Beyond Temptation

CHAPTER TWO





Malec followed the alluring presence to the inn. The structure proved very familiar. He walked around, feeling the call. He stopped under a large deep-set window, then leapt to land on its edge. The inner lock turned at his bidding and he pushed open the pane.



He could smell her, almost taste her. Although he’d fed already, he felt the hunger whisper and stir. He approached the bed, careful to establish a mental hold on her.



A curious sensation streaked through him.



He couldn’t exactly call her beautiful. Or could he? She ... intrigued him. Skin and hair pale caramel, the spiral curls spilling over the pillow and around her shoulders. Eyebrows and lashes sable brown. The former possessing an exotic upward sweep. She had a lovely mouth: wide, full, tempting.



Her dreams came to him, his psychological grip acting as conduit. Images of a man on horseback, hazy but with a strong sexual undercurrent.



She’d never had a man awaken her. Even in her dreams she remained removed. Inhibited.



Unless his senses misled him, she remained virginal.



Malec tossed back the covers. She wore heavy boxy pajamas about two sizes too large. He stripped them off to look at her body. A modest bra and panties in white met his gaze. He assessed the fragile bone structure, full breasts set high on a delicate ribcage, small waist and flaring hips.



Despite his earlier sexual excesses, he went hard and hot looking at her.



He considered having her right then, decided against it.



He didn’t want to take, he wanted her to offer herself.









Avery awoke feeling the muslin sheets against her skin. She opened her eyes. Rain beat steadily against the window. Weak watery light trickled into the room.



She sat straight up and threw back the bedclothes. Sometime in the night she’d taken off her pajamas! Vague snippets of her dreams made her flush. The discussion of the scandalous highwayman had followed her into sleep.



Avery put the clothes she’d worn last night back on, grabbed her bag of toiletries and hurried down the hall for a shower. The plumbing dated to probably the fifties. However, the hot water came generously. She soaped, scrubbed and shaved. When she finished, she slathered up with good vanilla bean body cream and put a little conditioning smoothing milk in her hair.



She’d lived in a little town about thirty minutes from Orlando for her entire life. So when she’d researched the weather to expect during her trip, Avery broke out her Visa and went clothes shopping. This morning she dressed in a cranberry thermal Henley, brown corduroys and insulated brown ankle boots



Back in her room, she put away her clothes in the armoire, tidied a bit and made the bed. Thoughts of tea and breakfast occupied her as she tucked cash and ID into her pants’ front pocket and grabbed her new down jacket. At the last second she remembered her recorder. The little hand-held unit fit perfectly in the inner pocket of the coat



Avery turned as she stepped out into the hall, locked the door with the old-fashioned key.



“Good morning.” That slightly-burred deep voice from last night.



Avery dropped the key and spun toward the sound. He pushed away from where he’d leaned against the wall. All six feet plus most likely five inches of him. Gleaming golden hair, thick, a bit longer in the back than front, contrasted sharply with darkly tanned skin. Bright green eyes, a straight, strong nose, full, chiseled, sensual lips and hard jaw registered with her a second later.



Dressed in an olive, long-sleeved mandarin collar shirt, jeans and cowboy boots, he looked like he belonged on the cover of one of those romance novels the women at her job forever had open. Tall, broad-shouldered, slim-hipped. Muscular in a way that didn’t come from gym manufacturing. He had this aura she found rather piratical. Self-possessed, determined. He bent from the waist, picked up the dropped key, held it out to her.



She accepted a bit warily, having no idea what he might want with her. “Thank you.” She stuck it into her pocket, noticing he had a short scar along his left cheekbone.



“We didn’t exchange introductions last night.” That lilting accent haunted his words.



She felt her face heat, remembering what he’d overheard. “No.”



He smiled, white and charismatic. “Making me work for it.” He offered a big lean hand. “Bromwell Ramsey. Call me Brom.”



She shook his warm calloused hand, released it quickly. “Avery Fitz Gerald.”



“Were you going to have a bite here?”



“Yes.”



“May I invite myself to join you.”



She hugged the jacket. “Why do you want to?”



He assessed her with those green eyes. “You’re kidding.”



Avery felt as if she’d taken a punch to the gut as she realized his purpose. “It was a legitimate question.” She stepped around him, proceeded down the hall.



A husky chuckle came from behind her. The marauding pirate lurking in it made her wince. Men like this shouldn’t be loose to wreak havoc. She charged down the stairs, hurried into the hall where she’d dined the previous night.



Mrs. Mims bustled in wiping her hands on a red- and white-checkered towel. “You look a sight better this morning. Tea?”



“Yes, please.”



“Ready to eat?”



“Absolutely.”



Bromwell - Brom - Ramsey entered the hall like he owned it. As he passed the older woman on her way to the kitchen, he gave her that potent smile, “Good morning, ma’am.”



Avery watched in horrified fascination as the woman glowed under his brief attention. He came over, seated himself in the chair across the small table from her.



“Displeasure with me making you frown?”



It didn’t occur to her to lie. “Yes.”



His gaze dropped to her mouth, lingered there for a long, nerve-sizzling moment. “The leave-me-alone bit might work on most men. Not me.”



His comment threw her. “Do I come across like that?”



His gaze lifted to meet hers. “You do.”



Avery’s emotions became lost somewhere between amazed revelation and embarrassment. “Oh.”



