A Trap So Tender

“Everyone’s captive in one way or another.”

“Are you?” Had he moved closer? His male scent—expensive wool and subtle musk—tickled her senses.

“Absolutely.” His voice was a low growl that took her by surprise, but not as much as the way he stepped in, lifted her chin deftly with his fingers and pressed his lips softly to hers.

This man is a beast. He chews people up and spits them out. He just confessed as much!

His low moan in her ear made her desire surge.

Was there magic in this place? If so, it might be the dark and scary kind. She certainly didn’t feel fully in control of this situation—or even herself—at this moment.

And there was that family curse to contend with …

His kiss was alternately fierce and tender, drawing her in and taking her breath away. She’d never been kissed like this.

But he’s your enemy.

Dear Reader,

In this book, I was able to give free rein to my passion for castles by creating one for my characters. In the British Isles most castles have been destroyed in one conflict or another, and their ruins dominate the landscape around them with an air of romance and drama. A few medieval castles have resisted the attacks of successive marauders and stand as mighty as when they were built, including Edinburgh and Stirling castles in Scotland.

For this book I had fun imagining an even more ancient castle, with parts dating back to when the Romans attempted—unsuccessfully—to occupy Scotland. My imaginary castle is the seat of the ancient Drummond family, and their impressive legacy has become something of a burden to the man who inherits it. It takes a woman from far away to shake him out of his ordered existence and make him see his majestic home with fresh eyes. I hope you enjoy James and Fiona’s story.

Best wishes,

Jennifer Lewis

About the Author

JENNIFER LEWIS has been dreaming up stories for as long as she can remember and is thrilled to be able to share them with readers. She has lived on both sides of the Atlantic and worked in media and the arts before she grew bold enough to put pen to paper. She would love to hear from readers at jen@jenlewis.com. Visit her website at www.jenlewis.com.

A Trap

So Tender

Jennifer Lewis

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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For Mia

One

Her enemy was handsome. Slate-gray eyes, dark hair and aristocratic features—every inch the Scottish laird.

She shook his offered hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Fiona Lam.”

“James Drummond.”

I know. She smiled sweetly. His handshake was firm and his skin cool to the touch. Her own hand suddenly felt hot and she struggled not to pull it back. The glitzy cocktail party hosted by an international bank hummed around them, bright young things in expensive suits meeting and greeting each other, but somehow they all faded into the background. “I’m new to Singapore. Just moved here from San Diego.”

“Really?” One elegant eyebrow raised.

“I sold my first business and I’m looking around for new opportunities. Do you work here?”

“Sometimes.” He still held her hand. Cheeky devil. No wonder he had a reputation as a ladies’ man. “I have a place in Scotland.”

The grand estate she’d heard about. She didn’t care about that. She did want her hand back, though. It was getting hotter, and an unpleasant tingling sensation had started to trickle up her arm. She gave a firm tug and he released her fingers with the ghost of a smile.

She tried not to shake out her hand. “I’ve heard Scotland’s beautiful.”

“If you like mist and heather.” His steely gaze was totally unblinking. No wonder he intimidated his business rivals.

“You don’t?”

“I inherited them. Don’t really need to have an opinion. Can I get you a drink?”

“Champagne.” She sagged with relief as he turned to find a waiter. This guy was pretty intense. Which was fine. She didn’t have to like him.

She just needed him to like her.

He returned with two bubbling glasses and handed her one. No one had warned her he was so good-looking. It was more than a little disconcerting. In her experience venture capitalists were usually men in their sixties with hair growing out of their ears. She sipped, then tried not to sneeze as the bubbles tickled the back of her throat. She wasn’t a big fan of booze, but she wanted to look as if she fit into James Drummond’s rarefied world.

He raised his sculpted chin. “What brings you to Singapore?”

“I’m looking into a couple of business opportunities.”

Again, his brow lifted. “I’m in business myself. What do you do?”

