A Trap So Tender (11 page)

“That’s for me to know and you to find out while it’s
happening.”

“What if I don’t like surprises?”

“I already know you better than that.” His mouth looked
unbearably kissable. “That’s why you’re coming with me.” He threaded his arm
through hers and marched her out through the glittering foyer.

His driver whisked them back to his penthouse in record
time.

“Should I be seen coming up to your place before the wedding?”
She glanced around at the empty street as they drove up to the apartment
complex.

“Definitely not. That’s why I told Al to park inside. We’ll
take the internal elevator up.” His seductive smile tugged at his lips.

“You’re a bad influence.”

“Sorry.” He didn’t sound at all contrite.

Her skin tingled with the prospect of having James’s hands on
it. And damn, but she was curious to get a closer look at where and how he
lived. She’d seen the Scottish place he inherited, but this was the castle he’d
chosen for himself and she’d only had a small glimpse of it her first time
here.

On her first visit she’d come through the lobby, but this time
they took an elevator from the enclosed car park that opened directly into his
apartment. The soaring space looked out over the harbor, where lights twinkled
on the water. The floor was a smooth, honed marble and the furnishings sleek and
modern but ­comfortable-looking. A grand piano stood near the window. “Do
you play?” She walked toward it. Wow, it was a Steinway, probably over a hundred
years old, and worth… She couldn’t even imagine. Her fingers itched to touch the
ivory keys.

“A little.”

“Will you play something for me?”

“All right.” He shrugged off his suit jacket and flung it over
a chair, then sat on the elegant piano stool. His fingers skated over the keys,
and then he plunged into a dramatic piece she recognized vaguely. Debussy,
maybe? His powerful hands seemed to span the keyboard effortlessly, and music
from the magnificent instrument filled the air.

Great. One more reason James Drummond was too good to be true.
He ended with a flourish. “Would you like to try?”

“Uh, sure.” She sat down and acted as if she was about to play
chopsticks. Then she tested the first few keys of her favorite sonata. She
glanced at James. He was grinning. “Go on. You’re far too competitive not to top
my performance.” His voice was gruff with pleasure.

She laughed. “You do know me well, but unfortunately you’ll be
hard to outdo.” She let her fingers flow over the keys, and closed her eyes as
the music drifted around her. The piece seemed to play itself, sound swelling
through her whole body and filling the room. When she’d finished she opened her
eyes as if waking from a dream.

“Not bad.” His eyes sparkled. He extended a hand and she took
it as she stood, feeling even sadder that she wasn’t marrying James and his
incredible piano. “As I suspected, you could probably have a career as a concert
pianist. Now, preliminaries aside, let’s head for the bedroom.”

She laughed. “You’re a hard man to argue with, James
Drummond.”

His bedroom was very large, with a low platform bed covered
with a plush white duvet. A contrast of soft and hard, much like its handsome
owner.

They undressed each other slowly, savoring every moment as
anticipation built in the air. “It feels like a year since I’ve touched you
properly.” James’s voice was husky.

“At least a year.” Her skin hummed under his fingers. How many
more encounters would they have before James knew the truth about her and hated
her? Her heart ached with regret for things that hadn’t even happened yet.

But that didn’t dim her desire to press her body against his
and drink in his warm, masculine scent. His arms circled around her waist and
made her feel strangely protected.

Which was ridiculous. Some primeval instincts kicked in
whenever James was around and short-­circuited all common sense. His warm
breath brushed her cheek and sent a thrill of arousal through her. She loved how
tall he was, the broadness of his chest, the strong jut of his jaw. There was
something so noble about him—entirely aside from his noble ancestry—that made
her feel very feminine.

He kissed her, and that familiar rush of excitement rose inside
her. How would she manage when this was all over? Would anyone ever kiss her
like this again? She felt her breathing quicken as a growing sense of panic
mixed with her desire.

“I want you.” It seemed safe to say that. The words sounded
noncommittal, purely sexual, a confession of desire. But behind them hid a
deeper well of longing. She did want James. She wanted to be with him, to talk
to him, to touch him, to make love. If things had been different, who knows?
They might have had a future together.

