”

  “You’ve got it.” She eased into a trot, and he watched her elegant behind rise up and down in the saddle, with the feeling that his tongue was hanging out like a dog’s. Fiona Lam was turning out to be different than he expected. Was that good? He wasn’t sure. He’d been instantly attracted to her, and that had grown into a rich and invigorating lust during the hours they’d spent together thus far.

  She’d seemed a good prospect as a partner, as she was intelligent and appeared sensible. Her blend of Singaporean and American background held its own appeal, from a purely business perspective, since she bridged the two cultures where most of his business took place, and where he sometimes ran aground when his own very British upbringing put him at a disadvantage. Sometimes he didn’t “get” other people’s opinions and perspectives, and it made him realize how narrow the horizons he’d been raised with truly were.

  So far Fiona’s visit was a blistering success. He’d better make sure that cup base didn’t turn up anytime soon as he had no intention of losing her. Not that they were likely to find it anyway. It had probably been melted down into a weapon or used as a target for shooting practice, knowing the Drummond clan. If it did happen to turn up, he could find some other way to delay her. She certainly seemed to be enjoying herself so far.

  She slowed her trot and let him come alongside her. “I don’t understand you at all.”

  “No?”

  “You could do this every day, and you choose to live in a high-rise apartment in one of the most crowded cities on earth.”

  “I must be mad.”

  He’d brought women here before—they often clamored to come see the ancestral pile—and most of them spent their time complaining about the weather or wondering where the nearest good shopping was (answer: a very long way away). Fiona, on the other hand, had dived right into the spirit of the place.

  “I think you are mad. That’s okay, though. We’re all mad in our own special way.” She rode alongside him, grinning from ear to ear. “I’m beginning to think I’ve been crazy to spend so much of the past five years hunched over a laptop. I definitely need to spread my wings a bit.”

  “You’ve earned the right.” She’d made more in her first five years out of college than most people made in a lifetime.

  “I suppose I have. I never looked at it that way. I feel like a slacker when I’m not working on my next big plan.”

  “Believe me, I know all about that. I don’t think I’ve taken a legitimate vacation in…” Had he ever taken one? He didn’t even remember a ski trip that didn’t have some ulterior business partnership motive. “A while.”

  “It appears that we have a lot in common.”

  “Yes.” Desire snapped between them like the brisk hilltop wind. Thoughts of kissing her crowded his mind and made it hard to stay focused on Dougal’s antics. Would it be so wrong if they made love tonight? The attraction was obviously mutual. They’d known each other more than twenty-four hours and had already spent one night under the same roof.

  “Why are you laughing?” Her eyes sparkled and her hair whipped around her riding helmet.

  “I don’t know. I must be drunk on fresh air.” He did feel giddy, possibilities swirling in his mind. Could he have found the right woman to marry? Of course he didn’t love her or anything dramatic like that. He was far too sensible to let his emotions run amok. You didn’t own a two-billion-dollar business if you let anything rule you other than a cool head. But his calculating mind was spitting out projections that made time with Fiona look like a very promising investment.

  “Me, too.” A drizzle of rain had joined the stiff wind and glossed her cheeks. Most women he knew would be squinting against it and worrying about their hairdo. Fiona tipped back her head and
let the mist kiss her skin.

  He had every intention of kissing her himself, as soon as possible. “We’d better go back. I think Dougal has had enough excitement for one morning.”

  “Of course. I’m dying to see more of the castle now that I’ve had a good night’s sleep and my brain is functioning again. I barely even remember what happened yesterday.”

  He wanted to laugh again. That kiss was so fresh in his mind he could almost taste it. Was she trying to claim she was so addled by travel and lack of sleep that it had happened by accident? Strangely, that fueled his desire to seduce her all over again. He could rarely resist a challenge. “I wish I could race you back.”

  “I’d win.” Confidence shone in her face, brighter than her wind-slapped pink cheeks.

  “I know these horses a lot better than you. Maybe I deliberately gave you the slower one.”

