A Trap So Tender (7 page)

“That’s okay with me.” She whispered the words in his ear as
she trailed a tempting finger down below his belly button. He shuddered as
desire rolled through him like a clap of thunder.

Will you marry me?

He knew better than to say it right now. At least he still had
that much self-control. But tomorrow?

Six

F
iona woke up wondering where she was.
Bright moonlight poured through a crack in the curtains and memories of the
previous evening flooded back, making her stomach clench.

She’d slept with James Drummond.

A quick glance at the pillow next to her contradicted her
thoughts. Nope. They hadn’t slept together. They’d had hot steamy, passionate,
uninhibited sex on a leather sofa in the library of his baronial castle. Then
they’d quietly gone to their separate rooms to sleep.

What had she been thinking? It was one thing to kiss him, quite
another to rip his clothes off with wild abandon and make the beast with two
backs, shortly after figuring out how to trick him into selling her a property
she wanted. He had no idea who she was or that she was here for a form of
revenge.

Should she be proud of herself for successfully seducing James
into a false sense of security? Maybe some people would be, but she felt
disgusted by her own duplicity. The worst part was that she actually liked
James. To her horror she found him rather sweet, oddly affectionate and
passionate in a way she’d never expected.

Her own feelings surprised her. Was it her treasonous purpose
here that charged the atmosphere with sexual tension and sent desire whipping
through her body at every glance?

She didn’t think so.

In one of the universe’s cruel little jokes, she suspected that
she and James actually had a lot in common and shared a fierce physical
attraction based on simple and natural chemistry. In other words, they were a
good match.

What a shame he was going to end up hating her when he found
out she’d come here for her own reasons.

She picked up her phone to check the time. 4:30 a.m.? Ugh.
There was a message, so she replayed it, hoping for a distraction.

“Fifi, I’m worried about you.” Her father’s gruff voice. She
smiled. How sweet of him to think about her. “Don’t let that devil James
Drummond take advantage of you.” She blanched. Though had James really taken
advantage of her, or was it the other way around? Either way, her dad would be
horrified. “You can’t get the factory back. You should come home.”

The abrupt beep at the end of the message made her jump. He
wanted her to come back to Singapore and thought of it as her home? Her heart
swelled. Just a few weeks ago he’d never have thought to call her. How much
their relationship had changed already! Soon she’d be helping him rebuild his
business and his pride and they’d embrace a bright future together.

It would be midday in Singapore. Should she call him to
reassure him? Or would she just feel more deceptive when she told him everything
was fine while her insides still throbbed with sense memories of last night?

The thought of lying there wide-awake for another three or four
hours made her want to run around screaming, so she dialed his number.

“Fifi, you need to come home.” His immediate command made her
smile.

“Hi, Dad. Don’t worry about me. I’m enjoying Scotland.”

“That’s what I’m worried about!”

She wanted to laugh, except that his worries were well-founded.
“James has no idea who I am, so don’t fret. I’ll be back before you know it.”
Her mind tried to crank out new possibilities that could contain this mess
somewhat. “What about if I help you find a new building for your factory?”

“Bah. I’m too old to start again.”

“Nonsense. You’re not even sixty! I could help you figure out a
new business plan. It would be fun.” Then she wouldn’t have to worry about
tricking James and they could start all over again on a different footing. She
could buy her father a factory in a far more sensible industrial area with much
lower taxes, and he could rebuild his business, with her emotional and financial
support. “That wasn’t a good spot for a factory, anyway. The neighborhood got
too fancy.”

“That’s what made it valuable. I was going to sell that land
and make my fortune.”

Then you should have paid your
taxes.
She held her tongue. The taxes had spiraled out of control as
the value of the land rose, and her dad had stubbornly clung to the factory when
his profits no longer covered the expenses. He was one of the few people who
failed to benefit from Singapore’s rapid growth as a world business center. “Why
don’t you try a different kind of business? What about another restaurant?” He’d
had a chain of steakhouses or something similar. At least that’s what her mom
said.

