Roses in Moonlight - By Lynn Kurland Page 0,104

charming people out of their priceless treasures, but he could also be quite useful when it came to planning exit strategies. Derrick couldn’t say he would be particularly interested in having Ewan along for the ride, but he wouldn’t be unhappy to have his advice beforehand.

He looked at Samantha, who was simply watching him, silent and grave. He smiled.

“What is it?”

She shook her head. “Just watching. They’re impressive.”

He nodded. “They are.”

“And your cousin has interesting toys.” She nodded toward the architectural printer in the corner. “Good for plans, I suppose.”

“And large games of naughts and crosses.”

She smiled. “I imagine so.” Her smile faded a bit. “What can I do?”

He knew what he needed but almost hesitated to ask. He rubbed his hands together. “I’m not an expert in Elizabethan textiles, but . . .”

She sighed. “I can put off my leap into artistic endeavors for another few days and play historian if you like.”

“Then let’s invade Cameron’s sanctuary. He has all kinds of books up there on all kinds of obscure things. I’m sure he has a book on costumery.”

“I don’t suppose he has any costumes lying around.”

“I think I might manage to find a few in London.” That was badly understating what his apartment was full of, but there was no point in telling her things that didn’t make any difference at the moment. He wasn’t even quite sure what he had that would have served a woman, so obviously things would have to be acquired on short notice. The sooner he knew what they needed, the better.

He left the lads to their work and walked with Samantha up the stairs to Cameron’s private study.

• • •

Three hours and a lovely supper later, he was sitting on the couch with his bare feet on Cameron’s coffee table, trying to stay awake. He honestly wasn’t sure he’d managed it entirely. He rubbed the grit out of his eyes and looked to his right. Samantha was sitting in a chair facing at right angles to his. She had lost her shoes somewhere as well, but she apparently didn’t feel comfortable enough to put her feet on the furniture.

The sea had done what he’d wanted to but never dared, namely pulled several strands of hair out of her braid. She kept tucking those strands behind her ears. He would have asked her to stop, but then she would have looked at him as if he’d been daft.

He wondered what she would have done if he’d simply leaned over and kissed her.

Likely punched him in the nose.

So to avoid having to explain that, he simply sat lounging on Cameron’s sofa and watched her read. She was engrossed, that was obvious. She was also making notes, which he supposed shouldn’t have surprised him.

She glanced at him, then did a double take and smiled. “Nice nap?”

“I couldn’t help it,” he said with a yawn. “Too many nights chasing after a very pretty textile thief.”

She blinked. “Me?”

He smiled, deciding that if she had to ask, perhaps it was best not to wax rhapsodic about her charms lest he indeed give into his first impulse, which was to pull her over to sit next to him and show her just how pretty he thought she was. He sat up and attempted to change the subject.

“Find anything interesting?”

“It depends on the date. What did you guess, 1602?”

“I’m thinking so,” he said. “Someone was talking about Hamlet when we were last there. The first quarto was registered in late July of that year, if memory serves, so I think we can almost guarantee it was being performed.”

Her mouth fell open. “How do you know that?”

He put his feet on the floor and leaned forward to rub his face with his hands. He shook off the aftereffects of what had indeed been a very nice nap, then looked as casual as possible.

“I was a bit of a theater buff growing up.”

She closed her book. “Did you grow up here at the castle?”

He started to tell her that those were details she probably didn’t need, but realized hard on the heels of that that he actually did want to tell her a few things. Perhaps it went with the absolute madness of taking her to the shore. To his house that he’d bought with his own money.

“Never mind,” she said with a smile. “Didn’t mean to pry.”

He looked at her in surprise, then winced. “Sorry. I don’t have a very good poker face.”

“No, actually, you don’t. How you talk anyone out

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