Enchantment & Bridge of Dreams by Christina Skye Page A

soul into the act. Perhaps that’s what’s really troubling you, Miss Mallory—the thought that you’re just not up to the temptation of staying at Draycott Abbey. With me,” he added.
    â€œDon’t flatter yourself, Lord—Nicholas! Resisting you will be the easiest thing I’ve ever done!”
    â€œIn that case, I fail to see any reason for your reluctance. It will be a simple business proposition, nothing more.”
    Kacey frowned. He was right, of course. There was no reason for all this anxiety. Her days would be spent in solitude up in the long gallery, doing the work that she loved best.
    Her frown deepened. But there’d always be the nights, a voice whispered. And you’re not half so immune to this man as you’d like to believe.
    She looked down at her plate, all fruit and florals coiling against a pink porcelain background. Like everything about this house, the china was old and tasteful and colossally expensive.
    In tense silence, she pushed the plate away.
    So what’s the problem? she asked herself. Just say no and be done with it.
    Her lips moved. To her total shock, the words that tumbled out sounded strangely like “All right, I’ll do it.”
    A hint of emotion flickered over Draycott’s chiseled features—a look that was too hard for relief and too wary for triumph. “I’m pleased to hear it. I’ll have a suite prepared for you on the second floor. Marston will see to whatever you require in the way of materials and supplies, although I expect you will have brought most of that sort of thing with you. And if you need anything else, just—”
    â€œImpossible,” Kacey said flatly, already regretting her moment of weakness. “No suite—not here in the main house. It’s the gatehouse or nothing at all.”
    Draycott eased back in his chair. The sun on his white shirt was very nearly blinding, enhancing the dark bronze of his neck and face.
    His eyes began to glitter dangerously. He took his time about answering, studying the wave of crimson that swept her cheeks. “That would be entirely out of the question, I’m afraid,” he said flatly.
    â€œNow, how did I know you were going to say that?” Kacey snapped. “In that case, our arrangement is off, too.” She tosseddown her napkin and pushed up from her chair. “Good day, Lord Draycott. I wish I could say it’s been a pleasure.”
    The Englishman’s eyes narrowed. “Are you always this irascible, Miss Mallory? Or is it merely I who have the dubious honor of being able to provoke you to fury?”
    Dimly, Kacey realized her behavior was totally out of character, but she wasn’t about to admit that to this insufferable egotist!
    Draycott’s dark eyes mocked her. “I see. In that case, I must remember to stay well out of your way in the future.”
    It was a complete and total lie, of course. Nicholas Draycott only intended to get closer and closer to her. For some reason, that challenge had become at least as important to him as the restoration of the Whistler.
    Kacey’s fingers gripped the back of her chair. “That will hardly be necessary. For we have no future, you and I. That, I promise you!”
    Draycott looked down. “I see I shall have to tell you the truth. You see, in the last weeks there have been several…incidents here at the abbey. Oh, nothing serious—a rake disappearing here, a chair there. Nothing to worry about.” He eyes turned hard. “Until last week, that is.”
    â€œAnd then?”
    â€œSomeone broke into the gatehouse—ransacked the place royally. One very fine Turner landscape was slashed and two more were stolen. No one was hurt, thank goodness.”
    â€œWas the thief caught?”
    â€œUnfortunately, no. The police have had a look, but the culprit was damnably thorough. No prints. No clues of any sort.”
    That was not quite true