Possessed by a Warrior Page 8

  “Chloe.”

  Sam chose that moment to stride into the room, circling close to the bookcases until he reached the windows. He unhooked the heavy velvet curtain from the brass hook that held it in an artful drape. The fabric fell, blocking out every scrap of sun.

  Annoyance did a dance with relief. The darkness was kinder to Chloe’s aching head, but now she couldn’t see properly. She cleared her throat and flicked on the desk lamp, angling the shade to the wall. “Allergic to sunlight?”

  “I need more sleep.” He looked pale, dark stubble gracing his jaw. The morning-after look suited him. Mind you, he could have dressed as one of Santa’s elves and still looked good.

  “Coffee?” Chloe waved at the silver service the housekeeper had brought in response to her request for a simple cup of java.

  Sam shook his head. “Not unless it’s decaf.”

  “Sorry, it’s fully loaded. I needed the jolt after last night.” She studied him, enjoying the view for a moment. “How’s your wolf?”

  “I sent him home.”

  And where is home? Chloe had a fleeting image of a wolf getting on a Greyhound bus, backpack clenched in its fangs, but let the subject drop. She had enough to worry about.

  “I want you to go home, too,” he said. “It would be safer.”

  “I can look after myself.” After all, she’d found the gun. She could shoot.

  “Against trained hit men?”

  Maybe not. “I thought these were thieves.”

  “I doubt that’s all they are.”

  Chloe crossed her legs and watched him watch her do it. There was definitely a spark of interest between them. She wondered what would happen if she blew on it oh so gently.

  Surprised by the bold thought, she pulled the hem of her skirt down. “I’m staying until the guests are gone.”

  “Your guests have left.”

  That was true. Half had departed before breakfast, the rest around midmorning. “I guess your pet scared them off.”

  The corners of Sam’s mouth twitched. “Perhaps.”

  “Wolves rock.”

  “So, if there are no guests, how come you’re not packing?”

  She’d felt lighter for a moment, but reality crashed back in. “I have to sell this place, remember? I still have the Realtor to deal with. He called this morning and we’re booked for next week. I wanted something sooner, but it’s hard to get someone capable of representing a property like this. This guy has contacts in the right circles.”

  Sam glanced around the room. “Too bad you can’t keep Oakwood.”

  Chloe swallowed hard. “I lived here all through high school. But, even if I could afford the upkeep, I have to divide the estate.”

  He swore softly. “I wish there was some other way.”

  “Me, too.”

  “You shouldn’t have to deal with this.” His voice was gentle. “Why don’t you go home? I’m co-executor. I can deal with the Realtor.”

  For a moment, she nearly agreed, but she knew better than to believe it when someone said they’d be there for her. That’s how a girl got left at the altar. “I don’t—”

  He held up a silencing hand. “I need to stay here anyway to arrange for the dress to be returned to Marcari. It’s too valuable to pop in a box and take down to the FedEx office.”

  “Wait a minute.” Chloe uncrossed her legs, leaning forward across the desk. “You know who to call? You’ve got the head of the kingdom’s security on your speed dial?”

  “I have his number, yes.”

  “Well, I’d already figured out that you know more than your average royalty watcher, but wow.” A smidgen of sarcasm crept into her words. “You might have mentioned this last night. Are you, say, on the trail of the diamonds? A special agent on crown-jewels detail?”

  “No, not that.” He looked down, not quite abashed but clearly caught wrong-footed. “Actually, Jack worked with me on some security issues. That’s my line of work. I didn’t know the diamonds were here any more than you did.”

  She heard the ring of truth. Maybe not the whole truth, but it was progress. Her gaze lingered on Sam’s face, the hard angles and strong bones. He looked like an operative of some kind. Stern. Commanding. Bossy. That wasn’t always easy to be around. Would Sam be any different?

  She picked up a pen, turning it over and over in her fingers. “So, once you call, what then? Does the head of the royal guard show up with a garment bag?”