At least they had this moment, happening right now in all its
complex and breathless glory. She unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off, then
licked the contours of his chest. He unzipped her dress and tugged it gently
over her head, then painted invisible decorations on her breasts and belly with
his tongue.

Her whole body felt alive with sensation. James was a very
deliberate lover, both careful and creative, much the way he must be in
business. He sought out her magic buttons with determination and pressed them in
ways that made her cry out and sigh and beg him to stop—and not to stop.

She loved the salty taste of his skin, the slight roughness of
his hair and the hard, masculine ridges of his muscles. She searched for his
secret erogenous zones and was rewarded with deep groans and sharp gasps when
she discovered a new one. Her competitive instincts compelled her to drive him
even more wild and crazy than he’d driven her, and the results were impressive
and addictive. They were both ready to ­explode—or implode—by the time he
entered her, but they managed to prolong the delicious agony for just the right
amount of time before finally letting go.

She had
never
had sex like
this.

Fiona had never felt so well matched with a partner. James’s
driven and meticulous nature suited her own so perfectly. Maybe they were meant
to be together, and all these other things—the factory, her dad, the missing
cup—were mere distractions on the road to them living happily ever after. When
they lay together in each other’s arms, it seemed impossible that something so
trivial as a business deal could separate them.

Maybe she really did need to find that damn cup fragment to
break the curse hanging over the Drummonds and pave the way for James’s future
to blend happily with her own. She wanted him to be happy. She wanted herself to
be happy. Perhaps she could just come clean with him about the factory and make
a deal to buy it from him so her dad could be happy, too.

But then he’d figure out all her angles. He’d know she had an
agenda and react with disgust and she’d lose it all. At least if she persisted
with her original plan she’d end up being closer to her dad, which was of course
her primary goal.

“Oh, James.” It was so strange to rest her head on his chest
while all these crazy, treacherous thoughts scrambled through her brain. And she
didn’t know what was running around in
his
brain.
She knew he wasn’t marrying her for love, but for some reasons of his own. There
was nothing natural and organic about their courtship. It had all the hallmarks
of a high-stakes merger.

He stroked her hair, and her thoughts drifted away again. If
only she could make this moment last for a month, or a year. She just wanted to
rest awhile and inhale the scent of his skin.

But she wasn’t cut out for resting. “That old factory
building…” The words crept out of her mouth almost of their own accord.

“The one we walked past?”

“Yes.” She hoped he wouldn’t notice her heart beating faster.
Or that he’d blame it on the amazing sex.

“How much would you sell that for?”

He laughed, which shook his chest under her cheek. “I
wouldn’t.”

“How about a ridiculous price?”

“The ridiculous price would still be less than what it’s worth
once I develop it. I’ve had my team watching that property and planning the
acquisition for nearly two years. I have a lot of time and energy invested in
it.”

“Oh.” Much as she’d suspected all along. Should she push harder
and possibly reveal her hand? At some point, she had to. “What if I wanted it as
my prize if I win the race?”

She held her breath. She couldn’t see his face from this angle,
but she could imagine his eyes narrowing into his characteristic thoughtful
expression.

“In that case, I could hardly say no.” She heard amusement in
his tone. Probably because he expected to win. Men like James always expected to
win, regardless of the odds. It was probably a key reason why they usually did
win. But she had the advantage of being light, and fiendishly determined.

In not saying no, he’d said
yes.

Maybe she could win the race, give the factory to her dad,
marry James, then live happily ever after and laugh long and loud about the
whole thing. If handled delicately it was possible. He’d already agreed to turn
it over if she won. Now all she had to do was win fair and square.

I want to marry him.
The
realization made her toes curl. She liked this man so much. Loved him? That
could be the strange feeling unfurling in her chest and befuddling her usually
sharp brain. She could easily see them enjoying each other’s company for many
years to come. Maybe his own decisiveness in choosing her as his bride came from
a similar intense conviction that she was the one for him.

She slid up his chest and kissed his mouth, which smiled
beneath her lips.

“You really want that factory?”

She shrugged, pretending to be casual. “I think it would be
perfect for me.”

“You’re on.”

Her heart soared. Suddenly, it seemed as if she could have it
all. The factory, her father’s appreciation and affection, and James—happily
ever after. She always had been lucky. After all, anyone who made as much money
as she had at such a young age was good at pulling rabbits out of hats.

