LITMIR.BIZ

      Dear Reader,

      Some characters you never forget.

      Some stories grip you from the first word, locked deep in the heart. For me, that love struck with a great gray cat, a brooding English abbey and its aristocratic guardian ghost, Adrian Draycott.

      I’ve walked through eight books and two novellas set at the abbey now. Each story brings more secrets and the heady scent of rich heritage roses climbing up tower and parapet.

      Dangerous magic.

      White-hot passion.

      Undying love.

      How could any writer resist?

      And just to keep the tension hot, I’ve brought a rugged Navy SEAL from my Code Name series to the abbey, locked in pursuit of a vicious enemy.

      I hope you enjoy the adventure.

      See you at the abbey.

      Christina

      CONTENTS

      ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

      PROLOGUE

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHAPTER TWO

      CHAPTER THREE

      CHAPTER FOUR

      CHAPTER FIVE

      CHAPTER SIX

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      CHAPTER EIGHT

      CHAPTER NINE

      CHAPTER TEN

      CHAPTER ELEVEN

      CHAPTER TWELVE

      CHAPTER THIRTEEN

      CHAPTER FOURTEEN

      CHAPTER FIFTEEN

      CHAPTER SIXTEEN

      CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

      CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

      CHAPTER NINETEEN

      CHAPTER TWENTY

      CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

      CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

      CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

      CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

      CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

      CHAPTER-TWENTY-SIX

      CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

      CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

      CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

      CHAPTER THIRTY

      CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

      CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

      CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

      CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

      CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

      CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

      CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

      CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

      EPILOGUE

      AUTHOR NOTE

      Acknowledgments

      In a world where distances loom large and the handling of books can become vastly impersonal, one group of people makes a daily, hourly difference in the reading experience.

      It is my greatest pleasure to thank those extraordinary people here. I refer to all the extraordinary booksellers who cherish and protect the children of a writer’s heart.

      You know who you are. But you may not realize how far your influence extends and how deeply you touch the lives of readers every day.

      I hope you will accept my heartfelt thanks for all the thousand things you do to care for every new book you unpack from a box or straighten on a shelf.

      I also want to send a special nod to Cindi in Wisconsin, Ellen in New Jersey, Sharon in Pennsylvania, Marcy and Tom in Oregon, Beth Anne in Colorado, Sharon in Ohio, Rosemary and Margaret in Australia, Kellie in Hawaii, Terry in Chicago, Penny and Janet in Indiana, Molly in Louisiana, and Phyllis, Kathy and Vicky in Arizona.

      You are all totally amazing.

      That’s why this one’s for you.

      PROLOGUE

      Draycott Abbey

      Sussex, England

      May 1622

      THE BOOK WAS THE KEY.

      All its dangerous secrets lay inside fragile yellow pages. He had to hide these secrets now, while twelve guests slumbered over their spilled port, with wigs askew. Their sleep would not hold forever, and he must act before their greed and suspicion returned.

      In the shadows across the elegant room, the Earl of Wetherton mumbled in drunken dreams, his heavy goblet cracking as his wrist sent the glass flying to the floor.

      Motionless, Viscount Draycott studied the ornate walls of the house he knew and loved beyond all logic. As the last candle guttered out, the cynical aristocrat stood in a bar of moonlight, cradling a fine leather book. The weight of history pressed down, filling him with excitement.

      And finally with dread.

      Such a treasure, a notebook from the hand of Leonardo da Vinci, carried too many secrets. According to the man who had lost the notebook, it was cursed. Equally cursed was the exquisite piece of art now hidden upstairs in his suite. But the memory of the luminous beauty of the art made the viscount forget the danger.

      A sudden movement at the drifting curtains made him slip back into the shadows. Who came in stealth through the darkness?

      But the figure was only a great gray cat, slipping up the stairs with black-tipped paws, as quiet as the night. Behind the cat the viscount saw a new maidservant, her eyes wide as she crossed the hall,

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