  That shadow of a smile was more pronounced this time. “More or less. Him and a small army of men in black.”

  “For one dress.”

  Sam’s gray eyes met hers. She caught a glimpse of the predator she’d seen last night. Her skin prickled, as if she were a fraction too close to a fire.

  “For the diamonds,” he corrected her. “And it’s not just jewel thieves they’re worried about. There’s more than money at stake. There are their old enemies, the Vidonese, to consider. If they’re involved, the game is for blood and honor, as well.”

  Chloe leaned back in the leather desk chair, no longer tired. “So how come the two countries both think the diamonds belong to them?”

  Sam paced to the window, staying in the shadows but gazing out through a chink in the curtains. The gesture reminded her of a dog pining to go outside. “It’s a long story, and I don’t know all of it.”

  “Then tell me what you do know.”

  “You’re changing the subject.”

  “I love stories.”

  “This one doesn’t have an end.”

  “The best ones don’t.”

  He didn’t reply, but kept looking out the window, his back to her.

  Chloe watched the set of his shoulders. He was tense, maybe even angry, but she wasn’t going to give in and go home like an obedient dog. Or wolf. “I suppose it starts something like ‘A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away...’”

  She heard a low reluctant chuckle, and then he began. “A long, long time ago, just after the fall of Rome, the Kingdoms of Vidon and Marcari were one.”

  Chloe visualized the map of the Mediterranean. The two tiny kingdoms sat next to each other on the north edge of the sea. “Okay.”

  “During the time of the Crusades, the land was divided equally between two warring brothers.”

  Sam turned from the window, blinking as if that tiny amount of sunlight had hurt his eyes. Chloe waited while he sank into the chair opposite the desk, stretching out his long legs. For a moment, he looked lost in thought, his big, strong body in perfect repose. “The eldest brother, Vidon, pursued dreams of wealth and military conquest. Marcari, the younger, followed the path of books and knowledge. Both were power-hungry and a fierce rivalry grew between them.”

  He sat forward, and Chloe was caught for a moment by his intense gray gaze. It was hypnotic, almost invasive. Her mouth went dry, a sweet ache starting low in her belly. His very presence made her feel as if she were dissolving into a puddle of need, and she couldn’t begin to explain why. It wasn’t any one thing he did. It was just...Sam. Gorgeous and utterly wrong for her.

  He was looking at her as if she were the last chocolate brownie on the planet.

  He leaned forward another degree. She struggled to take in what he was saying, and then struggled again to make sense of it. “Then their youngest brother returned from the Holy Land with a great fortune in gems, thinking to share it with his brothers, for his heart was more generous by far. Tempted by the beautiful stones, the kings of Vidon and Marcari each separately schemed to cheat his siblings of the glittering prize. Unexpectedly—or perhaps not—the youngest brother was assassinated as he slept. Though the true killer was never discovered, Vidon and Marcari quickly accused one another. At once a huge battle raged between them, and the kingdoms have been at war ever since. The Kin
gdoms of Vidon and Marcari have fought so long that some factions cannot accept the possibility of peace. Their pride forbids it. The Knights of Vidon have made it clear that they will not permit a union between the two kingdoms.”

  Forcing herself to look away, Chloe poured more coffee out of the pot. She didn’t want it, but she had to break the spell he had over her. Her heart was beating fast, her hands slippery with perspiration. “You mean a marriage. The war would have ended with the wedding.”

  Sam smiled, just a faint curl of the lower lip. She would have bet good money he was aware of the effect he’d just had on her. “The wedding. Yes, peace was the plan. Finally, the wealth would have been shared as was the intention of the youngest brother, Armand Silverhand, almost a thousand years ago. Keep in mind the diamonds form only a small part of the treasure.”

  That made Chloe blink. “Really?”

  “There are far more valuable pieces in the collection—which Marcari has in its treasury, by the way. They beat Vidon in that first terrible fight for possession of the jewels.”

