LITMIR.BIZ

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flame, and maybe something roasting on a spit, crowded her mind. “How strange to think that your ancestors have lived here since the day it was built.”

      “They haven’t.” He stared up at a carved crest above the fireplace. “Gaylord Drummond lost the whole estate in a game of dice in the eighteenth century. That’s how some of the Drummonds ended up in America. He gambled and drank away everything they owned except the one mysterious cup everyone’s so excited about, so his three sons took off for the untamed shores of the New World to make their fortunes. There they apparently split up the cup and each took a piece, vowing to reunite it one day.” His stony gaze still rested on the chiseled stone.

      “And one of them ended up back here.”

      “He made a killing in beaver pelts up in Canada.”

      “Poor beavers.”

      “They used to make hats out of their fur. Very waterproof, apparently. He made his fortune, then sailed back here and bought the place from the son of the farmer who had won it from his father.”

      “And presumably he brought his piece of the cup with him.”

      James shrugged. “Can’t say I care one way or the other.”

      “You’re terrible. It’s a part of your family history.”

      “I keep this pile going. That’s my contribution to the family history. Maybe I should start playing dice. Losing it would save me a fortune.”

      “You don’t mean that.”

      “Not really.” He finally looked at her, and again his gray gaze stole her breath. “Though sometimes I wish I did.”

      She thought she saw emotion somewhere behind his stony facade. How could you not feel a powerful sense of history—even destiny—while standing in such an ancient and dramatic space? If she could feel it, she knew ancestral pride must beat somewhere in James Drummond’s cold heart. She could hardly imagine being heir to such a kingdom even if, by today’s standards, it was rather remote and unpopulated.

      She drew in a long breath and stared about her. “I think it’s magical.”

      His attention focused on her again, its icy blast like a laser. Did he suddenly suspect her of trying to worm her way into his affections so she could be mistress of this place? Women must have been trying for decades. She regretted her cheesy enthusiasm, and managed a casual shrug. “But I can see how a condo near Orchard Road would be easier to maintain.”

      He laughed. “Unquestionably.” His eyes narrowed and she felt herself under scrutiny again. For a split second his gaze seemed to scan her body like an unemotional piece of precision equipment, but somehow it left her nipples tingling, her belly quivering and her knees shaky.

      She wheeled around. Maybe if she couldn’t see him he’d have less power over her. It was infuriating how a simple glance from him sent her pulse racing. He was her enemy, for crying out loud. Perhaps he brought all his potential conquests here to astonish them with his family grandeur and made them swoon into his arms.

      “So, where’s the cup?” She walked farther away from him, trying to sound nonchalant.

      “Your guess is as good as mine.”

      “Hardly. You know where the nooks and crannies are.” There didn’t even seem to be any that she could see. Though there were some battered wooden doors along one wall. “You know, the places where they locked up their enemies and left them for dead?”

      “Oubliettes are more of a French thing. We Scots prefer to slit their throats in broad daylight then have a party.”

      She had to laugh. “A simple folk.”

      “Yes. Reporters have accused me of similar behavior in my business dealings.” Humor glittered in his cool gaze.

      She cursed the way her heart fluttered. He’d just admitted that he was a ruthless bastard! How could she still be attracted to him? She should be worried about her own sanity. “Do you think they’re right?” She tried to maintain a steely stare.

      “Maybe.” He turned and strode across the room, leaving her standing there, heart pounding and unspoken words crowding her brain.

      You stole my father’s business and left him penniless and devastated. She had to keep a cool head until she figured out how to get it back. She couldn’t let him know that she was on the side of those who despised him. “I guess that’s just business, huh?”

      He wheeled around, and she was surprised to see a half smile on his face. “It’s a relief to talk to someone who understands.”

      She blinked. Okay. She’d opened this trapdoor and fallen in all by herself. “I haven’t had to slit any throats yet.”

      He laughed. “You’re still young.”

      “Not really.” How arrogant of him. He was only a few years older than she. “I have plenty of life experience.”

      Laughter danced in his eyes. “Of course you do.”

      She wanted to slap him. “I started my first business when I was twelve.”

      “A lemonade stand?”

      “Buying old computers and reselling them for scrap.” She lifted her chin. “Much more profitable than squeezing lemons.” No need to mention she’d had the lemonade stand, too.

      He moved closer to her. Which was unsettling considering that they had about an acre of space around them. “I started my first business at eleven.”

      “Competitive, aren’t you?” She raised a brow. All the tiny hairs on her body stood on end, prickling with awareness as he moved even closer.

      “Very. Some have even said it will be my downfall.”

      Maybe sooner than you think. “What was your first business?”

      “I bought wholesale chocolate bars and resold them to the desperate souls at my boarding school.”

      “A captive audience.”

      “The best kind.” His shoulders were broad, almost straining against the elegant cut of his shirt. The great room was cool, but she could feel her body temperature spiking as he shifted his stance. His gray gaze rested right on her face, thoughtful, daring her to argue with him.

      She straightened her own shoulders and raised herself to her full height, which unfortunately was a good half a foot less than his. “Is it hard to find a captive audience these days?”

      “Not at all.” He held her gaze for a heartbeat. “Everyone’s captive in one way or another.”

      “Are you?” Had he moved closer? She didn’t see him move his feet, but he was now so near she could lift her hand and touch him. His male scent—expensive wool and subtle musk—tickled her senses. Her nipples now strained against her bra, and she hoped he didn’t notice.

      “Absolutely.” His voice was a low growl that took her by surprise, but not as much as the way he stepped in, lifted her chin deftly with his fingers and pressed his lips softly to hers.

      Electric voltage zapped through her. Her body temperature shot skyward as his tongue touched hers. I’m kissing James Drummond.

      She felt the weight of his palms settle on her lower back. Her breath now came in unsteady gasps, and her hands crept up to his torso and fisted themselves in his shirt.

       This man is a beast. He chews people up and spits them out. He just confessed as much!

      His low moan in her ear made her desire surge. Her fingers dug into his hard back. His rough skin created pleasurable friction against her cheek as he shifted the angle of the kiss and plunged deeper, making her arch her back and lean into his arms.

      Uh-oh. Instead of fighting him off, she gripped him tighter and kissed him back with all the strength

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