“They’re worthy of a museum display, but they have a good home here.” He could hardly tell her that The Experts had documents in their archives that traced the provenance of all of the weapons. They’d all, in one lifetime or another, belonged to him.
Hugging herself, Molly glanced at him. “Do you collect anything?”
“I have a few antique weapons of my own. Most are packed away until I get my own place.”
“Are you going to buy a house in Cat’s Paw Cove?” she asked.
“I expect so. I haven’t found a place that feels like home yet.”
She nodded then rubbed her arms with her hands. The movement reminded him why he’d brought her to up to the apartment, and he silently scolded himself for not taking care of her sooner.
“Stay there.” Without waiting for her to reply, he crossed the apartment, discreetly reinforcing the locking spell on the front door as he went. He headed to his bedroom, to the oak chest of drawers holding his clothes, and took out a white cotton T-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants. He didn’t have any women’s undies, but hopefully, she could make do with what she was already wearing…or go without them. The thought made his blood run a little hotter before he regained his composure.
He grabbed a clean towel from his ensuite bathroom and returned to the living room. She’d stayed by the weapons, although her expression had turned uneasy. Her gaze dropped to the items he was holding.
He held them out. “The clothes aren’t high fashion, but they’re clean.”
She didn’t take them. “That’s very nice of you, but—”
“If you stay in your wet clothes, you might catch a chill. You don’t want that, do you?”
Molly shook her head. “That’s the last thing I want.”
“The bathroom is down the hall,” he said, pointing. “On the left. There’s a hairdryer in the cupboard under the sink if you need it.”
“Okay. Thanks.” She stepped out of her shoes and took the towel and clothes from him. Lucian waited until he heard the lock on the bathroom door engage then returned to his bedroom, stripped out of his wet garments, and dried off. He pulled on a fresh pair of black jeans and a hunter-green polo shirt and ran a comb through his hair before heading to the kitchen. As he passed the bathroom door, the hairdryer switched on, its high-pitched hum competing with the noise of the storm still raging outside.
“What’s the plan tonight, Lucian?” Galahad asked from the leather chair, where he’d been washing his ruff. “Tell me before she turns off the hairdryer.”
“Same plan as before: Get close to her to find out what holds the dark magic.”
“When you say close…?”
“I mean, get her to—”
“Lock lips with you? Then carry her off to your bedroom?”
Enticing thoughts. Clearing his throat, Lucian opened the fridge and looked over the assortment of food and beverages. “I was going to say, for now, continue to win her trust.”
The squire growled. “How totally lame.”
Lucian got a lemon out of the crisper drawer, closed the fridge, and met the feline’s gaze. “I think you mean sensible.”
“Sensible? Must I remind you that in the store, you threatened to go all medieval on her? Also, you were once a bad-ass who wooed ladies all over England. So, yeah, for you, the plan’s lame.”
Lucian sighed, for it was tough to compete with the legend he’d once been. “I threatened to go all medieval on her in order to protect her, since she seemed determined to put herself in danger. Thankfully my threat worked.”
“This time,” Galahad said dryly. “Next time? Probably not.”
“Well, she’s here now, and she won’t be leaving until I allow it. I have many hours to work on her trust.”
“You’d better succeed. Julius’s orders…”
Lucian took a knife from the block on the kitchen counter. “Regardless of what he’s ordered me to do, I’m not going to treat Molly as though I’m a noble lord and she’s a common wench to do with as I please.”
The cat smirked. “That could be one of her bedroom fantasies.”
“Galahad!”
“What? I’m just trying to help. You said before you were thinking about seducing her.”
“That’s still an option. But, given a choice, I’d rather have her trusting and willing.”
Mischief lit the squire’s eyes. “Do I get to be a bad kitty now? Please?”
“No,” Lucian said firmly.
“But—”
“Thanks, but I can handle the situation myself.”
“Fine, but if I were you….”