  “More valuable than what’s on that dress?”

  “Absolutely. Emeralds, rubies, topazes, moonstones. All specimens of the first quality, all of exceptional size and beauty. I don’t know what battles Silverhand fought during the Crusades, but I have a feeling he hit a treasury somewhere along the route.”

  “And people are still robbing to capture the same prize.” For a second, she could feel her attacker’s breath on her neck, and she shivered.

  Sam saw it. “Which is why I’d rather you were miles away from that dress.”

  Chloe shook her head.

  He frowned at that. “What’s so important that you’re willing to risk your safety?”

  “I have a business to run, for starters. I’m not blowing off a client like this one.”

  Exasperation brought a hint of color to his cheekbones. “Fine.”

  “Right. And on top of that, this is my uncle Jack’s estate, which I’m responsible—”

  “Half-responsible.”

  “Okay, half-responsible for. Furthermore, your case is about a wedding, which is my professional area of interest. I could be of help. And, on top of all that, I was the one who was attacked last night. This is my inheritance they’re after. I know you don’t want me involved, but I already am.”

  She paused for breath, watching Sam’s face. He’d gone into brick-wall mode. Irritation threw cold water on her hormones. She swore under her breath. If she didn’t stand her ground, he would steamroll right over her. The next words came out in soft, precise syllables. “Being rescued is very much appreciated, believe me. I would have died last night but for you. However, I’m intelligent, not reckless. I don’t need to go down the basement stairs to confront the monster. If kept informed, I can take reasonable precautions.”

  Sam’s eyebrows lifted. His expression said he was letting her win. “Very well, but I have rules.”

  “Good for you. Your rules are not mine.”

  “They are now.”

  They locked gazes, neither giving an inch. Chloe could sense his impatience, but she wasn’t backing down. If she did, she would disappear from view, another problem tagged, bagged and forgotten.

  Perversely, as much as she wanted to prove she could look after herself, she wanted very much to remain Sam Ralston’s problem. Was that what was making her so stubborn?

  “What?” she finally snapped. “What are your rules?”

  “You don’t go anywhere without a bodyguard. That’s me, Winspear or Kenyon.”

  “You can’t enforce that.”

  “I found one of the security guards shot dead last night.”

  Chloe felt her breath stick like a barb in her throat. “Who?”

  “A guy named Will Tyler. Did you know him?”

  Chloe shook her head. “Just the name and face. He was new.”

  “It looks like he was the getaway driver.”

  Not sure what to say, Chloe picked up her coffee, staring into the cup. It was bad enough that someone had attacked her. Now a man was dead. An awful numbness crept up her body. Am I really so tough? Should I just leave?

  “Chloe?” Sam prompted.

  She cleared her throat, fighting back a prick of tears. “I can’t believe Jack’s staff would turn against him. Or me. He treated them like family.”

  “The diamonds represent a lot of money. He could have been a plant, Chloe.” He shrugged, just a slight lift of the shoulder. “Plus, there are all the political implications of the royal marriage. Not everyone wants peace.”

  She swallowed hard. “That’s crazy.”

  “That’s why you don’t set foot out the door without one of us. I’m not joking. From now on, I’m your shadow.”

  Perhaps she’d hit her limit for dread, or maybe it was the lack of sleep, but his statement struck her as funny. She gave a short laugh. “Is that why you always avoid the sun?”

  He looked at her sharply. “What do you mean?”

  “Aren’t shadows made of darkness?”

  His smile was wry, but there was something softer in it, too. “Darkness still needs light to define us.”

  Us? Chloe wondered, but her thoughts scattered as Sam put his hand over hers, his thumb caressing her wrist. The cool, steady touch swept logic aside and, along with that, all her defenses. She let herself ride the swell of feeling. My shadow. The darkness that is always with me. That would always be touching her, because that was the way nature had made it.