She kissed James again, enjoying the shiver of lust that licked
through her when she tasted him.
She could do
this.

As long as she didn’t look down. Raw nerve, skilled riding and
tight lips. She’d have to pull it all together and make that race the triumph of
a lifetime. No pressure, of course. Just her life and several others hanging in
the balance. In a few more days, her future would be determined, for better or
worse.

Nine

A
n early-morning drizzle had left the
Scottish landscape lush and fragrant. A hazy sun now dried the dew on the castle
walls.

“The horses have had plenty of time to digest their breakfast.”
James glanced at her. “Are you getting cold feet?” He was teasing but also
concerned. The race as they’d planned it would be long, hard and not a little
dangerous. If she wanted to back out he was absolutely fine with it.

He could hardly believe he’d promised to give her that piece of
land as a prize. Part of him knew she wouldn’t win. The other part of him wanted
her to win so he could see what she’d do with it.

“Not at all.” She tilted her chin. “Just want to make sure
they’re ready.”

“I think that will be the least of their problems.” They’d
bandaged their legs for protection from brush and support for their tendons. The
horses were fit and sleek and had been exercised every day that week by the
grooms. “Are you sure you want to ride Taffy? Solomon’s quite a bit faster. He
was bred for racing, whereas Taffy was bred for hunting.”

“That’s why Taffy will give me an edge over the rough country.”
She looked utterly confident, sure she’d win. And maybe she would. His
competitive nature ensured that he’d give her the best run he could. On his
faster horse, and with his knowledge of the countryside, he was almost sure to
beat her, but he admired her ambition to try.

“You have the satellite phone on you?” He wanted to make sure
she could reach help if needed. He intended to stay within earshot of her, but
wanted to be prepared for anything.

“In my inside pocket.” She patted her vest. “Right next to the
rabbit’s foot and the four-leaf clover.”

He laughed. “You don’t seem the superstitious type.”

“You haven’t known me that long. I’m superstitious enough to
know that you can’t beat me with the curse of your ancestors hanging over you.
Maybe it’s part of my strategy to make sure you couldn’t find that cup
piece.”

She took the reins from the groom and mounted Taffy. He watched
with pleasure as her lithe, athletic body settled lightly in the saddle.

“You know I don’t believe in any of that. My life has been
working out just fine with the damned thing missing all these years. Besides,
both my cousins seem to have suddenly found love and happiness without any help
from the cup.” He heaved himself back into the saddle.

“Are these the two cousins who located their missing pieces of
the cup?”

“Yes, but the curse isn’t lifted until all three parts of the
cup are reunited.”

“Hmm. Then I guess they’re doomed to divorce and loneliness
unless we find the piece that’s here in Scotland.”

James frowned as an odd feeling twisted his gut. Maybe it was
apprehension about the race. Solomon shifted his weight and felt restless, and
he patted the horse’s neck to soothe him. Would his cousins—both close in age to
him—avoid the disappointment and disasters of their forebears? He certainly had
no intention of going down that road. That’s why he’d chosen a wife with his
head, not his heart.

Though his heart certainly did beat fast as he watched her take
the lead down the drive in front of him. “Do you remember the route?”

“The entire estate boundary, counterclockwise.”

“It’ll take about five hours.”

“I know. I plan to pace myself.” She looked downright cocky. He
still didn’t know how she’d learned to ride so well. She said she’d done some
endurance rides in the hills of California, but he didn’t imagine they’d give
her too much preparation for the rugged Scottish landscape. Or the Scottish
weather. “Did you pack a raincoat?”

“Would you stop fussing!” She turned around and rested one hand
on her horse’s rump, while still moving forward at a brisk walk. “I’ll be fine.
And I’m going to win.” Her bright smile sent a jolt of excitement through
him.

“No way.”

“Just watch me.” She shot him a cheeky grin.

“I wish I could, but I don’t want to look back over my shoulder
while I’m galloping.” He walked his horse faster until they were abreast. “Giles
is going to call the start.” Giles, the groom, walked a few paces behind them.
“Firing a pistol might get the horses too excited.”

