A Trap So Tender (12 page)

Solomon was blowing beneath him, probably relaxing in the
knowledge that his stall and a long drink of water weren’t too far away now.
“Come on, boy, not long now. Shall we put on a burst of speed so it looks like
we’re trying?”

Solomon obliged, and soon James glimpsed Taffy’s pale rump
rising and falling through the thin copse of trees that led to the drive. “I’m
going to beat you!” He couldn’t resist the last-minute challenge.

Fiona whipped her head around, then crouched lower over Taffy,
urging her to go faster. He laughed and enjoyed the view as Solomon lumbered
across the last stretch of open pasture toward the stable yard. Fiona galloped
up the last rise as if her life depended on it, then thrust up an arm in triumph
as she reached the top.

He slowed Solomon to a walk. Fiona had jumped off and was
giving Taffy a hug. Two grooms rushed forward, ready to cool out the tired
horses.

“I told you I’d win.” Her cheeks glowed pink as she stood,
hands on hips. Her pale jodhpurs and tall boots were splashed with mud.

“And you were right. I’m duly impressed. Solomon and I will
have to eat humble pie for dinner.”

“I’m a lot lighter than you.” He felt her eyes on his more
massive frame as he eased himself down from Solomon and hit the ground with a
thud.

“There’s no arguing with that.” He wanted to kiss her right
here. Why not? He took her in his arms, and the taste of her mouth was like
champagne after the long, arduous ride. She held him tight, her breath coming in
unsteady gasps. When they finally pulled apart, he studied her face. “This race
really meant a lot to you.”

“I don’t like to lose.”

“Well, you didn’t. You have my undying admiration, and now a
piece of land in Singapore.”

Her eyes sparkled. “I’m thrilled. By both. Kiss me again!”

* * *

The extreme athletic feat of winning the race sucked the wind
out of Fiona. She could barely make it through dinner without closing her eyes.
A long bubble bath and an early night in James’s arms should have been the
perfect ending to a spectacular day.

But a nasty sense of foreboding crept over her. James needed to
go back to Singapore for a meeting, and while she ached to go with him, she knew
it was a bad idea.

“What’s the matter?” James tried to massage her shoulders, but
they kept tying themselves back into knots.

“Oh, nothing. I’m just tired.”

“Are you sure you want to stay here while I’m in
Singapore?”

“Definitely. I’m determined to find the missing cup piece. I
think it will bring us good luck.” She couldn’t face the thought of going back
there and being thrust into the whole engagement whirlwind again. Not until it
felt real. “As long as there’s a car I can use to get around I’ll be fine.”

“Angus will keep one fueled and ready for you. When you grow
bored with rifling through old junk you can join me in Singapore and we can
finalize the wedding details together.”

“Do you really have to leave today? Stay here awhile longer.
Change your meeting to next week.” Suddenly she was terrified of losing him.

“I wish I could but it’s a deal I’ve been working on literally
for years. It’s with Goh Kwon Beng, the man I introduced you to the other
day.”

“Oh.” She had a weird feeling that this meeting had something
to do with their impending marriage, though she couldn’t imagine how. And why
did that sound so much like impending doom? The mention was a sharp reminder
that he was marrying her in a rush for reasons of his own. He didn’t love her.
There were no promises of undying affection between them. Really they were just
starting to date and get to know each other under intense pressure—from both
sides. “I’ll miss you.” It was the truth.

“I’ll miss you, too.” He kissed her again, so softly it was
almost like a breath.

Hopefully by the time he came back she’d have pacified her
father by telling him the land was his. Maybe then this could turn into a real
relationship without all the underhanded drama. Still, she needed to tie up the
scheme first. “Will you send me the deed for the land?”

“I have it right here, in my briefcase. I can’t believe I
forgot about it.” He eased off the bed, naked, and walked to the far side of the
room. He reached into a dark leather satchel and pulled out a plain manila
envelope. “Here it is. It’s yours.”

“I can’t believe you have it here. You’re too funny.”

“I’m always deadly serious.”

“I like that about you.” He was truly a man of his word,
someone you could count on, even under these rather bizarre circumstances. Her
hand trembled slightly when she took the envelope. How would James react if he
knew that their entire relationship, even their first meeting, had been
engineered to obtain this one document?

For now, at least, it would be her secret.

“It’s sweet of you to let me stay here.” He obviously trusted
her. A trust that was not entirely justified.

