Midnight Jewels (28 page)

Croft thought he had handled Isobel's pass rather well. Mercy would have been proud of him. Maybe. Actually, it was a little tough to decide just how Mercy would feel about the situation.

Of course, the process of dealing with Isobel's sensual invitation had been made easier by the fact that the woman hadn't exactly thrown herself at him. Nothing embarrassingly obvious or awkward from Isobel Ascanius. Nothing overly forthright and honest. There was no sign of genuine emotional need. That would have been far too unsophisticated.

In short, it was nothing like the kind of pass Mercy might have delivered in similar circumstances, assuming Mercy could have worked up the nerve for such a blatant sexual assault in the first place.

Croft smiled to himself at the thought of Mercy trying to actively seduce a man. She would be very genuine and quite passionate about it, probably even reckless. The man in question would find himself in no doubt about the nature of the invitation.

He would also know that before Mercy could bring herself to do such a thing she would have to be totally and irrevocably in love. That would make the business of accepting her invitation all the sweeter, Croft thought. Such a pass from Mercy would probably be impossible to refuse. The lure of her complete surrender would be far too tempting.

But the kind of invitation Isobel had issued was another matter. Very polished, very sophisticated, very smooth. And very easy to ignore without embarrassing either party. On an intellectual level Croft had to admire it. She was one hell of a pilot and it took considerable skill to fly these mountains and try to seduce a man at the same time. On an emotional level he felt nothing. If it had been Mercy sitting next to him right now he would be rock hard already.

"Erasmus is a fascinating man, very wealthy, very brilliant. But I'm afraid he views me as just another item in his collection." Isobel pitched her voice over the roar of the rotor blades.

She was giving him one more chance, Croft decided, just in case the first pass had been too subtle. "I gather his main interest is his art and his books."

Isobel's glance was unreadable because of her mirrored glasses. "I admire him tremendously. But he has certain physical problems. Most unfortunate."

"Physical problems?"

"Certain male problems. I'm sure you understand," Isobel
said smoothly. "He has suffered such problems for some time. There was an accident, you see. He never quite recovered. It makes life difficult at times for me."

"I think I get the picture." Croft leaned forward to study the terrain below the copter. He wondered if Gladstone really was impotent as Isobel was implying and whether the "accident" which had caused the problem was related to a fire. "This country is absolutely amazing, isn't it?"

"Fantastic," Isobel murmured. "The beauty of this machine is that I can set it down almost anywhere. There is a perfect meadow over there." She glanced at him inquiringly, silently asking if he would like her to set down the copter.

"If we had time, I'd take Mercy there," Croft said, as if he hadn't understood exactly what she was offering. "But it looks like we won't be able to make the trip. We'll be leaving tomorrow."

"I understand," Isobel said, her voice smoothly masking her twinge of regret.

Croft rather thought she did. It was always nice to talk to someone who appreciated subtlety. "You're an excellent pilot, Isobel."

"Thank you."

"Does Gladstone also fly?"

"He had me give him some basic lessons a few months ago, but he's not an expert yet. He just wanted to know enough to take the controls in an emergency. It was a wise idea."

As Isobel turned the little helicopter back toward Gladstone's estate, Croft began worrying about Mercy's ability to interpret certain forms of subtlety. He hadn't liked the idea of leaving her behind, but he had wanted the aerial view Isobel was offering. It paid to know the terrain. Croft had also wanted a chance to discover more about Isobel Ascanius' interesting assortment of talents.

He was satisfied with the first goal. He now had a good internal picture of the landscape surrounding Gladstone's mountain fortress.

As for the second goal, Croft wasn't so certain. But there was no doubt that Isobel was a very formidable female.

Mercy didn't bother to offer a protest early that evening when Croft suggested they go upstairs to dress for the lavish buffet dinner. Most of the guests had arrived in a bus that had been chartered for the occasion. They were an exotic throng that appeared to favor avant garde clothing, jagged hairstyles and vivid makeup.

Several people had descended immediately to the pool area and the tropical garden was swarming with semi-naked and a few fully nude Adams and Eves. The laughter from the pool could be heard throughout the house.

Dallas and Lance had taken turns ferrying the new arrivals from the first gate where the huge bus had been forced to halt. Now
both of Gladstone's good looking house boys were busy mixing drinks and putting the finishing touches on the buffet.

"I can't get over how useful Dallas and Lance are around the place," Mercy observed as Croft tugged her into their suite. "Good help is so hard to find. I must ask Erasmus where he picked up those two. I'm not sure Isobel is so useful, but then nobody's perfect. Where are we going?"

"To take a shower."

"Work up a sweat during your aerial tour?" Mercy asked far too sweetly.

"Do I detect a slight waspish note?" He pulled her into the bathroom, shut the door and turned on the shower.

"Don't blame me, I've had a hard afternoon," Mercy said.