“I just sold a company that makes decals. Smileworks.” The name usually made people smile. It made her smile and she was still sad to have sold it. But not sad about all the money she’d made on the deal.

“I read about the buyout. Congratulations. That was quite a coup.”

The sparkle of interest in his eyes had intensified. She felt a tiny rush of power—or was it pleasure? “Thanks. It was fun building Smileworks but I’d taken it as far as I could.”

“So what’s next for you?” He leaned forward, clearly intrigued.

She shrugged, annoyed to notice that her nipples had tightened beneath her black cocktail dress and hoping he wouldn’t notice. “Not sure yet. I’ll have to see what sparks my imagination.”

In his dark gray suit and dark gray tie, James Drummond was sparking her imagination in all kinds of undesirable directions. He was so buttoned down that the prospect of tearing off his crisp white shirt or running fevered fingers through his carefully combed hair seemed an intriguing challenge.

Was it wise to bed an enemy? Probably not, but a little flirtation couldn’t hurt. She needed to gain his trust, then figure out how to buy—or steal—her father’s factory back.

She managed another sip of the unfamiliar champagne. She had to stay focused. Her dad needed her and at last she could prove to him she cared. It wasn’t her fault she’d grown up nine thousand miles away, calling another man Daddy. She hadn’t planned the first two decades of her life but she was in charge of the rest and she intended to right some of the wrongs that had been committed against Walter Chen. Starting with the wrongs committed by one James Drummond.

They left the cocktail party together, and James’s driver took them to Rain, the hottest new restaurant, where even he had to pull strings to get a reservation.

“This place is stunning. I had no idea Singapore had so much nightlife.” She stared around at the minimalist decor with its cool green lighting. “Clearly, I need to get out more.”

“Got to keep the worker bees happy or we’d all fly off somewhere else.”

He sat opposite her, pleased by the surprise of having dinner with a beautiful woman who’d been in his life for only one hour. Fiona had his attention. Her company, Smileworks, had created an international splash with its funky graphics and new concepts for things to stick decals to—like walls. That she’d already sold it and banked more money than most people made in a lifetime was impressive.

And she was beautiful as well as smart, with dramatic dark eyes framed by slightly arched brows, and a full mouth that begged to be kissed. Her American accent had surprised him, and added to the layers of intrigue. She was exactly the kind of woman he could see himself marrying.

And he needed to marry.

The waiter gave them shiny black menus. He watched her eyelashes flick lower as she scanned hers. Then she looked up and transfixed him with those bright eyes. “What do you recommend?”

“I’ve heard it’s all good, but I can lend my personal recommendation to the sea urchin.”

Her eyes widened. “I had no idea those were edible.”

The waiter showed him a bottle of his favorite wine and he nodded. When the waiter had filled their glasses and left, he leaned in. “Last time I had the pigeon. That was good, too. All depends on whether you want to eat creatures of land, sea or air.”

She laughed. “How about a pond?”

“The duck is very tender.” He smiled and lifted his glass to her. “And I expect they could even make pond weed taste good if they wanted.”

“A little salt and pepper, sauté it with garlic?” Humor sparkled in her lovely eyes. Then she raised her glass and took a sip. “That’s some good wine.”

A smile tugged at his mouth. “At four hundred dollars a bottle it should be. I like it.”

“You spend more time in Singapore than Scotland?” She unfurled her napkin as she asked.

“I do. Scotland’s not exactly an international business hub.” Funny how she hadn’t even asked him what he did yet. That was refreshing. Being new to Singapore, she obviously had no idea of his reputation, which was also a plus. It got tiresome explaining to people that you weren’t a vulture, or—lately—that vultures played an important role in the circle of life. “You can work from anywhere these days. I do most of my work over the internet.”

“I do, too, but nothing beats meeting people face-to-face.” Fiona’s face was lovely. Smooth skin with a radiant glow that contrasted with thick dark hair that swept to her shoulders. He wanted to run his fingers through that hair.