“I’m counting on you to find the cup fragment so we can enjoy a
glorious future together, unlike most of the Drummonds. Katherine’s phoned or
emailed me nearly every day. If nothing else it will make her happy.”

She bit her lip.

“What’s the matter?”

“What if I don’t find it?”

“That’s not the Fiona I know and…” He stopped short before
uttering the word
love,
but it hung in the air
anyway and reverberated like a freshly banged gong.

Love. Would it grow between them naturally and organically once
the pressure was off? Or were they doomed to the fate of most Drummond men and
their unfortunate spouses? Her breathing felt shallow.

“You’ll find it. I have complete confidence in you.” James
climbed back onto the bed with her. His nearness was reassuring. She dreaded
tomorrow, when he’d leave and she’d be all alone. Too much time to think and
worry.

“I’ll do my best.” Perhaps that cup really was the key to
James—and her—finding happiness.

“I’m counting on you.”

Don’t count on me,
she wanted to
say.
I’m not the person you think I am at all. I’m a
devious, cunning stranger who cajoled my way into your innermost sanctum for
my own purposes.
But she didn’t say any of that. Instead, she touched
his rough cheek with her fingers and kissed him on the mouth, as emotions
tangled in her heart.

* * *

“Dad, remember not to tell anyone how you got it.” She was
walking along the battlements on the roof of the oldest part of the castle while
talking on the phone. At least there she knew no one could listen in. The
dramatic landscape stretched in all directions, making her feel very small. A
cold snap had painted the hills with a russet tinge. Why wouldn’t time stand
still?

“Why not? It’s a funny story. Besides, you’re all done with
that devil now. You can tell him where to shove it.”

She hesitated. How did she tell her dad that she’d grown to
like James?

To love him.

Okay. Maybe you couldn’t really love someone on this short
acquaintance, but she liked him more than any man she’d ever met, and if passion
was a measure of any kind…

“James and I… I don’t want him to know the whole story.”
Suddenly her delicate house of cards was in danger of falling apart. Maybe if
she could buy a little time? “The taxes are paid through the end of next year.
If you sit on it quietly until then there’ll be time for me to smooth things
over.”

“But I need to reopen my factory.” Her father sounded almost
petulant.

“It didn’t make any money.” Now she was whining, too. “Just
wait awhile and we’ll work on a new project together. I’d like to start a retail
business in Singapore, and I know you’re the perfect person to help me with it.
It’s an ideal spot, so near Orchard Road and I…”

“I had orders. I can be back in business by the end of the
month. All the machinery is still there.”

Her heart sank. Her dad was so stubborn. Then again, she’d told
him she’d get him his factory back, not that she’d tell him what to do with it.
She’d already sent the deed to him via DHL. Smoothing things over with James was
her problem alone. “Dad, James put a lot of trust in me, and I need a few weeks
to straighten things out.” With time she could think of some way to present it
that sounded less mercenary. Or at least by then the engagement and marriage
train would have hurtled so far forward that it would be less likely to wreck
and fall off the tracks. “Promise me you won’t tell anyone, not for a little
while.”

“Oh, Fiona, you’re such a worrier. Just like your mother.”

* * *

Thoughts of Fiona crowded James’s mind in her absence. He found
himself dreaming about their future and making plans he’d never even discussed
with her. Names for their children, even the schools those imaginary children
might attend.

He seemed to be living and breathing every minute in a state of
suspended animation until he could hold her in his arms again.

Which was why the headline of Wednesday’s paper came as such a
brutal shock.

James sat down hard in his chair. His office seemed to shrink
around him, as his whole world transformed into an alien landscape quite
different from the one he thought he was living in.

Drummond Engagement a Ruse
. The
headline mocked him. The article itself devastated him.

Fiona had given the land to her father. Given it
back
to her father. A father he never even knew
existed, since his rudimentary peek into Fiona’s past had told him only what he
wanted to hear. A father who now claimed—from every rooftop—that their entire
romance was a scheme to reclaim his “stolen” property.

James’s first instinct was to argue with the media. To claim
that it couldn’t be true. Fiona would never do that! But he knew immediately, in
his own rather stony heart, that it was not only possible, but utterly true.

Fiona never intended to marry him at all. Which explained why
she didn’t want to choose her wedding dress, or even tell her parents about
their intended marriage. Because there wasn’t going to be a wedding.

