Beguiled by Arnette Lamb

her.”
    Juliet’s influence had left its mark on Agnes, and for that she was proud. On the day Agnes met Bianca Campbell, the woman who’d given birth to her, Juliet had been at her side. “He did, but we all reaped the benefits.”
    â€œA delightful woman,” he said. “A match and more for the Highland rogue. Life here will surely be boring to you.”
    Even wearing modern clothing, he looked at home in the ancient surroundings. Were he to don the plain clothes of the Dark Ages, he would have dominated the room. In any era or wearing any style, Lord Edward Napier commanded female admiration.
    â€œHow can life be boring while someone is trying to kill you?”
    â€œTrying is the operative word.”
    Uneasy with her growing attraction to him, she turned and opened the door to the tower. Stale, musty air rushed out, and a mass of cobwebs ripped from their moorings. Peering inside, she could see an arch-shaped pattern of moonlight streaking across the dusty floor. Overhead a vast wooden wheel of aged and spent candles marked this tower as the bedrock of Napier House. Other than discarded stools and chairs and some kind of spinning machine, the room was empty.
    â€œYou’ll soil your dress.”
    Yes, but she’d have a peek anyway. The tower was probably the safest part of the estate. To be sure, she’d come back for a closer inspection and bring a torch to deal with the current inhabitants.
    â€œTell me about the tower. How many rooms?”
    â€œThree, one on top of the next.”
    â€œHow many entrances?”
    â€œJust this one. There’s a door leading to the battlement on the top floor, but no ladder to reach it.”
    Satisfied for now, she closed the door and returned to her immediate mission. “May we walk a bit? I’m rather stiff from sitting in the carriage for so long, and I’m not sleepy in the least. Unless ’twould be an inconvenience for you?”
    Good manners dictated that he oblige her. He grasped the lantern. “No, of course not.”
    Even had he declined, she would have gone to her room, waited a while, then come downstairs to continue her inspection. Tomorrow morning she would put her opinions to paper. After that she would visit the harbormaster, as she always did when in a port city, and look for information about Virginia. But Glasgow was unique, for it was home to Haskit Trimble, an unusual man with exceptional abilities, many of which he’d passed on to Agnes.
    Later in the day, she’d present her suggestions to Lord Edward. This family was in danger, and she intended to help them, with or without his consent.
    They retraced the path they’d taken to the old wing, but instead of entering the formal parlor, he swung the lamp toward a hallway to the left.
    As they walked, she said, “My father swears that I prefer the night because I was born on the shortest one of the year.”
    â€œMidsummer’s Night?”
    â€œYes, but please don’t feel obliged to indulge me. Retire if you like. I promise not to bang a drum or inconvenience the staff.” But she’d inspect that tower tonight.
    â€œEveryone’s abed, my lady.”
    Perspiration glowed on his forehead, and his face bore the shadow of a stubble. She recalled the feel of his skin brushing gently against hers. For how long must she remember? The answer came easily: until she thought of his response. Love? he’d scoffed. ’Twas desire, raw and base. To perdition with him and his vulgar honesty.
    â€œAuntie Loo said you had bad dreams,” he said in his doctorly tone. “Is that why you do not sleep for long?” When she did not answer immediately, he added, “ ’Tis not uncommon, nor is it a sign of a serious malady.”
    He shouldn’t be so attentive, not about personal matters. No doctor on earth could ease her sleepless nights; only the return of Virginia MacKenzie could. “Auntie