And if all went according to his current plan, he would.

“It’s funny that you have a Scottish first name, when there’s nothing Scottish about you.”

She lifted her slim brow with a slightly defiant air. “I do like plaid. I even bought a pair of plaid shoes the other day. What’s Scottish about you?”

“Good question. I’m not sure anyone’s ever asked it before. I’m probably the only person I’ve ever met who actually enjoys single malt whiskey.”

She wrinkled her nose. “You’re certainly the only one I’ve met. I tried it once and I won’t be doing that again.”

“I treat it with a healthy respect, myself, as it’s killed a lot of my forebears.”

“They were drinkers?”

“Drinkers, fighters, fast drivers, the type of men who go out looking for the end of a sword to run into.”

Curiosity sparkled in her eyes, and stirred the arousal gathering low inside him. “And you’re not like that?”

“I prefer to be holding the sword.”

He expected a laugh, or at least a smile, but she simply seemed to consider his words for a moment. “I suppose that is a better position to be in. Are you afraid of ending up like your ancestors?”

“Can’t say I am. Though I keep getting emails and letters from my American cousin who’s decided it’s her mission to save the Drummond family from an ancient curse by reuniting three parts of a lost chalice.”

Her eyes widened. “A curse? Do you think there’s anything to it?”

“I don’t believe in that kind of nonsense. Hard work and common sense are the cure for most so-called curses I’ve heard about.”

“You did say your ancestors kept wading into trouble.” She raised a slim brow. “Maybe there’s something to the legend. Where is the chalice supposed to be?”

“According to my cousin’s last rather breathless email, she’s already found two pieces. One was in the family home where she resides in New York—she’s a Drummond herself by marriage—and the other was found in the ocean off an island in Florida, where it sank in a pirate ship three hundred years ago. She thinks the third piece was brought back to Scotland by one of my ancestors.”

“How intriguing.” She leaned forward, giving him a tantalizing whiff of her soft floral scent. “Are you going to look for it?”

Her obvious excitement stirred a trickle of interest in the idea. He’d almost forgotten about Katherine Drummond and her pleas for him to join in the hunt. He’d been so busy lately he couldn’t remember if he’d even responded. “I don’t know. Do you think I should?”

“Absolutely.” Her eyes shone. “It’s so romantic.”

Romantic was good. He was already entertaining romantic thoughts about Fiona, whose black cocktail dress wrapped her slim, athletic figure like a glass around a shot of single malt. “She’s convinced the third part of the cup is hidden somewhere on my Scottish estate. She’s even offered a reward for the person who finds it. I’ve had to hire security to keep treasure hunters from digging up the lawns and climbing the battlements.”

She laughed. “And you’ve never looked for it at all?”

“Nope. I know easier ways to earn a few thousand dollars.”

“But it sounds like an adventure.” Fiona glowed, and he found his own body temperature rising in response. He resisted the urge to loosen his collar, which suddenly felt tight. “I think you should search for it. Who knows what fabulous things might happen if you find the missing piece and put the chalice back together?”

“My life is pretty good right now.”

“I bet there’s at least one aspect of it that could be improved.”

I do need a wife. He certainly wasn’t going to tell her that. Singapore’s conservative culture frowned on a man who was thirty-six years old and still playing the field. It was beginning to affect business. He’d been turned down by a potential partner in a very compelling project who let him know he didn’t approve of his lifestyle.

Lifestyle? Just because he liked to mind his own business and control his own destiny didn’t make him a womanizer. On the other hand, even serial monogamy began to look a bit flaky after nearly twenty years of dating, simply because of the sheer number of women involved.

There was no shortage of women ready, willing and able to marry him. They usually threw themselves at him once they got wind of the Scottish estate or the millions in investments. What he needed was a cool-headed and congenial business partner. Someone he could trust in the kind of legally binding contractual situation that modern marriage really was.

