Bound by Dreams. Christina Skye

hands and the small scars on his fingers. No rings. No jewelry. Not even a watch. “How do you know what time it is?”

      He followed the angle of her eyes and pointed east. “Right over there.”

      “The sun?” She drummed her fingers on the table. “Are you an anthropologist? Wildlife photographer?”

      He shook his head.

      “You’re not a mountain climber because you don’t have the right build.” Kiera pursed her lips. “They’re smaller as a rule. Broad shoulders, with all their weight focused in their arms and chest. You’re too tall. Your legs are probably even stronger than your arms.” She cleared her throat. “Just a theory, of course.” Suddenly self-conscious, she pushed the plate of scones toward him. “Feel free. I couldn’t eat another bite.”

      “The tea will be enough for me.”

      “You don’t wear a watch. You don’t eat. Now I’m really curious.”

      “Don’t bother. You’d find me very boring. But I see that you’re interested in Draycott Abbey.”

      She tensed. “Why would you think that?”

      Gently, he moved a paper out from beneath her knitting project. Kiera realized he had found her map of the surrounding county, part of a color handout from the local bookstore.

      Unfortunately, she had folded the page so that the abbey lay right in the center. She might as well have burned her intentions on her forehead.

      “Oh. You mean, this? The gardens looked somewhat interesting,” she said casually. “And I’ve always been a sucker for a good ghost story.”

      “Ah, yes.” He studied the sheet filled with tourist information. “Did they mention the thirteen bells? And the eighth viscount, who is said to walk the abbey parapet on moonless nights?”

      “Not that I remember.” Kiera pushed the folded paper away. “After a while all these grand houses begin to sound alike. Ghosts and traitors and spies.” She began to knit, determined to avoid the force of those gray eyes. “Do you know the place?”

      “I more than know it,” he said quietly. Now Kiera was certain he was watching for her reaction.

      Her heart missed a beat. “Don’t tell me that you…own it?”

      “Me? No. I’m only working there.”

      “What kind of work?”

      “Outdoor work. Checking lines. Straightening out problems.”

      “You’re no landscaper.”

      “No, I’m not.” He leaned back, half of his face shadowed by a towering oak. “Would you like to see the grounds?” he asked abruptly.

      She almost dropped her knitting needles. “No thanks. I’ve been on enough house tours.” She wanted to stand up, to run away. How had she been so careless as to leave that folded tour guide out on the table?

      Because she’d only slept two hours the night before. Because she hadn’t expected to share her table for breakfast, Kiera thought crossly. She forced herself to stay right where she was and smile back at him. “No, I’m in the mood for bright lights. I’m headed for London tomorrow. Clubbing,” she lied.

      Something told her he wasn’t the clubbing type.

      When his lips tightened, Kiera saw that she had guessed right.

      “Tomorrow? Then you have today. I’ll be an excellent guide. I’ll show you all the secret places, even where the treasure is hidden.”

      “I’m not interested in treasure—or in secrets,” she said sharply.

      But a voice whispered that this would be the answer to her prayers. One chance for a covert assessment, a check for major security obstacles to avoid later that night. She’d be a fool to refuse him.

      “No,” she said huskily. “Thank you, but it’s really not on my list.”

      “You would be making a mistake, Ms….” He paused, his eyes unreadable.

      “Morissey. Kiera. And why would it be a mistake?”

      “Because the abbey is glorious this time of year. The centifolia roses are just coming into bloom, and the air is full of their perfume. It’s impossible to describe. You need to experience it directly. Besides, aren’t you even a little curious?”

      Kiera had the sharp sense that they were playing cat and mouse now. That he had picked up the details of her secret plan.

      And that was completely impossible. “The roses sound lovely, but I’m going to take it easy today. I’ll sit here in the sun and knit.”

      “Oh, my aunts definitely would have liked you,” he murmured.

      “Calan?”

      Kiera turned at the sound of footsteps. Silk rustled and ruthlessly high heels tapped across the tiled courtyard. A striking woman in a skintight suit that screamed Versace lasered toward the table.

      “Calan, darling! What amazing luck to find you here.”