He didn’t give her time to fully contemplate. “You’re researching your family roots here in King’s Park Crossing?”



“God.” She hung her head. “I can’t believe you overheard that stuff.”



“The topic didn’t interest me so much as your reaction.” He leaned back in the chair. It creaked under his weight.



That element that made her liken him to a pirate stirred her writer’s curiosity. And, he seemed almost Southern. “Where are you from?”



“I live outside Edinburough.”



Verbally she speared him. “Parents?”



“Mother from Inverness, Scotland. Father from Houston, Texas.”



Hah! “That’s about the most fascinating combination I can think of,” Avery replied.



He gave her a smile guaranteed to thaw glaciers. “A woman who looks like you being shy is fascinating.”



What about a mousy woman with horrible hair could fascinate a man like him? She squinted at him, suspicious. “Have you recently had a head injury?”



He laughed out loud. Mrs. Mims rolled in a cart with a tea service, a platter heaped with portions of eggs, sausage, strips of fried fish and pan-crisped potatoes. From the lower level of the cart, she produced plates, flatware and heavy white cloth napkins. She laid their place settings, put the platter between and left.



Self-consciousness about eating in front of him, Avery took tiny portions.



“No wonder you’re so small,” he said good-naturedly.



“You make me nervous,” she confessed, wishing he didn‘t pay such close attention.



“Good. Means you like me.”



That brought her eyes up from her plate. “It does?”



He trained that intense scrutiny on her again. The easy-going part of him vanished for a moment. “What have I found?” He seemed to ask himself not her.



Avery longed to crawl under the table and hide, ashamed he’d guessed her terrible secret. Brom reached over, caught her chin gently in his big hand. “I’ve made you frown again.”



She pulled from his grasp, started to rise, “I’ve lost my appetite.”



He was up and skirting the table in a wink. Urging her back into the chair, he sat beside her. “Stay with me.”



He made it difficult to say no. Without him looming across from her, she felt more at ease. She watched him rearrange his setting, then pour them both tea.



“Tell me about your project, Avery.”



She liked how her name sounded when he said it. Especially the ‘R’. “My grandfather relocated to America after World War Two. He’d met my grandmother while he recovered from a wound.”



“She nursed him?”



I felt the deep timbre of his voice in my pelvis. “A doctor.”



“Impressive for that time.”



Avery relaxed a fraction. “Scandalous, really.”



“I like that word better.”



She blushed, peeked over at his big hands. To keep her own busy, she cut a bite of sausage. The rich flavor flooded her mouth and appetite returned.



“What do you research?” he asked.



“I don’t really know anything about his ancestors. Where we came from.”



“How far back you plan to go?”



“Far as possible.”



“So you’ll stay a while?”



“Three weeks.” She sipped her tea.



Mrs. Mims came rushing in with a long envelope in her hand. “A man from Prayer Park just brought this, said to give it to the woman staying in Mary’s Room.”



Avery set down her knife and fork, reached for the envelope. Her fingers slid over the expensive parchment. She opened the flap, withdrew a folded paper in the same material.



Come after seven this evening. My library has original documents dating back to the fifteen hundreds. MdB





A thrill raced through her. “Omigod.”



He must have helped himself to reading her note. Because he said, “How did a stranger find out your business?”



“Mrs. Mims told me last night the unofficial historian would come to see me by mid-morning. Guess word travels fast.”



“You shouldn’t go alone.”



Documents dating back five centuries? The historical value alone boggled the mind. “Why?”



“That’s a man’s handwriting.”



She gave it some consideration. “Yes.”



“I’m sort of a professional problem solver. Sometimes I land in tough spots, so I’ve learned to see things other people don’t.”



“And?”



“I’d bet my right arm he’s self-involved, highly motivated. Maybe to the point of being dangerous.”



Avery refolded the paper, slipped it back into the envelope. “All that from a note?” She seriously doubted it.



His reply nearly knocked her out of her chair. “Profession kidnappers and terrorists don’t often send an email. One has to adapt.”



“What is it you do?” She twisted in her seat to look at him.



He turned his head to stare down at her. “People call me when they a have a problem they can’t fix.”



“Are you a mercenary?” Avery’s imagination bounded ahead, out of control.



“Not in the traditional sense. More of an outcome specialist.”



That explained a lot. Imagination in high gear, she quizzed, “Staying in a little quiet village?”



“Everyone needs down time.” He paused for a few seconds. “I was passing through, but I’ve decided to stay.”



“Why?” Avery flushed. Turned to face ahead again. “Oh.” Against her will, she peeked back over at his hands.



“Back to what started all this.” He picked up his tea. The cup looked almost miniature in his grasp. “I don’t think you should go by yourself.”



“You invite yourself to breakfast. Now you’re inviting yourself into my project?”



“Miss Fitz Gerald,” he replied softly, “You are going to forget what it feels like not to have me taking liberties.”



She knew her mouth fell open, but she couldn’t stop it. After a few false starts, she answered, ”I’m going to Prayer Park alone.”



“I’ll wait for you to get back.”



Avery didn’t know if she should take offense or accept it as a compliment. Either way, it appeared she gotten herself into a mess. She wished she had a snappy comeback. Maybe something scathing. She didn’t.



Instead she pushed back her chair, stood and left him.