Stop this. Haven’t you learned your lesson?
Putting space and distance between her and Lucas Ramsey was the best thing she could do. By the Goddess, she needed time to think.
Chapter Three—The Riddle
When Lucas arrived at the mansion the next morning, a rental car was parked in the driveway. Frowning, he knocked on the door, wondering if there was another guest. Sara had driven away last night in a Mustang convertible.
The frown left his face when he thought of her. It had been centuries since a woman had actually elicited electric-like sparks from him. He was pretty sure she felt them too and, for some reason, was resisting the chemistry.
Perhaps it was just as well. When he had teased her about not biting, the wolf had growled and the thought of nuzzling and nipping her bare throat had stirred deep desire. He couldn’t help holding her gaze until she parted her lips and the tip of her tongue almost emerged. How he wanted to capture that tip while his mouth captured hers in a soul-searing deep kiss. But he also knew that when he took a woman, he must remain somewhat distracted to control the beast. Giving in to raw emotion was dangerous, and he had a feeling that was the way it would be with Sara. A sudden image of her nude, legs spread wide to receive him, arching her back to take more, writhing beneath him in unbridled passion, made him hard instantly. He forced the picture aside even as the wolf stirred from slumber. He couldn’t take the chance on hurting her.
Twice last night the beast had tried to break through. Once, he thought she might have noticed, for she looked startled. He simply had to concentrate on the manuscript. Stay focused.
But something about her called to him on an otherworldly level. He wondered if Sara were aware of the dormant power she possessed. And the faerie…he hadn’t seen Nimue since she’d bested Merlin in a battle of wits that left him imprisoned in a tree. Arthur had had the devil of a time convincing her that enough was enough.
The door opened, jarring him out of his thoughts. The butler inclined his head slightly. “Mr. Smith has been expecting you.”
He made it sound as though Lucas were late, which he knew he wasn’t. He resisted looking at his watch to check. He had visited in far too many homes where butlers and seneschals tried to be intimidating.
“I’ll take your bag, sir. Mr. Smith is in the study.”
He could hear voices as he approached the room. Male voices, not Sara’s. He sighed, wondering how long this guest would be staying. There could be no looking at the manuscript until he left.
“Ah, there you are, Mr. Ramsey!” Mr. Smith turned away from the sword wall he was showing his guest. “It seems my collection of things has suddenly become more public than I thought. Mr. Caldwell, here, is interested in doing an article on my medieval weapons. And he’s from England too. Isn’t that a coincidence?”
It certainly is. Lucas’s cross burned against his chest in warning, yet his lupine senses could detect no magic from this man. Caldwell was almost as tall as Lucas, but more stockily built. He had the thick neck and bulky shoulders of an American football player and reminded Lucas somewhat of an army tank.
The man held out his hand. “Al Caldwell,” he said cordially, with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
Lucas shook hands and the fine hairs at the back of his neck began to bristle. This man was not who he seemed to be. Before he could home in on what he didn’t like, he heard Sara arrive.
“Mr. Ramsey, did you rent a—” She stopped as she saw Caldwell.
“The car is mine,” he said with a disarming smile and stepped forward to take her hand. “You must be the lovely assistant Mr. Smith told me about. I can’t believe my good luck in havingaccess to these weaponsanda beautiful woman to work with.” He bent low and brought her fingers to his lips.
Con man.Lucas’s eyes bore holes through the man’s back, but he didn’t notice. Sara was looking flustered, but at least she withdrew her hand.
“Have we met?” she asked.
Mr. Smith hastily made the introductions. “Mr. Caldwell will need a few days to go through my authenticity papers, to have the facts straight on each weapon.”
Lucas caught the questioning look in Sara’s eyes and shook his head slightly. They would have to wait on the manuscript. She nodded imperceptibly.
“I can pull those documents.” She set her purse on the coffee table and walked toward the door. “Where would you like for me to put them?”
Mr. Smith frowned, apparently just realizing that Caldwell presented a dilemma. Sweat broke out on his balding forehead and he dabbed at it hastily with the linen handkerchief from his breast pocket. “Well…” Then he brightened. “What about the billiard hall? It has several tables and chairs, and Mr. Caldwell could spread out the paperwork. That would leave us free to look at the manu—”
“Ah. Don’t worry about that,” Sara interrupted quickly. “Professor MacDonald is already working on the matter, remember? And, Mr. Ramsey, I believe you wanted to examine some Scottish earthenware from the sixteenth century?”
“Aye, lass,” Lucas said promptly, going along with her story and admiring her quick thinking. “I canna believe the wee bit of luck that led me here. Laird Smith ’tis a most generous mon to let me have a peek at the artifacts.”
Mr. Smith preened a little at being called a laird, and Lucas almost laughed, but he realized Caldwell was regarding him strangely.
Sara caught the look too. “He’s an archeologist,” she said.
“Ummm,” Caldwell said slowly as he assessed Lucas. Then he gave Sara an engaging grin. “May I help you carry the documents that I’ll be needing?”
“That won’t be necessary,” she answered. “I’ll just need my key for access and be right back.” She started for her purse, but Caldwell put up a hand to stop her. “Allow me.” He leaned to pick up the purse, but his hand brushed against a brass candlestick, which toppled onto the purse and knocked it off the table.