He leaned against the sink counter and folded his arms. "Tell me about your afternoon."

"Well, it probably wasn't as exciting as yours, but it had its moments. I almost went to sleep in the vault."

"Gladstone gave you another tour?"

"Uh huh. And in the process I picked up the following information which is probably totally irrelevant and utterly useless. Gladstone doesn't have any fireplaces in this house because he's afraid of open flames. He's also rather curious about you."

Croft's gaze sharpened. "About me?"

"I don't think you should read too much into this, Croft, but there was a time there in the, vault when I felt so sleepy I almost dozed off. But Erasmus just kept talking. He has a very unusual voice, have you noticed? And I kept listening. I could hear him asking me questions about you. It was a weird feeling. Made me wonder what it would be like to be hypnotized."

Croft was quietly alert. "What did you tell him?"

"Nothing. I knew you'd throttle me if I told him a single thing about you. That alone was enough to make me careful."

Croft smiled with cool satisfaction. "I doubt if you could betray me if you tried."

"I don't know about that, but I found myself concentrating on his eyes, instead. I've decided they're the same color as the swimming pool when the lights are on under the
water. Then I told him I wanted a glass of iced tea and he, being the gracious host he is, got it for me right quick. End of story. Frankly, I don't think it means much, but I knew you'd find all sorts of ominous clues in it. You have such a wonderfully melodramatic bent to your character. I was going to impress you by making a complete mental list of the most important tides in his collection, but
that sleepy feeling got in my way. I can, however, give you some idea of at least part of his book collecting tastes." She quickly ran through me titles and authors she had had a chance to study.

"Interesting," Croft commented when she had finished. "Definitely a different emphasis, although the materials are just as rare. Sounds like a much more generalized collection than Graves'."

"You still mink Gladstone is Graves, don't you?"

"My gut feeling is that they're one and the same. It all comes back to
Valley
, though. I want another look in that vault tonight."

"Why?" Mercy demanded.

"It intrigues me. It's the most secured place in this house. Far more secure than it needs to be. The Picasso and the Mondrian aren't given any special protection and they're individually every bit as valuable as the books. But even a relatively unimportant book like
Valley
goes in the vault."

"I think you're putting too much emphasis on the importance of that vault," Mercy said uneasily.

"I'm only putting a lot of emphasis on it because it's obvious Gladstone does. That business of being able to lock it from the inside interests me. It makes the vault a fortress within a fortress. A final retreat."

"Or a prison." Mercy shivered, remembering her feelings of claustrophobia.

"Yes," Croft agreed thoughtfully. "A fortress or a prison. But if Gladstone is really Graves, he will have made certain that he always has a way out. This time around he will be more cautious than ever."

"Assuming this is Graves' second time around. Now tell me every single detail about your helicopter jaunt. Did Isobel make a pass?"

Croft tilted his head to one side. "How did you know?"

"Instinct. Thank goodness we're leaving tomorrow. The next thing you know, she'd be wanting to take you on a wildflower crushing expedition. What did she tell you?"

"About what?"

"About Gladstone. Come on, Croft, I know you didn't waste that whole trip playing slap and tickle with Isobel. Learn anything interesting?"

"Not unless you consider the fact that Gladstone's apparently been impotent for the past three years interesting."

"Not particularly. Did you believe her?"

Croft shrugged. "Why not?"

"Why not? I'll tell you why not. You may take my word for it. Isobel Ascanius is not the kind of woman who would stick devotedly by a man she no longer found useful in bed." Mercy tapped one nail on the marble counter top and frowned at her image in the mirror. "She's a smart woman and she's a beautiful woman. She could find another sugar daddy if she wasn't getting what she wanted from Gladstone."

"Maybe she is getting what she wants from Gladstone. And maybe what she wants isn't sex," Croft suggested softly.

"What more could she want besides sex and money?"

"You really don't like the woman, do you?"

"Nope."

Croft smiled faintly. "I'll tell you what else she might be getting from Gladstone. Respect and power."

That brought Mercy's head up sharply. "Respect for what?"

"For such things as her skills as a pilot. I told her she was a good pilot this afternoon and you'd have thought I'd told her she was the most beautiful woman in the world."

"And power? What kind of power?"

"I'm not sure yet, but I'll tell you one thing. She's important around here, Mercy. She's not just a decorator item. Don't forget she was the one who found us that night in the pool. It wasn't Gladstone who responded to the alarm you tripped. It was Isobel."

"And Dallas."

"True, but I think we can assume Dallas and Lance are at the bottom of the hierarchy around here."

Mercy considered that. "Okay, but I don't see where that takes us. So what if Isobel is something more than Gladstone's mistress? What's that prove?"

"Nothing. It's just an interesting piece of the pattern." Croft moved away from the edge of the counter, rubbing his jaw. "I guess I'd better shave, huh?"