“No thanks. Customers give me a bellyache.”

She laughed. Her dad’s people skills did not seem to be that
great. She could imagine him barking at anyone who dared to complain about the
food. “What about something that services hotels or shipping so you’re cashing
in on the new economy?”

“Handbags and shoes made me a rich man, Fifi. They’re what I
know and what I like.”

Her heart sank. He was so stubborn. Apparently getting his
accursed factory back was the only way to make him happy, and he obviously did
want it, no matter what he said. Even though making dated handbags that couldn’t
compete with Chinese exports sounded like a sinkhole for money.

Unless… Maybe she could help him with rebranding and bring to
life the high-end luxury retail store she’d made up to humor James. Now she did
laugh. Was her little white lie the way to make everyone happy? “I know, Dad.
It’s what you love. I get it, and I’ll make sure you get it back.”

“You’re a daughter any man would be proud of. Come home soon,
Fifi.” Characteristically abrupt, he hung up, leaving her listening to a dial
tone with a mix of confusion and happiness. Okay, so the situation was
complicated. She’d just have to negotiate it the best way she could. If only she
could give her dad the money. But he was a man of fierce convictions who held
tightly to what he believed, and she admired that. She wanted him to feel the
same way about her, and all this would be worth it in the end when she could
stand arm in arm with her dad, both of them successful again and with a bright
future to share.

* * *

James felt a twinge of unaccustomed anxiety as he walked across
the gravel and up the steps. His early-morning conviction and enthusiasm was
fired by their unbelievably sensual night. A day of rushing around and trying to
make things happen had slapped him back to reality. By the time he finally
contacted and visited a jeweler who could make and size a ring to his exact
specifications within the day, it was already late afternoon and he’d driven for
hours and made close to thirty phone calls.

The ring, however, pulsed and throbbed in its little
velvet-lined box in the inside pocket of his jacket.

He’d obtained Fiona’s ring size last night while she was
sleeping, using one of her own shed hairs to very carefully measure and record
the size of her ring finger. The element of secrecy and wondering how he’d
explain himself if she woke up gave the whole endeavor an air of adventure and
mystery.

Would she be surprised by a proposal? Of course. And there was
always the possibility that she’d say no.

He didn’t think she would, though. Was he being arrogant?
Perhaps. Or simply realistic about the inability of most women, even
extraordinary women, to say no to an estate the size of a small country and a
large fortune accessible in any liquid currency. Fiona was a practical woman,
and he felt sure he could convince her of the merits of marriage.

He also hoped he could do it before the all-important board
meeting on Tuesday of next week.

A fire crackled in the grate of the great hall when he entered.
Odd for this time of year.

“Afternoon, sir, let me take your coat.” Lizzie, the
housekeeper, approached. Then she whispered, “She said it was a bit chilly and
asked to light the fire.”

“Why not? I know it’s still autumn and balmy for us, but
compared to Singapore or California, it’s downright freezing.” He smiled. He
liked that Fiona had felt free to make herself at home in the place that he
hoped would soon be her home. At least for a few weekends a year.

Fiona stood at the sound of his voice. And smiled with what
appeared to be genuine pleasure. A strange and unfamiliar sensation started to
unfold in his chest. He realized that he was very glad to see her.

With a jolt he noticed his hand had wandered to the ring in his
pocket, and he pulled it back to his side. He’d have to find the perfect moment
for a proposal, when they were far away from the attentive ears of the staff.
And when he could argue convincingly in his own favor without being heard. “Did
you manage to keep busy today?”

“I did. I spent a few hours going through some of the rooms we
looked into yesterday. I tried out each one of the candlesticks to see if they
could possibly be a goblet stem in disguise.”

“Any luck?”

“None whatsoever.” She didn’t look sad about that. “It could
take a long time to find that cup fragment.”

“If it even exists.” Impatience zinged through him. Fiona
looked even more beautiful than the girl who had fired his imagination as he
drove like a demon on winding country roads all day. With her silky hair in a
loose knot, and a fluffy white sweater over tight, dark jeans, she looked fresh
and sexy, and his fingers itched to explore the textures and curves he’d grown
acquainted with last night.

