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Skye fought to keep hold of that feeling. The gentle mockery had built between them, but reality began to bleed in just as the heat from the whisky burned out. She was torn between throwing herself on his mercy and telling him everything, or paying attention to the little voice in her head that said if she revealed everything then he’d have the power. The power to demand anything he wanted, because Skye and her sisters really needed that map. Her mother needed the map. And she simply couldn’t trust him not to betray that.
‘My sisters and I are doing some research into our family.’
Skye was glad it was dark and that the flames from the fire didn’t give off enough light for Benoit to see that her cheeks were bright red. She didn’t need a mirror, she could feel them. She’d always been terrible at lying.
‘Oui? And?’
‘And we thought that as your great-great-grandfather did some work on the estate in Norfolk he might have some...relevant documentation.’ Oh, God...oh, God, she was making it worse. Perhaps she should just tell him the truth.
‘You came out here for “relevant documentation” on an English estate?’
She reached for the bottle he’d left midway between them and took a rather large mouthful of Dutch courage. It tasted terrible but at least it made things a little...softer? Or was that fuzzier? She wasn’t quite sure.
‘You should probably take it easy on the—’
‘Yes,’ Skye said, nodding for emphasis, only that made the ground wobble a little. ‘Relevant documentation. Very important. Benoit Chalendar has it.’
‘I don’t.’
‘Not you. The other Benoit. Your great-great-great-whatever.’ She could see that he was frowning at her and she groaned. ‘He helped redesign the estate after the fire.’
‘I know he went to England in the mid-eighteen-hundreds to explore the glass structures at the Crystal Palace before that burned down. He was hoping to help develop a stronger, cheaper way of creating reinforced glass. The research he did there laid the way for the future success of Chalendar Enterprises. But I never heard anything about an estate in Norfolk.’
‘Of course you didn’t.’ She waved her hand as if he were an irritating fly, because he was being particularly irritating with all these questions and details. ‘It was a secret.’
‘What was?’
She had the sneaking suspicion that he was laughing at her, but suddenly it wasn’t funny. It was important. ‘The passageways in between the walls. They were a secret.’
She reached for the whisky, but Benoit moved it before she could take it. She shook her head. Never mind.
‘Benoit Chalendar designed secret passageways in an English country estate?’
‘Yes. For Catherine.’
‘Catherine?’
‘My great-great-grandmother. Or my great-great-great... I don’t know. There are a lot of greats in there.’
She watched as Benoit ran a hand through his hair, continuing to stare at her. She wasn’t explaining this very well. It was just that he was so handsome and it was hard to keep it all in her head. But, no matter what, she absolutely could not mention the Soames jewels.
‘What are the Soames jewels?’
‘Are you a mind-reader?’ she whispered in shock.
‘No. You said that out loud.’
‘I shouldn’t have said that!’
‘Apparently not. Skye, I know you haven’t drunk whisky before, but have you drunk any alcohol before?’
‘Yes,’ she replied indignantly, but perhaps the occasional cider didn’t count. ‘Anyway, now that you know—’
‘About?’
‘About the jewels,’ she clarified, not quite sure why Benoit suddenly seemed not to be so clever at all, ‘that Catherine hid in a secret room, locked with a special key, that only the secret passageways can get to. We need the map. Benoit has it. Had it? So we thought you had it. Have it.’
‘You’re on a treasure hunt?’ The incredulity ringing in his tone jabbed at her.
