by Vivian Arend
Damon mentally reviewed what they’d been talking about and how long the cat might have been eavesdropping. He didn’t think they’d let anything slip, but a change of topic was probably wise. “It’s an impressive building. Your home.”
Alastair all but fell over himself getting closer to Damon, adjusting his suit jacket as if he were going on camera. “It’s been in the family since the fifteenth century when the Sterling-Wylde clan became lords of the entire area.”
“There’s an interesting historical significanc—” Addie began, only to be cut off by Alastair.
“Interesting? Ha, only if you find death and destruction entertaining. It’s one thing to rule, but there’ve been dark times in our past, and now it’s all coming back to haunt us.”
The longer he spoke, the more melodramatic he grew and the less worried Damon got. “Haunted. You mean like really haunted?”
“Death curses and the like, yes.” Alastair gestured to the wall beside them and the enormous portraits hanging on the twenty-foot-high space. The people in them seemed more ferocious than the ones Damon had seen earlier. “The Wylde side of the family. Our great-grandsire pillaged the manor then claimed the previous Lord Sterling’s daughter as his bride. That’s where the trouble came in, and that’s why everything is falling apart. Once I take ownership and the castle is mine, I’m going to do the only thing possible to remove the curse.”
If spooky music had started playing at that moment, Damon couldn’t have been more delighted. “Does it involve sage fires and secret rituals?”
Alastair offered him a dirty look. “This is so far beyond just the building. It’s our family that’s been cursed, and I don’t need this anchor around my neck as I attempt to turn our fortunes around. No, the only way to stop our family name from descending into the depths of ignominy is to get rid of everything. Sell the trinkets, tear down the castle—”
“Oh, please, you’re not at this again are you, Alastair?” They’d entered the formal dining room where a central table at least thirty feet long was surrounded by massive chairs. Off to one end, places had been set for four. Niall was already seated at the head, adjusting his dress robes as he stared at his brother in disapproval. “It’s not good for my digestion to have to constantly listen to you rant about fairytales.”
Alastair marched forward, shaking his finger Niall’s face. “It’s not good for my blood pressure for you ignore the facts. As long as Sterling-Wylde stands, we’ll never be free.”
Damon wished he had popcorn. He placed a hand on Addie’s lower back as he guided her toward the two chairs on the same side of the table, positioning her away from the brothers. “It sounds as if you’ve got a different idea about how things work, Niall.”
The man sniffed. “I have the right idea. There is no curse. It’s simply bad business management. Once I have official ownership of the estate, I’ll turn things around soon enough.”
Alastair dropped into the chair across from them and proceeded to scoop spoon after spoon of sugar into his coffee cup while he refused to meet his brother’s eye. “You could try, if the curse doesn’t kill you first. Besides, there’s nothing that says you’re going to get ownership.”
“We agreed not to discuss this topic since it’s out of our hands for the time being. But because…” Niall glanced at Damon disapprovingly, sniffing again, “…Addie’s boyfriend asked, let me share my plans for the future.”
Addie played with her utensils, a small sigh escaping her. Damon glanced over in concern, but she smiled before rolling her eyes as Niall began.
“This manor is a grand and glorious example of our history, and its bounty needs to be shared with current generations. Once I’ve done some restorations, it’ll be a veritable playground again. Just like in the old days when royalty came to hunt, and fish, and when wild revelry filled the ballrooms.”
“A hotel?” Damon asked.
“Hardly. That implies commoners would be allowed, whereas it will be for only the most genteel and refined of clientele. We’ll cater to the rich and famous from around the world, and once again the Sterling-Wylde name will be exalted in our rightful company.” Niall tucked a linen napkin into the heavy brocade necktie around his neck. “Although I don’t expect you to understand. This is obviously far above you.”
Good grief. The boys, as Addie called them, were annoying assholes and condescending pricks at the same time. He knew why she’d sighed if this was the claptrap she’d had to listen to for the past week.
Of course, what to do about it? Damon grinned. Condescending assholes were the best kind to poke fun at without them realizing it. “I’m sure I don’t, but both your plans sound exciting, and I promise to do anything I can to help. I mean, I came here to see Addie, but this is bigger than just us. This is something I feel I should be involved in, and it could change my life forever.”
So he was laying it on a little thick, but he was having too much fun to stop.
Both brothers stared at him, Alastair with a faintly mistrusting look and Niall with sheer calculated mischief.
“I like your attitude,” Niall announced.
“I do too,” Alastair agreed quickly. “If you want to be involved, we could use your help.”
Niall tossed his brother a dirty look. “I was going to suggest that.”
“But I said it first.”
“He’ll work in the gardens,” Niall announced.
“What a waste of resources. This is the problem with you, brother, you think too small.” Alastair gestured toward Damon. “He’s like half of a brute squad all by himself. Addie asked the other day for help moving things. I say we hire Damon to do all the heavy lifting.”
“Oh, you would hire me? Like, pay me money and everything?” Damon prattled. “Is that legal, though, because I—”
“Of course. Cash every week, along with room and board,” Niall offered. “No one else needs to know about it.”
