choices. Emma halfway expected him to select from the bawdy globes, but he stayed away from that row. He placed his globes on the table with hers. A shark. An eagle. A wolf. He was an animal lover? She wondered why he’d chosen those specific animals. Because each was a predator, perhaps? Recalling the intensity of his gaze upon occasion, Emma thought it fit.
She waited for him to make his fourth choice. Instead of reaching for a grizzly bear or even one of the dinosaurs, he surprised her by selecting one of her selections. The mask.
What was the message in that?
He watched her closely as he made his fifth selection, a truly fantastical depiction of a wizard staring into his crystal ball. Emma couldn’t begin to predict the reason behind that choice. “You are a most curious man,” she observed.
“And you are a captivating woman. Tell me about the ship.”
Bowing to what felt like the inevitable, she said, “Adventure. The ship represents adventure.”
He stared at her for a long, thoughtful moment, his gaze intense, before the light in his eyes turned knowing and he murmured, “Ah.”
Ah? What did he mean, ah? Annoyed, Emma folded her arms and asked him. “What do you mean, ‘ah’?”
He laughed and the sound skittered across her skin like a caress. “I mean ‘ah’ I’m going to enjoy this weekend.”
Emma didn’t know whether to take that as a threat or a promise.
“Now, I’ll leave you to settle in,” Dair MacRae continued. “Jake has asked all his guests to congregate on the back lawn in…” MacRae checked a pocket watch “…half an hour. I trust that will be convenient for you?”
He didn’t wait for her response, but turned to leave. Prodded by an emotion she didn’t understand, Emma stepped forward and insisted, “I am here for the contest, Mr. MacRae.”
At the doorway, he paused. “Dair. And there are many kinds of contests, Emma. You and I are engaged in one of infinite, intriguing possibilities. I look forward to discovering them…together.”
All the energy seemed sucked from the room as he shut the door behind him. Her knees weak, her heartbeat fluttering, Emma sank into the nearest seat. Contests. Adventure. Dair MacRae.
Deep within her, the McBride Menace mischief-maker stirred.
D AIR RETREATED TO HIS OWN suite across the hall from Emma. There, courtesy of transatlantic telegraph lines and Angus Fraser’s man, Tompkins, he reviewed his dossier on the eldest McBride sister once again.
So the woman dreamed of adventure, did she? He scanned the document, absently rubbing his temple. Eldest of six children. Responsible, civic-minded, former president of the Fort Worth Literary Society. A talented singer. An excellent shot. Now, that’s curious. But then, she was a Texan.
And very possibly perfect for his purposes. She might be the solution to his Piney Woods problem.
Dair was a believer in fate. Was fate the reason he and Emma met in front of a shop window moments before Sister Mary Margaret changed his plans? Perhaps. He hoped so. He’d like to get this situation settled so he could get on with the business of dying.
So, was Emma Tate the answer to his troubles? Reviewing the dossier once again, he turned to the page listing her romantic entanglements. Married at age twenty to a rancher, Casey Tate. Widowed three months later. No significant extended relationship since then.
On the surface she appeared perfect. He thought of what her snow globe choices had told him. She valued family, her work. He suspected the mask might have been a symbol of this masquerade that had brought her to Chatham Park. She’d expressed a need for adventure. Physical adventure, he wondered? Or…romantic?
The woman gave all appearances of being ripe for the plucking. His mouth twisted with a wry smile. Plucking her would present no hardship on his part. A pleasant change from his recent dealings with the duchess.
Dair walked to the window and gazed down at the lawn where the bride
She waited for him to make his fourth choice. Instead of reaching for a grizzly bear or even one of the dinosaurs, he surprised her by selecting one of her selections. The mask.
What was the message in that?
He watched her closely as he made his fifth selection, a truly fantastical depiction of a wizard staring into his crystal ball. Emma couldn’t begin to predict the reason behind that choice. “You are a most curious man,” she observed.
“And you are a captivating woman. Tell me about the ship.”
Bowing to what felt like the inevitable, she said, “Adventure. The ship represents adventure.”
He stared at her for a long, thoughtful moment, his gaze intense, before the light in his eyes turned knowing and he murmured, “Ah.”
Ah? What did he mean, ah? Annoyed, Emma folded her arms and asked him. “What do you mean, ‘ah’?”
He laughed and the sound skittered across her skin like a caress. “I mean ‘ah’ I’m going to enjoy this weekend.”
Emma didn’t know whether to take that as a threat or a promise.
“Now, I’ll leave you to settle in,” Dair MacRae continued. “Jake has asked all his guests to congregate on the back lawn in…” MacRae checked a pocket watch “…half an hour. I trust that will be convenient for you?”
He didn’t wait for her response, but turned to leave. Prodded by an emotion she didn’t understand, Emma stepped forward and insisted, “I am here for the contest, Mr. MacRae.”
At the doorway, he paused. “Dair. And there are many kinds of contests, Emma. You and I are engaged in one of infinite, intriguing possibilities. I look forward to discovering them…together.”
All the energy seemed sucked from the room as he shut the door behind him. Her knees weak, her heartbeat fluttering, Emma sank into the nearest seat. Contests. Adventure. Dair MacRae.
Deep within her, the McBride Menace mischief-maker stirred.
D AIR RETREATED TO HIS OWN suite across the hall from Emma. There, courtesy of transatlantic telegraph lines and Angus Fraser’s man, Tompkins, he reviewed his dossier on the eldest McBride sister once again.
So the woman dreamed of adventure, did she? He scanned the document, absently rubbing his temple. Eldest of six children. Responsible, civic-minded, former president of the Fort Worth Literary Society. A talented singer. An excellent shot. Now, that’s curious. But then, she was a Texan.
And very possibly perfect for his purposes. She might be the solution to his Piney Woods problem.
Dair was a believer in fate. Was fate the reason he and Emma met in front of a shop window moments before Sister Mary Margaret changed his plans? Perhaps. He hoped so. He’d like to get this situation settled so he could get on with the business of dying.
So, was Emma Tate the answer to his troubles? Reviewing the dossier once again, he turned to the page listing her romantic entanglements. Married at age twenty to a rancher, Casey Tate. Widowed three months later. No significant extended relationship since then.
On the surface she appeared perfect. He thought of what her snow globe choices had told him. She valued family, her work. He suspected the mask might have been a symbol of this masquerade that had brought her to Chatham Park. She’d expressed a need for adventure. Physical adventure, he wondered? Or…romantic?
The woman gave all appearances of being ripe for the plucking. His mouth twisted with a wry smile. Plucking her would present no hardship on his part. A pleasant change from his recent dealings with the duchess.
Dair walked to the window and gazed down at the lawn where the bride
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