Will you marry me?
He tested the
question in his mind and tried to imagine her saying yes, but his imagination
fell short when it came to putting words in her mouth. He’d have to wait.

They shared champagne and a walk in the garden before dinner.
After they ate, he once again banished the staff, who must have known something
was up, and they kissed and caressed, this time in the ladies’ sitting room with
its lush tapestries and a collection of watercolors by his more talented female
ancestors.

He watched and waited for the right moment to reach for the
ring, but never felt with conviction that the moment had arrived. He knew it
would be like knowing the perfect price point to buy a rising stock, or the
exact moment to go in for the kill in a meeting, and he was patient enough to
wait.

They made love in his bed—frantic and breathless, then slow and
sensual, exploring and enjoying each other’s bodies. They giggled and held each
other, and talked about all sorts of strange things he hadn’t thought about in
years: his first kiss (a girl at a dance arranged by his boarding school); his
first great ambition (to play cricket for Scotland); how many children he hoped
to have (three).

“Why three?” Her eyes shone with warmth and interest.

“I have no idea. I came up with that on the spot. I’m not sure
I’ve ever thought about it before.”

She hesitated for a moment. “And suddenly you are.”

“Yes.” The moment burned with promise. Was it time to grab the
ring from his jacket, which now lay crumpled on the floor somewhere? He didn’t
want to break up their perfect embrace. Her arms were wrapped around him like a
pair of warm angel wings. “But now it’s your turn. When was your first
kiss?”

“I was seventeen, and felt like the last girl in my grade to be
kissed. Danny Adams finally broke the curse in the parking lot behind the
bowling alley.”

“It sounds very romantic.”

“I wish it was. His braces snagged in my hair when he tried to
kiss my ear, and we never really made it back from that.”

He laughed. “I can’t picture you as a gawky teen.”

“Please don’t. It wasn’t a pretty picture. I’m so much happier
as a grown-up. And I’m totally over my first ambition of being an air force
pilot.”

He lifted a brow. “What happened?”

She grinned. “I don’t like being told what to do, so I’m
definitely better off being self-employed.”

“And how many children?” His heart pumped almost audibly. He
knew they were talking about their future, the one they’d share. He could feel
it as easily as he could feel the heat from her skin warming his own.

“Hmm. I have two younger brothers, and I admit there were times
when I wished I was an only child. But in retrospect I have to agree that three
is a nice, round number. An heir and a spare and plenty of room for someone to
be the black sheep.” She grinned.

“See? I knew there was a good reason for me picking three. We
agree on a lot of things.” A warm silence, pregnant with possibilities,
stretched between them. But it still wasn’t the time. They were building toward
it, step by step, as the pharaohs had built the pyramids. Better to take it slow
and steady and make sure all the foundations were in place, than rush and
miscalculate and show up in the boardroom next Tuesday with no momentous news to
announce.

He wasn’t at all sure the deal with SK Industries that he’d
spent a year building would go through without his change of marital status. The
chairman of the board had expressed his strong disapproval that a man of James’s
age and status had no family to speak of and went home alone each night. James
might have ignored it if it wasn’t the fifth or sixth time he’d heard the same
thing—usually second- or third-hand—in the past year. And if he hadn’t started,
silently, to agree. “Three’s a perfect number. Or even four if the last one is a
set of twins.” He stroked her cheek.

“Now I’m starting to feel tired.” She smiled, resting her head
on his chest. He couldn’t believe how comfortable he felt with her, talking
about things he’d never discussed with anyone. It only strengthened his
conviction that Fiona was the one.

Now all he had to do was convince her of that.

* * *

Fiona woke in a dreamy state the next morning, one arm still
draped across James’s broad chest. What a night. James continued to surprise
her. She tried to remind herself that she was one in a long line of women he’d
seduced and bedded and was simply the latest victim of his charms. It was hard,
though. If she didn’t know better she’d almost think he really liked her.