“Wow. I never thought about that. That’s brilliant,” Damon gushed before Addie gave his thigh a sharp pinch. Her eyes were brighter than usual, and she was shaking as she clung to the arms of her chair, leaning back to allow the servant girl to place breakfast in front of her. “What do you say, sweetheart? Don’t you think it’s a great idea for me to be your helper?”
He gave her his best puppy dog eyes, and she shook harder, swallowing before she spoke. “If Alastair and Niall hire you, I’m sure I can find things for you to do.”
“Fabulous. Then it’s all decided,” Niall proclaimed before digging into his plate of food.
Damon was too hungry to ignore the bounty in front of him, but it was satisfaction for other reasons that kept a smile on his face as he attacked the sausage and eggs. Having an official job gave him an excuse to stick close to Addie at all times. Plus, it might earn him some brownie points, him no longer being an unemployed bum, and all. He’d caught her look of disapproval when she’d thought he’d had no job.
Yup, the trip might have begun as a rescue mission, but now? It was going to be a hell of a lot of fun. Damon was good with that. He liked fun.
He just had to convince Addie to have some with him.
Chapter Three
She’d admit to being fairly entertained while Damon bantered with the boys at breakfast. He obviously didn’t take anything too seriously, not even himself, but he also packed enough shifter power that one direct look and her hosts had backed off post-meal, leaving them alone to head to the gentlemen’s parlor to start her workday.
That was a couple of hours ago, and for the first time since the boys had returned to Sterling-Wylde, she was thoroughly enjoying herself.
Not having to worry about the Highland Tigers meant she’d thrown herself into her assignment, completely focused on the task at hand, which was cataloging the filled-to-the-brim den-slash-smoking room.
The job was soothing as she methodically worked her way around the room and added items to the master inventory. She was good at what she did, which was why she
was hired for so many high-profile jobs. She went way beyond just creating a list. She categorized items into dynasties, reigning families and historic sections of the household.
She didn’t move anything without returning the object to where she’d found it. In one matter, Niall was correct. Sterling-Wylde had been poorly run in the past few years. There were items from the dining room scattered everywhere, and even articles that belonged in the stables tossed up on the walls, probably because the Lord Sterling-Wylde had enjoyed looking at them.
As far as she was concerned, things were meant to be used, but if the manor really was going to be enjoyed by the masses, it needed a lot of work first.
Something fell to the floor, and a metallic ping was followed by a soft curse.
Okay, so she hadn’t been one hundred percent focused on her task the entire time. There’d been a large, sexy, wonderful-smelling…distraction in the room.
“Please don’t touch the horseshoe,” she repeated for the umpteenth time. The touching bit, not the horseshoe. That part was new.
“What can I touch?” Damon asked in a bit of a huff. “I’m supposed to help you, but so far the only thing I’ve moved is a chair.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of chances to flex your muscles. This just isn’t a place where I need physical help.” She walked over and firmly pulled the metal U from his hands. Addie crossed the room to the cigar humidor and propped the decorative horseshoe back in its original position displayed on top. “You are helping, really, just by being here. Normally by now one or the other of the boys would have stopped in and stuck around long enough to make me uneasy.”
Damon eyed her, his face twisted strangely.
“They never did anything, it’s just awkward to have them—”
“It’s not that. I get it, they’re creepy, but they never crossed the line.” He swung his thumb toward her. “How did you know where I got the horseshoe?”
“I have a good memory,” she said dryly, pacing back to where she’d left her iPad. Her comment got her a nod, but she recognized his new expression. He had no idea what she was saying.
“Is there anything else I can do to help you?” Damon all but begged. “You want a drink? Are you hungry? How about I sing to you?”
Lordy, she hoped she wouldn’t have to entertain him the entire time. “Are you always this annoying?”
“This isn’t annoying,” he insisted. “This is charming. Flirtatious, even.”
He gave her a come-hither look, and she choked on her own spit. “Don’t do that again,” she ordered.
Damon flopped into the nearest chair (Item 1511: sixteenth century, mahogany legs, twill cushion; reign of James VI.) “Don’t you ever take coffee breaks?”
“Not often,” she admitted. “Since I work by myself, I pretty much put in my time for the day and then stop.”
“God, snap that whip a little harder,” he muttered. “Why does everyone I know have to be a workaholic?”
“You obviously hang around good people.”
“ADHD people. But here’s a solution. We’ll take a coffee break right here.” Damon glanced around the room, his face lighting up as he spotted something. “I challenge you to a game of chess.”
“You’re a glutton for punishment.” Addie turned back to work, opening a new document on her iPad for the antique pipes stored in a display case on the wall.
“Oh, come on,” he taunted. “I promise to go easy on you. I’ll spot you a couple pieces.”
He had no idea what trouble he was getting into. “I don’t think—”
“It’ll be fun. I promise. Trust me, Addie, I know how to make things fun.” He drifted closer, his bright eyes fixed on her as she eased away.
Her wolf wanted to come out to meet him. Heck, her human side wanted to lick him up one side and down the other. Being watched by the Sterling-Wylde boys had never produced this effect in her.
Straight up, Damon turned her on.