He’d chosen her as his wife and rushed their courtship forward
to secure his long-awaited business deal with Goh Kwon Beng, and it had never
occurred to him that she had her own reasons for agreeing to such a precipitous
engagement. Easily distracted by her business reputation and the stellar
educational record she’d blazed in California, he’d done his research with
­blinders on. He’d been looking for good things and found them, so
confident and intent on achieving his own goals that he’d walked right into a
trap.

Fiona’s ruthless determination and fearless pursuit of her
goals had intrigued and attracted him. Now he was surprised that they’d been
used against him? He should curse himself for being a fool.

She didn’t answer his calls that morning. Hardly surprising. He
hadn’t been able to get hold of her the night before, either. Someone in
Singapore must have told her the story would run. Maybe she even planted it
herself.

Now he was forced to ask his household staff about her
whereabouts. He could hardly believe he’d left a virtual stranger unattended in
his ancestral home. Except that she was supposed to be his fiancée and the
castle was intended to be her home, too.

“Angus, uh, is everything okay with Fiona?” How did you
delicately ask if your intended bride was still there?

“I drove her to the airport this morning. She should be back
with you soon.”

“Oh, yes, I’m sure she’ll be here any minute,” he lied. Where
was she going? Likely not back to Singapore, at least not yet. She didn’t seem
the type to court this kind of publicity. Unless she really did want to crow
over him and celebrate her victory. “Thanks, Angus.”

He didn’t believe there was malice behind it. Then again, maybe
that was more evidence of his stupidity in this whole situation. He’d had such a
great time with her. He didn’t remember ever enjoying a woman’s company like
this before. And the sex they’d had was in its own league. She’d enjoyed it,
too. Had her pleasure been simply in a mercenary victory over an adversary?

Damn, but he wanted to talk to her and hear her side of the
story. But even in this high-tech world, he didn’t know a way to compel a free
citizen to answer her phone when she didn’t want to speak to you.

Ten

J
ames had left several messages on her
phone since she’d fled the estate earlier this morning. She couldn’t even bear
to listen to them anymore so she let the battery run out and dropped the phone
in a garbage can at the airport. If she had any human decency at all she’d call
him and explain her side of the story. She’d tell him she really did have
feelings for him. She’d beg for forgiveness and they’d live happily ever
after.

But this was James Drummond she’d made a fool of. The tone of
his messages was confused at first, then angry, then a cold, deadly fury. She’d
known she was taking on a powerful adversary when she walked into this whole
situation. That’s why she’d planned to disappear to California once she got her
dad’s factory back.

She’d since dared to dream that she and James could have a real
future together. But when a reporter from a Singapore daily had called her
looking for salacious tidbits about their romance, she’d learned that the story
would break, and her courage failed her.

The ending of this story had been planned since their first
meeting, but she hadn’t intended for it to hurt like being cut open with a
knife.

The journey back to California went way too fast. Racked by
guilt and sorrow, she couldn’t look forward to anything. Her friend Crystal told
her she could stay as long as she liked, so at least she had a place to hide,
but even seeing her old friends couldn’t distract Fiona from the misery of
losing James just when she’d realized she wanted to keep him forever.

The day after she arrived, Crystal tried to console her over
margaritas at their favorite tapas bar. “You said from the beginning that it was
a business thing. You accomplished your goal. You should be celebrating, not
looking like you’re about to weep more salt into the olives.”

“I am not going to weep.” The sharp margarita stung her tongue.
Besides, she’d done enough weeping already; she was just too ashamed to admit
it. “He turned out to be so much…cooler than I was expecting.”

“You had fun with him.” Crystal tipped her head to the side,
and her long braids almost brushed the table.

“Way too much fun.” The restaurant stereo was playing The
Eagles’s “Hotel California,” which didn’t help her gloomy mood. “How many men
have I ever met who can even ride a horse let alone race with me all day on
one?” She shook her head. “I was even crazy enough to think he might be the one.
And you can imagine how insane I’d have to be to think that while I’m pursuing a
scheme to separate him from his property.”

Crystal sighed. “That is pretty crazy. The sex must have been
sensational.”

She nodded. “Totally. I can’t imagine I’ll ever have sex like
that again. There was a real connection between us.”

“Maybe there still is?” Crystal picked up a shrimp and dipped
it in spicy sauce. “I think you should reach out to him and tell him how you
feel.”

“No way.” She frowned. “You didn’t hear the messages he left
me. He was furious. And why wouldn’t he be? I read some of the articles online.
My dad made sure James came out looking like a fool. He didn’t just lose out on
a business deal. He had the supposed woman of his dreams thumb her nose at him
in the press. That’s probably the ultimate in humiliation for a guy.”

