A long darkened corridor spread out before her, smelling of damp stone and dust.She could make out large pieces of furniture shoved along the corridor walls and covered in cloth.With a deep, courage fortifying inhale, she stepped over the last step.
And tripped.
"Ow—" Lucy bit back the outburst and recovered her balance before she went sprawling.Once she righted herself, she flipped her hair back over her shoulder.
The thuds came again.
Crap.
Major doubt started to sink in.Come to think of it, maybe she should go back.What was she thinking anyway, playing Scooby-Doo?This was a job for Riley, not her.As she took a step backward, a hand clamped hard over her mouth from behind, and jerked her into the shadows.
Lucy screamed against the hand and struggled, fear racing like lightening down her limbs.But she was no match for the vise-like arm that encircled her waist.Her feet dangled off the ground as she was held up, against a solid chest.
"Stop struggling, will you?"a familiar voice growled against her ear.
He didn't remove his hand, and Lucy's heart pounded so fast, she couldn't seem to take in enough air.Her breath was heavy and labored, almost frantic.
A curse of realization came from behind her.The hand was removed quickly, but the arms that held her remained."Mrs.Brooks.What are you sneak--doing up here?"he whispered.
Oh, thank God, it was just Ian.
Oh.
It was Ian.
Her panic turned to a strange combination of irritation and excitement.His warm breath against her cold skin sent all sorts of interesting, tingling sensations over her skin.
But then his words sunk in and she stiffened."What am I doing?"She gripped the candlestick tighter.
"Quiet, lass," he commanded softly."You heard the noises, too?"
"Great deduction there, Sherlock.Why else would I be up here?"
"You should have woken me or Hamish."
She struggled against his embrace."Well, maybe you should give your guests the proper procedure for dealing with intruders or ghosts.Get off of me," she hissed.
He released her suddenly as if only then just realizing he still held her.
Lucy stumbled forward and then whirled on him, blowing the hair from her face as her eyes fell on his lips as they slowly spread into a lopsided grin."What are you smiling about?"
And then she noticed he wasn't wearing a shirt.Or shoes.Just cotton pajama pants hung low on his hips.
Broad shoulders.Flat abs.A hard, cut body.His hair was tousled from sleep.He looked adorable and sexy and manly.And dangerously unpredictable.She could even see faint a line of black hair that traveled from his belly button down to his...Lucy jerked her gaze back up as butterflies swarmed in her belly.
She never should have read thoseWhat's Under Your Kiltjokes on that Scottish web site.Those bagpipe and Nessie analogies swam through her mind, making her face burn.
One of Ian's eyebrows lifted as though he knew exactly what she was thinking.His arms crossed over his chest.Oh, he knew alright.Smug bastard.
Lucy straightened her twisted shirt, blotting out all thoughts of ole Nessie and the jaunty bagpipe tune whistling in her head."Look, I heard the noises.They were keeping me from getting to sleep, so I came to see what was happening.And if this is some sort of plan to make me think there's a ghost, think again because—"
"You think this is a trick?"
She meant to answer, but the thuds came again.Instantly, they turned toward the sound, somewhere far down the hallway.
"Stay here."It was a command, and he didn't wait for an answer.
For a moment, Lucy blindly obeyed.Then it dawned on her.It was always the girl left behind who got the ax first.Forget that.She wasn't about to be monster meat.