The squire was clearly going to give advice whether Lucian wanted it or not. Shaking his head, Lucian set the knife and lemon on a cutting board and switched on the kettle.
“I’d make her a Hot Toddy,” Galahad said.
“Already ahead of you on that.” Lucian went to the liquor cabinet for his grandfather’s bottle of whiskey.
“Make it stronger than usual. Be sure to tell her the drink will help warm her up and make her feel better. Then sit beside her on the sofa. Show her what you found on your grandfather’s computer while easing closer, little by little.”
Lucian snorted and cut the lemon in half. “Molly’s going to notice if I move closer.”
“Probably, but you’ll already have won her over with your wit and charm. The whiskey will have kicked in, and she’ll be relaxed and begging for you to take her in your arms and kiss her.”
Lucian shook his head. “You think you’ve got it all figured out.”
“It’s a great plan. Admit it.”
“It’s a plan,” Lucian said with care. “However—”
The humming noise of the hairdryer stopped.
“Get ready,” Galahad said. “She’ll be heading our way.”
Molly set the dryer down on the bathroom counter and ran her comb through her hair. She felt a whole lot better than she had ten minutes ago. After a quick shower to help her warm up, she’d dried her bra and panties as well as her hair with the dryer. While Lucian’s T-shirt and sweatpants were too large for her smaller frame, they were soft against her skin and very comfy.
She wouldn’t be wearing his clothes for long, though. As soon as the storm eased up, she’d be driving home.
Molly hung the towel and her wet clothes over the shower curtain rail, stowed the dryer back in the cupboard, and picked up her purse. When she stepped into the hallway, she saw Lucian standing in the kitchen. He’d changed his clothes in the time she’d been in the bathroom, but his hair still looked tousled.
“Feel better?” he asked.
“Much.” She padded barefoot across the hardwood floor to the kitchen. Lucian had put the kettle on to boil, and an open bottle of whiskey sat beside two mugs on the gleaming granite counter.
Lucian’s gaze wandered over her. “I like seeing you in my clothes.”
She smiled, unable to tamp down her delight. “They’re so comfortable, I might not give them back.”
He whistled. “You’re going to steal them? After I heroically rescued you tonight?”
Chuckling, she leaned back against the island opposite him. “Geez, you do get kind of dramatic.”
“I did rescue you—” The lights dimmed then flickered. “Damn, I do hope we don’t lose power.”
“Has it gone out before during storms?”
“Yeah.” The boiling kettle shut off, and Lucian poured water into the mugs. “This building has older wiring that can be unreliable.” He handed her a mug. “We do have candles and flashlights, though, just in case.”
Thunder crashed overhead, swiftly followed by flashes of lightning. As she wondered how long she’d be staying at Lucian’s apartment, the drink’s spicy scent wafted up to her. “Smells good. What is it?”
“A Hot Toddy.”
“Yum.”
“Are you hungry? I can fix some soup or heat up some of the stroganoff Cora brought me.”
“I’m fine. Thanks, t
hough.”
Lucian gestured to the sofa. “Let’s sit down, shall we?”
She crossed to the sofa and sank down onto the buttery leather. Lucian’s grandfather obviously had expensive taste. Her mom’s faded, sagging upholstered suite was pretty sad compared to these furnishings.
Lucian brought over his laptop bag and set it on the coffee table, along with his drink. He took out his computer and switched it on. Galahad, curled up on the nearby chair, watched them and purred.
After putting her purse down by the nearest table leg, she sipped the Hot Toddy. The blended flavors of whiskey, honey, and lemon warmed her tongue. The drink was delicious, but Lucian had been generous with the liquor. She didn’t want to get tipsy. That wouldn’t be clever. While Lucian seemed to be an honorable guy, she didn’t know him all that well.
Also, once the storm had died down, she’d need to head home, and she didn’t drink and drive. She’d just have to down the Hot Toddy slowly and, if necessary, not finish it.