“You didn’t do that.”

“My dad made it seem like I did, and for someone in the public
eye it amounts to the same thing.” Now anger warred with all the other
conflicting emotions. She’d waited so long and worked so hard to win her dad’s
affections. Now he’d betrayed her.

“Damn. I sure hope your dad is grateful for what you did.”

She swallowed. “I’ve tried calling him several times this week
and I haven’t heard back. I phoned to ask if the deed arrived safely, and he
didn’t even respond. I had to check DHL tracking to make sure it wasn’t lost
somewhere.” Maybe he didn’t want to talk to her now that he’d done exactly what
she begged him not to.

“You’re kidding!” Crystal’s horrified stare made her look away.
“Has he even said thank you?”

“I’m sure he’s grateful. It’s just that…” That what? She’d been
so sure that winning back his factory would make her a heroine in her dad’s
eyes. That it could somehow compensate for all the missed years together and
draw them close in the father-daughter relationship she’d dreamed of. Now her
long-cherished dream—put into very real action—seemed like a foolish fantasy.
Once again her dad was immersed in his own busy universe and had no time for
her, exactly as her mom and Crystal had warned her.

“He used you.”

“Nonsense. The entire thing was my idea.” She sipped her
margarita and relished the cool sting on her tongue. “I have no one to blame but
myself. I wanted to help my dad. I wanted to make him like me. I never for one
moment thought about James’s feelings when I embarked on this whole thing.”

“Well, you had no idea he was going to ask you to marry him.
That part was all his fault.”

“I know, and I’m sure it was a business thing for him to marry
me. He has some important deal coming up with a guy named Beng who doesn’t
appreciate fast-living bachelors. He was totally using me for his own reasons.
But that doesn’t make me feel any better. I know he did intend to marry me.”

“What did you do with the ring?” Crystal raised a pierced
brow.

“The engagement ring.” She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment.
“Jeez. I never did tell him where I left it.” She cringed at the sudden
realization that he might think she’d taken it. “I put it in the top drawer of a
chest in the bedroom I stayed in at the castle. I knew I had to leave it but I
didn’t want the staff to find it. I’ll have to tell him somehow.” Her heart felt
like lead.

“Write to him.”

“An email?” She’d blocked his address after a barrage of angry
call me’
s came through.

“No, not an email. An old-fashioned epistle.”

“A pen-and-paper letter?” Fiona paused. The idea appealed to
her. It didn’t have the frightening possibility of an instant and hostile
response the way email and the phone did. There would be time for her to choose
her words carefully, and time for him to think about his response. If he even
wanted to dignify her letter with a response. “You might be onto something.”

* * *

She sat up late into the night, writing and rewriting,
crumpling the pages and throwing them away. It was a long time since she’d
written a letter on paper, and she worried that he wouldn’t be able to read her
chicken scratch.

She knew he wouldn’t forgive her. The Singapore media was still
making fun of him, and she’d just read online about Beng’s SK Industries forming
an alliance with another local entrepreneur—an older family man with three
teenage daughters—for the purpose of aggressive real-estate acquisition. In
addition to making him a laughingstock in the gossip columns, she’d ruined
James’s plans to partner with Singapore’s Mr. Big.

She owed him an explanation. There was no way she could handle
talking to him on the phone. She was too ashamed of her own duplicity for that.
Email seemed too impersonal, and at the same time too immediate and close to a
phone call. The prospect of her letter traveling slowly by air like a leisurely
bird, and alighting at its destination to face its fate—that seemed doable.

Dear James,

Even that part was hard. Did she have the nerve to call him
“dear” after the way she’d used him?

I’m not asking for forgiveness, or even
acknowledgment of this letter. I freely admit that I’m too chicken to talk
to you directly, which is why I’ve avoided your calls. I didn’t mean for it
to work out this way.

Was that last line really true? When she’d started out she’d
fully intended an ending like this.

When my father first told me he’d lost his
business, I discovered what had happened and wanted to help. I didn’t talk
to you about my father, for obvious reasons, but we’ve been estranged for
most of my life and I desperately wanted—and still want—to form a close
relationship with him.

Would James understand? He’d never had a close relationship
with his own father.