Someone—perhaps—like Fiona Lam.

She licked a droplet of champagne from her upper lip, sending a surge of heat crashing through him. Breathing deep, he shrugged out of his jacket. Fiona was a very attractive woman, and her high intelligence was even more of a turn-on than her lush lips or shapely legs.

“Or maybe I’m wrong?” She leaned back in her chair, eyes appraising him coolly. “Is there anything you want that you don’t already have?”

He laughed. “Always. That’s what gets me out of bed in the morning.”

“The thrill of the chase?”

“Makes my venture capitalist heart pump hard.”

“Maybe you’re not so different from your Scottish ancestors. You’re just excited by different quarry.”

“You could be onto something. They wanted a stag, or the neighbor’s estate, I want a nice international conglomerate with growth potential.”

She smiled. “You’re funny.”

“I’m not so sure about that, but I am pretty predictable.”

She tilted her head, sending a fall of shiny black hair to one shoulder. “Why haven’t you ever married?”

He stilled. “How do you know I haven’t?” Did she know more about him than she was letting on?

“No ring. And no tan line where the old ring used to be.”

He relaxed slightly. Being somewhat notorious, he tended to be on guard when meeting new people. Besides, anyone reading a business magazine could know the basic facts of his life. It was hardly top-secret information. “Never met the right woman.”

“Too picky?”

“Something like that. A marriage isn’t like an investment, where it’s worth taking a chance on because you can always get out.”

“You can always get out, for the right price.” A smile tilted her soft mouth.

He grimaced. “Usually the highest price the market will bear. Not attractive to a careful investor.”

“You’re too cautious to get married, aren’t you?”

He nodded. “Or maybe it’s just the family curse.”

She laughed aloud, a pretty ringing sound, like the bells they used to play in the church back on the estate when he was a kid.

Where did that thought come from?

“I think you need to find the last part of that chalice and put it back together. Think of it as a hunt.” She leaned forward, rested her elbows on the table and her neat chin on her interlocked fingers. “It’ll be a great story to tell.”

A crazy idea flashed into his brain. “Come look for it.”

“What?” Her eyes widened.

“Come to Scotland. I have to take a trip back myself right now to deal with some estate matters. You said you’d like to visit. Take a break from the rat race and breathe some highland air.”

She was silent, and he could almost hear the cogs turning in her brain. Her eyes sparkled and he could see the idea intrigued her. “But I don’t even know you.”

“I’m pretty well-known around town. Ask people about me.”

“What will they tell me?” She looked deadly serious.

“That I play by my own rules, but always stand by my word.” He hesitated, knowing what else she would hear. “That I’m happiest when sinking my teeth into a new business.” He deliberately avoided the part about his alleged Casanova ways.

Her eyes had narrowed slightly, and she appeared to be considering his proposal. His pulse ratcheted and he realized how much he wanted her to accept. Even the usually unwelcome prospect of returning to the grim and vast baronial castle and the manager’s endless to-do list seemed less daunting with the prospect of the lovely Fiona in residence.

“Okay.” She spoke quietly, but without hesitation.

“You’ll come?” He couldn’t believe it.

“I will.” She sat back in her chair, expression still serious. “I’ve always wanted to go to Scotland, I love the idea of looking for an ancient relic, and I have nothing better to do right now. Why not?”

“Why not, indeed?” They discussed dates for a minute or two and he sent a text to his pilot while the waiter served their food. For the first time in as long as he could remember, his nerves crackled with excitement over something other than an intriguing business deal. “Done. We leave tomorrow.”

“Great.” Fiona’s voice faltered slightly. This was moving so much faster than she expected. “Who knew I’d be eating sea urchin and going to Scotland all in the space of one week?”

What would her dad think about her leaving so soon after she’d arrived? The main purpose of her stay here was to build their relationship. After ten days they’d barely managed to relax enough to hold a conversation, and now she was taking off around the world with his sworn enemy?