But Addie gave herself a stern lecture. This was not the time, and most certainly not the place, and even though mutual attraction shone clearly in his eyes, fooling around would be too complicated. She didn’t need complicated.
Only while she’d been coming to a firm decision and bracing herself to turn him down, Damon had closed the gap between them. Small steps, stalking her. Herding her away from the delicate display case without her being aware of it until her back bumped into a solid wood-paneled wall.
His eyes flickered between human and shifter, his nostrils flaring as he edged in closer. “There’s something about you… Are you sure we haven’t met before? At some party, maybe?”
She worked to keep her breathing steady. Her pulse she could do nothing about, its frantic, out-of-control beat giving her away even as she forced herself to project a façade of serenity.
His breathing accelerated. Whatever was happening, he felt it too.
“I doubt we travel in the same social circles,” she said as calmly as possible.
“We should. We totally should. Like later, let me take you out on the town. You can show me what there is to do on a hot summer night in the Scottish Highlands.” He planted both hands on the wall, one on either side of her head before taking a long, slow breath, his eyes closing as he scented her.
Not good. It was not good the way her legs shook, and her palms were sweaty, and her strongest desire wasn’t to get her job done but to take him back to her room, strip them down and produce some heat of their own.
“Queen’s rook to E4,” she whispered.
He blinked, and the silver-grey in his eyes changed back to vivid blue. “What?”
“Queen’s rook to E4.”
Damon paused. “Really?”
She nodded. “You move the pieces, though. I need to keep working.”
He shook himself and stepped away, his body’s reaction to the desire between them clear in the tent rising behind his blue kilt. He offered her a final cocky smile then gave her breathing room. She frantically sucked in air to stop her head from spinning, knees locked to keep from falling over.
“Give me a second to get the board ready,” Damon offered, moving the antique marble chess men into position, sitting behind the desk with the black pieces toward him. He glanced up. “You’re going to work while we play?”
She wasn’t going any closer. Not right now, because not even the desk between them was enough of a barrier. “Why? Do you not understand what move I called?”
His eyes narrowed at her challenge. “Let’s wager on the game.”
“Deal. If I win, you don’t ask me to play again.”
“That’s not a wager. Best two out of three, and the winner gets a massage.”
“Best two out of three, and the winner gets the bed,” she offered.
He looked stunned. “You’re the weirdest girlfriend I’ve ever had.”
Addie laughed. “Make your move, buddy.”
She went back to the case and jotted down the next bit of information.
Item 1512: Inlaid turquoise, with a cherry bowl; one of a set (reference page 37).
Item 1513: bowl made of tusk, oxen; maple shaft.
She glanced at the chessboard. “Queen to F3.”
“My rook takes yours.” Damon switched the pieces. “Are you really going to keep working?”
“Bishop to C4. Don’t worry, we’ll be done soon enough.”
He grunted suspiciously then made her move, pondering the board for longer this time before he jumped a knight. She called her response as she wrote down Item 1515: bowl ash; chestnut shaft. The rest of the game didn’t take long. She’d glance at the board, offer a move, then work until Damon called her name.
Announcing, “Castle to D8. Checkmate,” was fairly anticlimactic.
Damon leaned back in his chair as a grunt of surprise escaped him. “Damn it, I forgot about your bishop sitting there. Well played. Ready for round two?”
The second time it took her ten moves to lock him in position. By then she
was also done with the pipes, opening a new page in her inventory and stepping toward the window—
—and bouncing off a rock-solid body she swore hadn’t been there a moment earlier. He caught her before she tumbled to the ground, his hands warm on her sleeves, and she hesitated briefly before easing from his grasp.
“Explain how you did that,” Damon demanded.
“I told you,” she said. “I have a good memory. As in a really, really good memory. As soon as you made a move, I thought back to the chess games I’d read about, found one that matched, then proceeded to copy the winning moves. Congrats, by the way. We reenacted a game from nineteen fifty-eight.”
Damon’s grin returned. “Well, colour me embarrassed. And good for you. I see why this job is perfect. The inventory business, I mean.”
“I like it. Keeps me out of mischief, and the pay is good.”
“Except sometimes you have to work around people you don’t trust.”
He was right, but she did have ways to protect herself. She just didn’t like to use them unless she had to.
And now that the game was over, he was back in her airspace. “I can open these drawers all by myself,” she said firmly.
“But I like helping you,” he rumbled, wrapping his fingers around her forearm and caressing.
She fought the rush of desire, locking down her system so her wolf didn’t do something stupid like offer her neck. “You know what? A coffee sounds good—could you get me one? Cream and sugar. Thanks. And maybe something to eat.”
She whirled and headed in the opposite direction, talking out loud as she pretended to count pictures on the walls, taking copious notes.
She knew he knew she’d invented an excuse to get rid of him, but he didn’t say anything, slipping from the room after offering one final confused glance.
Addie collapsed into a chair and let out a long, slow breath. She didn’t know who was more agitated, her or her wolf. She hadn’t wanted complicated. Tough luck.
It seemed complicated had arrived, and his name was Damon.
Damon precariously balanced two coffees and a scone as he stared in confusion at the identical stone-lined hallways in front of him leading off in different directions.