“I want my horse excited.” She stroked Taffy’s big neck. “But
don’t worry. I’ll get her there without any help from firearms.” James was glad
she’d agreed to ride Taffy. The big mare would take care of her. She certainly
wasn’t the fastest horse in the stable, but with her extensive hunting
experience and sturdy build, she was the least likely to run into unexpected
lameness or to spook and throw her rider, and those things generally meant more
when it came to reaching the finish line in a long race.

“Are you going to let me win?” She’d turned to face him again,
and pinned him with a fierce look.

“Never. The honor of the Drummonds rests on my victory.” He
slammed a fist to his chest.

Okay, so maybe at that exact moment he had been wondering if he
should let her stay out in front, just so he could watch her and make sure she
didn’t do anything rash and dangerous. What was he thinking? Did he actually
want to give up that nice piece of property so close to Orchard Road? He
laughed. He must be going soft. Or else he was falling hard for Fiona. “I
promise that if you win you’ll do it fair and square.”

“Good, because I do plan to win and I don’t want you telling
yourself that it was all your idea.”

“Stone wall is your mark.” Giles’s gruff voice pierced the air.
A low stone wall divided the manicured lawn nearest the house from the first
stretch of rough pasture. They pulled their horses up in the gateway. Both
mounts were clearly excited and ready to blow off some steam, no doubt taking
some unconscious cues from their riders.

“Are you ready?” Both answered Giles’s question with an
unwavering “yes.”

“On your marks, get set… Go!” The horses leaped into action,
thundering across the field at a canter. The sky was bright, pale blue with a
few fluffy white clouds, and the sun half blinded him as they headed toward the
eastern boundary of the estate.

To his chagrin he noticed Fiona had already risen out of the
saddle into a light two-point, and seemed to float effortlessly over her horse.
His nearly two hundred pounds of solid muscle, however, moved with his horse’s
back as they cleared the first rise. She’d get tired standing up like that,
wouldn’t she? For the first time he wondered if she really had a chance of
beating him.

The prospect only fired his more aggressive urges, and he cued
Solomon into a gallop and passed her.

“Don’t wear your horse out too quickly!” she called, a bright
tone in her voice.

“Don’t you worry about us,” he shouted back over his shoulder.
“Solomon and I have the whole race planned out.” He led the way to the broad
ditch that marked the first boundary, then crossed it and rode along the wide
top of the berm his ancestors must have dug over a thousand—maybe even two
thousand—years ago. They’d claimed their territory with sweat and soil, and the
markers they’d made persisted through countless political regimes and
monarchies. He intended to see that they’d survive intact another thousand
years, even if he’d rather be sailing his yacht in Singapore.

A sense of duty. That’s what propelled a family like the
Drummonds to survive and thrive from one generation to the next. Curses didn’t
have much impact on sheer determination, even if one were to believe in
them.

The sound of Taffy’s sturdy hoofbeats reassured him as they set
out on the first stretch, running right along the eastern border, between the
pastures of the estate and the uncultivated wilderness beyond. There was room
for two horses to pass, but it would take some nerve, like passing from the
inside lane on a racetrack.

He wasn’t surprised when Fiona tried it a few minutes in.
“Outside,” she called, then he heard a quickening of footfalls and Taffy eased
past him into the lead. Adrenaline fired through him, urging him to take back
the lead, but he forced himself to hold back.

She was safer out in front where he could keep an eye on her.
And damn, that was some view to behold. Her tight, shapely backside poised
gracefully above Taffy’s powerful hindquarters.

He could take the lead back at any time, he reassured himself.
He just didn’t want to.

Yet.

* * *

The exhilaration of galloping—and making sure it was still a
controlled and sustainable gallop—sent thrills surging to Fiona’s toes and
fingers. Passing James had given her a rush of excitement, and she could almost
imagine being a jockey in the Grand National, heading for the finish line in
front of a crowd of cheering fans.

Except that here there were no spectators beyond a lone eagle
and the occasional rabbit darting in the wild brush to her right.

“Don’t take the hill too fast.” James’s voice came through the
wind.