  “I’m sure you did, but I’d win anyway.”

  “How?” Dougal started dancing under him, probably sensing his fierce desire to take her up on the challenge right this minute.

  “Sheer determination. It will get you almost anything if you have enough of it.”

  He laughed. “We’ll have to put that to the test.”

  “I’m looking forward to it.”

  So was he. She might think she could beat him, but that was only because he’d given her room to make that mistake. No one ever got the best of James Drummond unless he wanted them to for some strategic purpose of his own. If she beat him it was because he’d let her, for reasons she might never guess.

  What would she think if she knew that he was planning their wedding? A grand affair in the old chapel on the estate, with guests flown in from all over the world. Then an ostentatious party in Singapore to woo future business partners and impress them with his new “family man” status. He’d plan and execute the entire affair like the rollout of a new business. Fiona Lam would have no idea what hit her.

  * * *

  The exhilarating morning ride left Fiona buzzing with excitement. She couldn’t wait to do it again. Sadness sneaked in around the edges of her pleasure, since this adventure—like her mini-affair with James—would be short-lived. For a few brief seconds, astride her powerful and generous horse, she’d allowed herself to imagine what it would feel like if this was her real life. Her imagination had gone galloping off with her, and she’d had to reel it harshly back in. She was hardly cut out to be lady of a Scottish manor, and the locals would no doubt be appalled that a girl with no pedigree whatsoever had usurped their laird.

  She wanted to laugh. She was planning to usurp their laird. No one here would ever even know about it, though. She’d get that factory back and disappear quietly to another part of the world. No one outside the insular business community of Singapore would ever even notice it had happened. For James it would be a small business plan gone sour, and soon forgotten. He’d forget her quickly enough, too.

  She swallowed. How odd to know the ending of this story when it had barely started.

  They spent the afternoon walking the halls of the older parts of the castle, through surprisingly small rooms with flagstone floors and plastered walls. “Where’s all the stuff?”

  “What stuff?” James had changed into dark pants and a pale striped shirt that added to his patrician air.

  “The furniture, knick-knacks, you know. It doesn’t look like anyone ever lived here.”

  “I suppose my ancestors probably gambled it all away or sold it off. Don’t forget old uncle Gaylord, who lost the place in a card game. Maybe the person who won it put everything on the auction block.”

  “What a shame.” The room they were in had a single high window, almost above eye level, which gave it the air of a prison cell. “It’s part of your family history.”

  “The history exists regardless of whether there’s a bunch of old junk here.” He pointed to a dark soot stain on the ceiling. “Someone probably sat here reading by candlelight.”

  “Or sewing.”

  “Or gambling away their last shilling.” His mischievous grin tickled her insides.

  “Or plotting revenge on their enemies.”

  “Or making love.” His eyes narrowed slightly, thoughtful.

  “You don’t need light for that,” she said quietly. The atmosphere thickened.

  “True. Just a soft surface.” A tiny smile pulled at his mouth.

  “If even that.” She tried to act much cooler than she felt. Her imagination was scampering off in all directions. James Drummond spread-eagled on the flagstone floor, half-naked and whispering her name. James Drummond pressing her up against the plastered wall, breathing in her ear. “Maybe they weren’t as picky as we are.”

  James stepped toward her and kissed her in one swift movement. Her breath and thoughts fled for parts unknown as his lips closed over hers. He tasted delicious, intoxicating as a fine Scotch whiskey, even though they hadn’t drank a drop at lunch. His arms circled her torso, holding her close in a very romantic way. No groping or fondling—more’s the pity, since her fingers now pressed into the muscle of his back and itched to roam farther afield.

  When he pulled back she opened her eyes, blinking in the bright light coming through the high window. “Was that some kind of historical reenactment?” She didn’t know what to say and just wanted to fill the air with sound to break the thick tension that had gathered.

