AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He squints at me. "None of your business, Miss Hartman."
"I realize I've made a bad first impression." I wince. "And probably many bad impressions after that. But I swear I'm not a horrible person. Give me a chance. We've never really talked about what this expedition will involve. At least give me a few minutes to explain."
"And then you'll go home to America and never bother me again. Aye?"
"Please, let me explain. That's all I'm asking." Since I don't want to lie, I instead avoided answering his question. The honest response is that no, I will not stop bothering him. I can't. "What do you say, Mr. Murdoch?"
He studies me, his gaze traveling from my face down to my toes before sliding back up to my chest. He licks his lips. "I suppose we could have a piece while you 'explain.' But when I tell you to leave, you will go. Aye?"
"Yes."
Errol stares into my eyes for a moment, then he waves for me to go inside. "Come in, lass."
I have no idea what "have a piece" means, but I'm guessing it refers to food. Errol leads me through the living room and into the kitchen, where an island occupies the center of the space. The open design accommodates a kitchen table, which stands tucked against the sill of a picture window, overlooking the backyard.
"Do ye like haggis?" he asks.
"I've never tried it."
He has the fridge door open, and he's bent over to examine the contents. He glances at me over his shoulder. "You didn't gag or run away. Most Americans have a negative reaction to the mention of haggis."
I shrug. "Can't have an opinion about something I've never eaten."
"Hmm." He focuses on the fridge again and brings out several items. "I think a sandwich will do."
"A haggis sandwich?"
"No." He holds up packages of meat and cheese. "Turkey and Gouda."
"Sounds good."
I can't help wondering why he's being so nice when he keeps telling me to leave him alone. Maybe he hopes I'll feel guilty for letting him feed me, and then I'll agree to go home and never pester him again. I can't do that. I'm in too deep to stop.
Erroll has placed all the ingredients on the island. Now he begins opening the packages.
"Want some help?" I ask.
"No, but thank you for asking." He eyes me with a touch of suspicion. "For months, you've been trying to talk me into doing what you want by mercilessly hounding me. Now you're offering to help. Must be a ploy to soften me up."
"I don't mean to be so pushy. But I need your cooperation."
"Why? What's so bloody important about a treasure that, if it exists, hasn't been seen in more than a century?"
How much should I reveal? My true motivations might make him sympathetic to my dilemma, or they might convince him I'm a conniving lunatic. I watch Errol slapping together two sandwiches, deftly tossing slices of bread onto the cutting board and smearing mayonnaise onto them like a pro. I've always enjoyed watching someone create a meal out of whatever's at hand. But observing Errol while he does that affects me in a strange way.
I'm getting so horny.
Okay, fine, he's hot. I'd love to sleep with him, but I've never done casual sex. I like to get to know a guy before we do the deed. But yesterday in that castle, I would've let Errol take me right there in the long gallery. And yes, I know that's what the room is called because I picked up a brochure in the vestibule on my way upstairs to torment Errol. Since the castle is also a museum, the place offers lots of brochures and even a map of the interior and exterior.
Yeah, I grabbed a map too. A girl needs to be prepared for anything.
But I was not prepared for how intensely attracted I am to Errol. I can keep it under control. No problem.
"Do you have a job?" Errol asks as he tears leaves off a head of lettuce. "Or are you independently wealthy?"
"I'll answer that question if you answer one for me first."
"Go on."