When an acquaintance pointed you out to me
at that party, I formed a sudden resolution to get to know you and convince
you to sell me the property. My dad had warned me you’d never sell, and as I
got to know you, I discovered that he was right. Everything you do is done
for a reason, and you rarely if ever backtrack on a course you’ve started.
When you offered me the opportunity to come to Scotland, I couldn’t believe
my luck.

No one could accuse her of being sensible. And maybe the worst
part was how the Scottish countryside had taken hold of her. The once-loved
hills of California now seemed dry and bare, the bright sun too harsh. She
missed that cloud-scudded sky and the bright patchwork of green and gray and
rich brown, with its splashes of bright heather. It would be hard to come up
with pretexts to visit Scotland on a regular basis. Now, in addition to missing
James, she’d have to nurse an inconvenient longing for a place she didn’t belong
to, and never would.

Things quickly spiraled out of control.
When you asked me to marry you, I knew I couldn’t achieve my goals unless I
said yes. I know you must have had your own reasons for wanting to marry
someone you’d barely met and in such a hurry. I suspect your reasons were
almost as mercenary as mine, but the difference remains: you planned to
marry me, and I didn’t intend to marry you. Therefore you were honest in
your actions, and I wasn’t. Am I ashamed of how I played along? Absolutely.
I could plead that I changed my mind and really did want to marry you by the
time of the race, but the fact remains that obtaining my father’s former
property back remained my main goal, and I was obviously willing to risk
everything in pursuit of it.

I wish things could have worked out
differently. I was hoping that my father could wait quietly for a while
until we were married and happy together, and then I could tell you
everything and hope that you’d understand, but he couldn’t resist the urge
to crow over his “enemy.” I’m well aware that the embarrassment you suffered
in the press is entirely my fault and I am truly sorry for that.

Again, I don’t ask for your forgiveness, I
just wanted to respond to your calls in the cowardly way that is all I can
apparently handle.

I love you.

She didn’t write that. That would add insult to injury and seem
phony beyond belief, even if it was true.

I wish I had found that cup piece because
I do want you to have a happy future, and I know that I must seem like a
manifestation of the Drummond curse. If there was a way to make things
better, I’d offer to try, but my imagination fails me.

Although that race led to a disastrous
fallout between us, I’m afraid I shall always cherish it as one of the best
days of my life.

No mention of the incredible sex. She wouldn’t be forgetting
that anytime soon, either. Her whole body ached as she thought about spending
the rest of her life without ever feeling James’s arms around her again.

Would she do it all again? No way. But at least now she knew
how intense and wonderful things could be with the right kind of man.

James wasn’t the right man. If he was, things wouldn’t have
crashed and burned the way they did. Each had their own agenda that trumped the
personal side of their relationship. His business deal was no doubt more
important than any affection they had for each other. She knew that. It made her
feel a tiny bit better.

But not much.

I hope you find the perfect woman to spend
the rest of your life with. Go slower next time and get to know her before
you ask her to marry you.

Her advice seemed a little obnoxious, but she didn’t want him
to make the same mistake twice. Women weren’t like a business where you could
just rush in and start giving orders and expect everything to go well. And he
needed someone strong and independent—like her.

She sighed. They really were a good match. But not good
enough.

I wish you all the best,

Fiona

She sealed the envelope and wrote his Singapore address on it.
Then remembered she hadn’t mentioned the ring, so she had to rip it open.

P.S. I left the engagement ring in the top
drawer of the carved dresser in my bedroom.

My
bedroom? What was she thinking?
But she didn’t want to rewrite the whole letter now. It had taken about
thirty-two drafts to get this far.

It is a lovely ring and hope they will
take it back.

Again she cringed. He’d have to take it back himself or ask one
of the staff to do it—either way would be very embarrassing for him. Yet she
hated the idea of that lovely ring sitting around the castle gathering dust. Or
worse yet, ending up on someone else’s finger. She’d much rather it went back to
the shop and was disassembled to its component parts and maybe turned into a
nice brooch.

She blew out hard, wrote out a new envelope and sealed it up.
Her dad had answered her latest call with a gruff announcement that he was busy
and would call her soon. That was ten days ago. People often ditched the friend
who helped them out of a tough spot, because that person now reminded them of
the bad times they wanted to forget.

All she wanted to do was forget the good times with the man
she’d betrayed.

* * *

James tugged the papers away from his nose. What did he mean by
sniffing a stupid piece of paper? It had been nearly three weeks since he’d seen
Fiona and he had no business thinking about her scent. He was trying to get her
out of his mind. Besides, it only smelled of paper and ink.