She’d have to explain her plan. He’d understand and know she was only doing it for him. He’d be so happy when she figured out how to wrest his factory back from James Drummond’s octopuslike embrace. This man needed to be stopped, and she wasn’t afraid to do it.

“Will you stay there with me?” This thought occurred to her for the first time almost as she said it. He’d asked her to come to his house and look for the cup. While snooping around his ancestral home might be fun, she couldn’t achieve her main goal unless he was there.

“Of course. I wouldn’t invite a guest and then take off.” He frowned. “Then again, I probably have done that, but I promise I won’t this time. I need to put in some face time there. The natives get restless if the lord of the manor goes AWOL for too long.”

“Is it really like that?”

He nodded. “I don’t understand why they care what I do, but they seem to feel I should be there judging flower displays at the village fete and hosting banquets on obscure saints’ days.”

“Very medieval.” There was something sexy about that. Which just proved how loopy she could be. He obviously hated it and ran off to Singapore all the time to avoid his feudal responsibilities. “Do you get to have people executed if they cross you?”

“I’ve never tried.” A tiny smile tugged at his broad, seductive mouth. “I don’t think anyone’s ever ticked me off that badly.”

I might. She let her own secret smile slip across her lips. “Are they putting pressure on you to find a lady of the manor?”

He laughed. “They wouldn’t dare.” Then his eyes darkened. “Though I’m sure they would if they didn’t think it would make me run for the hills.”

They certainly wouldn’t be too enthused about her, a snarky American with her roots in Singapore. No doubt they’d prefer a delicate Scottish rose with red-gold hair and pink cheeks, who thought arranging flowers on the church altar was the ideal way to spend a weekend.

Not that James was bringing her there to romance her. In fact, she had no idea why he did want her to come. She frowned and looked at him. His eyes smiled slightly when she met them, sending a frisson of … what? Excitement, terror and hot lust coursing right through her.

Did he really want her to find the cup? Surely someone closer to home would be a better choice. Did he want to bed her?

Yes. The subtle gleam in his eye made no secret of that. Maybe he was a lothario. And maybe he’d be disappointed in his efforts to add her to his list of conquests.

She took a bite of her sea urchin, sitting almost forgotten on her plate, and was surprised to find it tender and delicious. James was very distracting. She’d better make sure she kept her mind on her task—getting her father’s factory back. “This is good.”

“I told you it would be. Now you know you can trust me.”

She laughed, partly because he said it so innocently, as if he really believed it. If she didn’t know of his reputation as a heartless corporate shark, she’d have taken him for a genuinely nice guy. He certainly seemed generous and enthusiastic. Luckily for her, his reputation preceded him. “I don’t trust that easily. I do apparently have a taste for adventure, though. I’m excited about coming to Scotland.”

“You’ll win the reward if you find the cup.”

“If I do, I’ll donate it to charity. I’m not exactly hurting for money after the sale of Smileworks.”

“What are you going to do next?”

That’s for me to know and you to find out after I’ve done it. She shrugged. “Whatever takes my fancy. I’m in no rush.” Maybe she could convince him to sell her the factory for a pittance. She wasn’t sure why he’d bought it in the first place. “What’s your latest project?”

“I’m becoming interested in real estate. Sooner or later this recession will end and people will want everything bigger and better and newer than ever.”

“And you plan to be poised to take advantage of that.”

He sipped his wine. That mouth was wasted on a businessman. He should have been a pouting rock star. “I try to be ready for anything.”

Her father’s factory was centrally located in an old business district that was ripe for redevelopment into a yuppie paradise. The building was from the 1950s and looked like a giant shoebox. Until six weeks ago it had employed eighteen people and provided her father with his only source of income. But James had engaged in some skullduggery with the local government and managed to buy it out from under her dad for a pittance in unpaid taxes. At least that was how she understood it. All the workers had been laid off, and her dad was now facing bankruptcy, so the clock was ticking.