If the clock in the entertainment unit was correct, the paranormal society meeting had been scheduled to start a few minutes ago. “I hope I’ll still get a chance to talk to Cora and the others about my mom.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you do,” Lucian said. “I have Cora’s dish, which she wants back.”
As he clicked open files on his laptop, she studied his profile: strong brow, chiseled cheekbone, unruly beard as dark as his hair. She didn’t usually care for facial hair on men, but Lucian’s enhanced his roguishness.
Her fingers tightened on the mug. What would it be like to love him and to be loved by him in return? Loneliness tugged at her, because she missed being in a relationship and being cherished by a partner. A different, keener ache stirred as well, one that reminded her of how feminine and powerful she felt wearing the antique necklace. How she missed kissing, touching, sex—
Galahad was staring at her; the same intense, knowing look that had unnerved her before. Her face heated, because he couldn’t possibly know her thoughts, but still….
Thunder exploded outside. She jumped, sloshing her drink onto the sofa.
“Oh, no! I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Lucian squeezed her arm. “I’ll get some paper towel.”
“I’ll get it.” Molly set down her drink and rose, even as the lights dimmed and flickered. “I’m guessing it’s in the kitchen?” She started across the room.
“Yes, it’s—”
A sizzling boom outside.
The room went black.
The room plunged into darkness, apart from the glow from the laptop screen.
“This night just gets better and better,” Galahad drawled.
Molly sucked in a sharp breath. “Lucian—”
He stood, concern churning within him. She could get hurt trying to make her way to the kitchen. “Stay where you are, okay?”
“Yes.”
Lucian recognized the thud of Galahad jumping down from the chair as he switched on his cell phone flashlight. Molly’s eyes looked huge and round in the shadowy darkness.
“Take my hand,” he said. “Come sit back down.”
Her fingers slid into his. “We need to get paper towel first. I’ll never forgive myself if I damage the sofa.”
“Okay.” He’d also seen regular flashlights in one of the kitchen drawers. He guided her to the kitchen and retrieved the flashlights. “One for you, and one for me.” He handed her the larger one and several sheets of paper towel.
Molly switched on her flashlight and headed back to the sofa, while he retrieved his grandfather’s box of candles and matches. As he returned to the living room, his flashlight shined on her, bent at the waist and swabbing at the leather. The cotton sweatpants stretched snugly over her rear: one of the most shapely bottoms he’d ever seen.
Lucian halted, his throat going dry.
“Kitty, you’re getting in the way,” Molly said.
The flick of the feline’s tail alerted Lucian that the squire was on the sofa beside Molly and batting at the paper towel.
“Galahad,” Lucian said sternly.
“Hey, if I’m lucky, she’ll pet me or pick me up.” The squire flopped onto his side to show his fluffy belly and swatted at her hand.
“You are cheeky tonight,” Molly cooed, stroking the cat.
“Every day, babe.” Galahad purred.
Confident Molly would move the feline if he became too much of a nuisance, Lucian put the box on the coffee table and set up some candles, their flickering golden light softening the room’s shadows. After throwing away the paper towel, Molly came back to the sofa. Lucian sat and nudged Galahad out of the way so she could sit again.
“Yeah, I know. Three’s a crowd.” Galahad jumped to the floor.
“He does like to talk.” Molly moved to sit down. “He’d get along well with my mother’s cats—Oh!”
Galahad yowled and tore across the living room.
Molly dropped her flashlight, wobbled and then careened sideways.
Lucian’s heart lurched. She was falling toward him.
On instinct, he reached to catch her. His arms slid around her, and as she fell, he guided her down into his lap.
Lying on her back, she blinked hard and stared up at him, her head supported by his left arm. Candlelight shimmered on her hair spilling around her.
So lovely.
“Are you all right?” Lucian asked, his voice a husky rasp.
She nodded. “Galahad—?”
“He’s fine.”
“I think I stepped on him again,” she said.