  “It’s history now, but the future will be here before we know it.” He tilted his head slightly, regarding her through narrowed, storm-gray eyes. His arms still held her, and the desire to break free warred with the urge to clutch him closer. What was she doing? Could this lead anywhere good?

  Oh, yes, some dark, selfish and lustful part of her brain answered. Somewhere very good. James’s bed, for a start.

  She’d been so wrapped up in her business lately she’d had little time for socializing. The publicity leading up to the sale of Smileworks had scared all but her oldest and closest friends into being intimidated by her, and the fact that it had sold for more than her wildest dreams hadn’t helped one bit.

  She blinked again. James was far too good-looking for his own good or anyone else’s. How was a girl supposed to keep her cool around him?

  She wished she could give her dad some money and he could buy himself a new factory. Then she wouldn’t have to worry about getting the old one back from James. Her dad wouldn’t take money. She knew it. He’d be angry and feel as if she was lording it over him. He was proud to a fault, and then some. She didn’t care though. It just made her want to try harder to make him happy. She was proud, too, one of the many traits she’d inherited from him.

  Which made it rather awkward to stand here wrapped in James Drummond’s powerful arms. She wondered if anyone had ever kissed their enemy before in this very room.

  Quite probably. “What does the future hold?” She looked into his face, which wasn’t easy since he was more than half a head taller than her.

  “I’m no fortune-teller.” Those dark eyes seemed to peer into her soul, which shrank from their penetrating gaze. “I can only see what’s right in front of me.”

  Then he kissed her again, harder this time. Stars flashed behind her eyelids—simple chemistry, nothing more, she reassured herself. Thick, hot lust surged inside her. Again, just chemistry. And that was the only thing making her fingers creep lower, toward the waistband of his pants, where she was absolutely not going to grope the well-muscled backside she’d enjoyed such impressive views of during their ride that morning.

  He was deliberately seducing her. His lips trailed over her cheek, leaving her skin hot and flushed. His fingers now skated up and down her spine. His hips jutted toward her, and she could feel his arousal thick and hard behind the civilized veneer of clothing.

  A civilized veneer that was in real danger of being ripped right off.

  “Stop!” She squeaked the word as she managed to pull back from the kiss.

  “You don’t mean that.” His voice was low, thro
aty, his gaze amused.

  You’re right, I don’t. “I’ve just met you. I’m here as your prisoner—I mean, your guest—and things are moving too fast.”

  “My prisoner?” A dark brow rose slightly.

  “Freudian slip.” She lifted her chin, which helped her see eye to eye with him. Why did he have to be so tall? “But you have to admit that I can’t easily escape.”

  “So much the better.” His arms still held firm around her waist.

  “Is this how you treat all your guests?” Frustrated desire snapped through her like stray current, making her edgy. She didn’t like the way he could just pick her up and play with her as if she were a toy. And she especially didn’t like the way she responded so instantly and totally.

  “No. Only the pretty ones.”

  “Then your reputation is well earned.”

  He froze. She felt his hands still and his muscles grow hard. Her own chest constricted as she realized that she’d revealed too much. She wasn’t supposed to know anything about him. “What do you know of my reputation?”

  “I did ask around before volunteering to travel several thousand miles to stay with a virtual stranger.” Good save. Of course that’s what any sensible person would do.

  “But apparently you came anyway.” His fierce gaze made her stomach clench.

  “I’m not afraid of a…rake.”

  He laughed. “A rake? What is this, the eighteenth century?”

  “I couldn’t think of a more polite word. Okay, how about a playa?”

  He grinned. “I’m not sure anyone’s called me that, either. And I’m not the playboy that people make out. I never, ever date more than one woman at a time.”

  “So why haven’t you ever married?” She couldn’t resist re-asking the bold question. It was the perfect moment to dig a little deeper beneath James’s cool facade. And his tormenting arms were no longer wrapped around her, so she could breathe again. “I know you said you haven’t met the right woman, but I know there’s more to it than that. And since I’m apparently already on your embarrassing list of statistics, you might as well tell me.”