The wide swale dipped and followed the contour of the landscape
downward. A valley spread out below them, with a winding river at the bottom.
“This view is distracting,” she shouted. She slowed Taffy to a trot as she
negotiated the hill. It wasn’t really that steep, but why take a chance? Taffy
was James’s horse, after all, and even if she weren’t his, Fiona didn’t want her
to slip and get hurt.

The berm bridged the river at the bottom, a roiling, foaming
current, and then swooped upward again. James almost passed her at the foot of
it, but she laughed and spurred Taffy back into a gallop, whipping past him and
tackling the smooth, sheep-mowed turf with ease. “It’s lucky for me your horses
are kept so fit.”

“I like them to be ready for anything,” he yelled back.

“Conquering neighboring estates?”

“You never know.”

She grinned. It was easy to imagine James leading an army into
battle, pennants fluttering in the wind and horses snorting. His ancestors had
probably done just that to gain this huge tract of land and defend it over the
centuries. No wonder James could never abandon the place entirely for a
Singapore penthouse. If it were hers she probably wouldn’t ever want to
leave.

If it were hers.

And it could be, if she were James’s wife. Her dad would
eventually get used to the idea that she’d married James. Sooner or later the
two most important men in her life would become friends and would laugh about
their rivalry for the factory and the land under it. As the wind whipped her
face and the bright sky dazzled her eyes, it seemed inevitable that everything
should work out just the way she envisioned.

“Go on, Taffy,” she urged as they climbed another small rise
and took a turn to the left. She had to win. If she didn’t win, her entire
carefully wrought plan would fall apart.

When they reached a particularly rocky stretch of landscape,
the berm morphed into a stone wall, and suddenly they were cantering neck and
neck alongside it over a field of tufted grass.

“Your horse looks tired,” she called.

“Solomon’s not even on his second wind yet.” James grinned and
urged his horse ahead. As Solomon’s swirling black tail pulled level with
Taffy’s neck, Fiona’s stomach tightened. For a brief second, she could feel it
all slipping away—the factory, her dad, her future with James, so she dug her
heels into Taffy’s sides and pushed the big horse forward, stretching her out
until she peeled past them. Now was the time to take advantage of her lighter
weight and put some real distance between them. She could see the castle to her
left, and could tell they were now coming down the western boundary. There was
almost no way to get lost from here. If she could pull ahead of him and gain a
real edge, she’d be that much closer to winning.

She moved past him and sped forward as fast as she could. The
sound of Solomon’s footfalls grew distant, and when she glanced back over her
shoulder she could see them fifty yards away, then a hundred. She couldn’t keep
this pace up for long without exhausting her horse, so she waited until she was
just far enough ahead then steadied her pace. He’d obviously done the same as he
wasn’t catching up with her.

She grinned, taking in the spectacular view of the rugged
landscape and the mossy towers of the castle. With a little planning and
determination, she could accomplish almost anything in life.

* * *

As Fiona disappeared from sight around the bend on the
homestretch, James came to a very unsettling realization. He wanted her to win.
The desire to have someone else come out ahead in a contest went against all his
training and experience. His boarding school had drilled him in the ruthless
crushing of opponents of all kinds. For years he’d schooled himself to focus
intently on his goal. Collateral damage could be cleaned up later. He rarely
failed to clinch a deal, even if it took several years to get all the parties
and the funding lined up and on the same page.

And now he was planning to let Fiona beat him on his home turf
and to give her the prime piece of real estate he’d had his eye on for
years.

Clearly she had a profound effect on him.

“You’re driving me crazy.” He said the words into the wind,
knowing there was no way she could hear them. She was too far ahead. His heart
swelled at the sight of her cantering steadily along on Taffy as if she could do
it all day. Which she obviously could.

They’d been riding since midmorning and it was now late
afternoon. She clearly intended to win. He loved that!

He never thought he’d meet a woman as focused and determined as
himself. Her success in business had intrigued him in the first place, her
beauty and intelligence had hooked him, and she’d turned out to be even more
fabulous than he’d imagined. The cursory background research he’d done showed an
uneventful childhood in California, peppered with academic successes that led to
a spectacular four years at a top university, just as he’d anticipated. Then
she’d started her first business and turned it into an international sensation.
Fiona Lam was an amazing woman.