“Nah, she didn’t,” the squire said from over by the kitchen. “Things weren’t moving fast enough, Lucian, so I helped you out.”
Lucian clenched his jaw. Later, he’d reprimand the squire for such a risky and reckless plan.
But for now….
“Really, Galahad’s fine.” Lucian gazed down at her and unable to resist, he stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers. He loved the softness of her skin against his.
Her lips parted on a quick breath. Her cheeks were flushed, either from the excitement of her near fall or the effects of the Hot Toddy. He stroked again, savoring the heat of her skin. Her lashes fluttered.
“Lucian—”
“Mmm?”
“I….”
The leather of the sofa creaked as he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.
Sensation whipped through him: the whiskey taste of her mouth; the citrusy hint of her perfume; the silkiness of her hair against his wrist. One kiss wouldn’t be anywhere near enough.
Her mouth opened beneath his, accepting his sensual invitation and responding in kind. He groaned, the sound rough with hunger. When their tongues brushed, his whole body ached with the need to touch and taste her.
Her hand sank into his hair and her nails lightly grazed his scalp, causing a sensual chill to ripple through him. As she pulled him even closer, the voice of reason intruded, warning him to slow things down. But, she moaned against his lips and kissed him deeper, tempting him to return her kisses with equal passion.
Hunger roared within him.
He wanted her.
He wanted all that she offered and that they could share together, here and now.
Reason gnawed, for while Molly seemed willing, she’d also downed the alcoholic drink he’d made for her. She might claim he’d made her the beverage to wear down her inhibitions and have his way with her.
A bitter taste gathered in his mouth, for he’d never dishonored a woman in such a manner. He’d not start now.
With a low groan, he broke the kiss.
Molly stilled, her mind muzzy and floating with pleasure.
Lucian had stopped kissing her.
No. No!
Disappointment settled within her. He’d straightened away, his features still taut with desire. But, as he stared down at her still lying in his lap, reticence shone in his eyes.
The exquisite anticipation that had
hummed in between them had vanished.
No!
She wanted more. Needed more. She burned for him; yearned to finish what he’d kindled with his phenomenal kiss.
Never had she experienced such desire before. The intensity had shocked her, but even as she’d thought to stop the kiss herself, part of her had resisted.
Then, some kind of internal switch had flicked on. Her hunger had flared hotter, and with a helpless moan, she’d had no choice but to give in to it.
Is that why Lucian had drawn away? Had he realized she’d lost control and decided things were moving too fast?
Maybe they had been, but they were both adults…although she’d never had a one-night stand in her life. Now that she was thinking more clearly, she had to wonder how she’d forsaken common sense so fast.
Then again, she had been drinking; her lightheadedness was likely due to the alcohol. Was it possible Lucian had made the Hot Toddy strong to get her drunk? But, if he’d intended to take advantage of her, he wouldn’t have stopped kissing her. He wouldn’t be eyeing her with a guarded expression now.
Geez, she didn’t know what to think.
Bracing her hand on the coffee table, Molly pushed herself up and off his lap to sit next to him. Tucking her legs up under her, she asked, “You okay?”
“I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
Her stomach knotted at the censure in his voice. Regret wove through her, because while the kiss had been impulsive, it had been wonderful—and she’d thought he’d been enjoying it as well.
“Wait.” Sighing, Lucian pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let me try this again. I don’t regret kissing you. I mean, for first kisses, what we just shared was pretty amazing.”
“Yes,” she murmured.
He gestured to her half-finished drink. “I don’t want you to think, well, that I brought you to my apartment and made you that drink so I could seduce you.”
She averted her gaze, because her thoughts had gone in that direction.
“I wouldn’t do that. You have my solemn vow that I’m a man of honor.”
Man of honor. Solemn vow. Such quaint, outdated phrases.
“I would never disrespect you or any other woman in that way, Molly.”
“Good,” she said, lowering her hand to settle over his. “And thank you. It’s sweet that you’re making sure I know that about you.”
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