“But my weapon is in the ballistics database. Once they pull the slug from him, they’ll—
“We’ve access to the database. We’ll go in and swap out your information so no one’sthe wiser. Don’t you see? If we do everything just like I say, no one will ever know we were at that airport.” Ben opened his mouth, which compelled Lawrence to play his trump card. “And before you try to throw another spanner in the works, remember our parents. Remember what happened to ’em.”
“Jesus,” Ben breathed, shaking his head.
“I already told you to leave him outta this.” Lawrenceflipped on his blinker. “And we’re going left here.”
“Why?” Ben looked around confusedly.
“Because they did their best to avoid the CCTV cameras before, and I’d bet my left bollock they’ll do their best to avoid ’em now.”
Ben eyed the GPS display on the console of Lawrence’s SUV. “But there’s nothing this way,” he insisted as the hedgerows grew on either side of them. “It’s a draftyold manor house that’s been kept up by the National Trust.”
“Then a drafty old manor house is our destination.” Lawrence stomped on the gas as a sense of fate grew inside him. This day, thismomentwas what he’d been waiting years for. It was his destiny, when he put right all the wrongs done to his family.
* * *
Trenor Manor…
Emily mimicked the men by taking cover behind the mossytrunk of a tree near the edge of the clearing that surrounded the old estate house.
Her heart hammered. Not because she was scared they might be seen or because the mile trek through the woods had been all that arduous, but because she was still reeling from the fact that Christian thought she was beautiful.
Not cute. Not kinda, sorta pretty. Butbeautiful.
To recap: he’d popped aboner every time she climbed into his lap. He’d kissed her without warning—holy duck balls had he ever!And he’d admitted to thinking she was beautiful.
And guess what that means, boys and girls?she thought a little desperately.That means I’m in serious trouble.
It was one thing to withstand his savage good looks, his smooth British charm, and his panty-melting accent when she thoughthe didn’t like her.Haters gonna hate, and all that jazz.It was another thing entirely to withstand it when she was getting the impression that the exact opposite might be true.
How would she ever be able to look at him, talk to him,workwith him knowing that he wanted to, in the parlance of their time, introduce his boy part to her girl part?
Then again, she could be making a mountainout of a molehill. Therehadbeen that look on his face after he kissed her. And then there was the itty-bitty, not-so-insignificant fact that he hadn’t brought it up since.
Not a word.
Not a gesture.
Not even a silent eye-convo.
So perhaps, like he’d said, his erection didn’t have a thing to do with her. And perhaps that kiss had been nothing but a knee-jerk reaction in the heatof the moment—something he immediately regretted. And perhaps him saying she was beautiful was simply a matter of semantics, like… Did he think spotted puppies and babies were beautiful?
Glancing two trees over, she tried to catch Christian’s eye. She wanted to ask him,So, you want to do me or what?Unfortunately, he couldn’t feel her eyes tapping him on the back. Or else he was ignoringthem. Which left her with no recourse but to sigh and turn her attention toward what seemed to hold his. Namely, the manor house.
Large by American standards, but likely somewhat small in a British nobleman’s estimation, it was two stories of weathered gray stone. Its deeply pitched, gray slate roof sported six chimneys, and its leaded-glass windows were a web of diamond-shaped patterns thatcaught the weak sunlight straining through the brooding cloud cover overhead. The front lawn was well kept with bushes shaped into fanciful creatures. And two timeworn rock lions guarded the gravel footpath leading up to the gabled front door.
Like most historic homes in England, the manor house looked like something straight out of a fairy tale. Again, Emily was hit with the image of herselftwirling around in a frilly yellow dress. Of course, the image was ruined when she let her mind’s eye travel down the length of her imaginary gown to her weathered hiking boots. She hadn’t been kidding when she said she didn’t own a pair of heels.
“Brilliant. Looks like we’re good to go,” Christian whispered. “Let’s fan out. Check the security system. Emily, you and Angel go ’round to theright. Ace and Rusty, you two head left. I’ll see to the front, and then we’ll all meet in the back garden, yeah?”
It didn’t escape Emily’s notice that Christian had paired her with Angel. If he was lusting after her hot bod—she couldn’t resist a mental snort—he would want to keep her with him, right? Right. So shehadbeen making a mountain out of molehill.
When Christian finally turnedto look at her, she gave him a smile, trying to make it look friendly, all calm and serene. You know, the total opposite of what she was feeling. Her expression must not have been very convincing, however, because Christian frowned at her. His pretty green eyes asked,What the bloody hell did I do this time?
Instead of answering, she dropped his gaze and walked over to Angel. “All right, partner,”she whispered. “In the timeless words of Larry the Cable Guy, let’sgit-r-done.”
Angel cast her a hooded glance. “Am I supposed to know who that is?”