  Then he lifted her hand, as he had done last night, and brushed his lips against her fingers. Chloe’s heart stuttered, a flame in a new and unfamiliar breeze.

  He hadn’t simply told her a fairy tale of gems and kings of old. He’d walked straight out of one.

  Chapter 9

  Later that afternoon, Chloe’s fairy tale mood crumbled to despair.

  I’ll never sell happily ever after. Not here. Not unless someone is marrying their gun.

  She’d never been to Jack’s offices in town. They didn’t resemble his house in the least. The sign on the door of the top floor suite said Gravesend Security. The decor was all hard steel edges and industrial grays. The pictures on the waiting room walls were hung with artful portraits of motorized vehicles designed to vaporize small towns. If Chloe’s business represented Venus, this was definitely Mars’s clubhouse.

  Chloe knew where she could rent a perfectly nice meeting room just blocks away, but the large windows and street level entrance hadn’t met Sam’s security requirements. Instead, he’d insisted they come here, where the offices occupied the top floor. It made sense, he’d said, because the admin offices of Gravesend would be empty on the weekend and he had to pick up some files there anyway. He could combine business with the infinite pleasure of being her bodyguard. After a brief protest, and possibly because of that kiss to her fingertips, she’d given in.

  To find herself in the least romantic office space on the planet. Just to make matters worse, Sam had dressed in head-to-toe black Grim Reaper chic. With pitch-black sunglasses. Indoors. He looks like a GQ undertaker. Handsome as sin, but he didn’t fit with the happy, friendly Chloe’s Occasions image.

  As soon as they’d reached the suite of offices, Sam had prowled from room to room, checking for intruders. Any that did venture into Gravesend would have had to be brave with so much testosterone oozing from the walls.

  “It’s clear,” Sam announced, relaxing an infinitesimal degree.

  “Great,” Chloe replied, taking her armload of bridal magazines to the small conference room and dumping them on the table. Sam followed with her briefcase, setting it down while she sighed at the bland walls. “I wish I’d thought to bring some flowers.”

  Sam whipped out his cell, hitting a speed-dial number.

  “Who
are you calling?”

  Sam gave a brisk smile. “This whole building is Gravesend Security. There are people in the operations center monitoring surveillance equipment. There’s always a gofer for coffee runs, things like that.”

  His focus shifted to a voice on the phone. “Hello, Ralston here. We need flowers on twelve.” He looked up from his call. “Type and quantity?”

  Chloe waved her hands in the air. “Mix bouquet about so big? In a vase?”

  “Mixed bouquet. Container. Floral estimate forty-five centimeters across. Stat. Clients are incoming at fifteen hundred hours.” He thumbed off the phone, looking pleased with himself.

  “Thank you,” she replied, struggling to wrap her mind around the conversation. Who said “stat” when ordering a bouquet?

  She fanned the magazines on the table, made coffee and tried to soften the look of the place as best she could. There weren’t any knickknacks around and, while opening the blinds would have made the place brighter, Sam probably wouldn’t have liked it. For all her efforts, the place still had as much personality as the inside of a metal filing cabinet.

  Elaine Fallon arrived ten minutes early. Despite her monied background, she was simply dressed in slacks and a sweater, her soft brown hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. She looked every inch the overworked professor, down to the courier bag stuffed with what looked like exam booklets waiting to be marked.

  “Do you mind?” Elaine asked, pulling out a plastic container of salad and a fork. “It’s the only chance I’m going to get for lunch.”

  “Not at all.” Chloe had the feeling the woman was so busy she lived by a rigorously planned schedule.

  “Thanks. So where do you want to start?”

  “Have you decided on where you’re going for your honeymoon? Last time we talked, that was still up in the air.” That choice often gave Chloe a good clue to what they considered fun. That was an excellent building block of information to work from.

  “Cancún,” she replied between bites of spinach. “There’s a Fibonacci Group conference on integers right around that time. I’m presenting the keynote.”