Free Sizzle All Day by Geralyn Dawson Page B

his cards right, this trip to Scotland might qualify as the beginning of his much desired life of adventure.
    "You answer my questions first," she said. "Then I'll release you."
    "And you'll show yourself to me."
    "I will. Now you must give swear on your soul that everything you tell me will be the truth."
    "I swear." The scent of jasmine drifted past his nose and he savored it with a smile.
    "Very well. First, I want to know—"
    "Wait. You forgot to seal our bargain. A kiss should take care of it."
    Instead of a kiss, she pinched his arm. Hard. "Consider the bargain sealed," she said. "Now tell me who you really are, what has brought you to Rowanclere, and why you were searching our library."
    "You are not a very friendly ghost, lady," he protested. "In Texas our ghosts—"
    "Your true name?"
    "I really am Jake Delaney of San Antonio, Texas." Then he sighed and gave her the truth that had little to do with the questions she wanted answered. "I've come to Rowanclere because I'm a man on the run."
    "From the law?"
    "In a manner of speaking. My mother is the daughter of the Earl of Thornbury. The woman is attempting to use her father's influence to meddle where she shouldn't be meddling. This trip was the best way I could find to escape the... consequences... of her influence."
    "What consequences?"
    Even though Jake intended to use this line of conversation as a distraction, he still found he had to work himself up to say the word. It sounded as sour as it tasted. "Marriage."
    Damned if she didn't laugh. Grumbling, he asked, "Would you untie my right hand, please? My fingers are going to sleep."
    She ignored that, instead asking, "You are betrothed?"
    "No, and I'm not gonna be. It's actually all my sister's fault because she got married last winter and that turned my mother's attention to me. Mother and Thornbury have only recently reconciled after being estranged for years. Therefore, anything she wants, he moves heaven and earth to make happen."
    "She wants you married."
    "And I'm happy as an armadillo digging grubworms being a bachelor."
    "An armadillo digging grubworms?" she repeated dryly. "Lovely. But what does any of this have to do with Rowanclere? With our library?"
    So much for distractions. Now came the time to talk the tightrope between truth and fiction without giving away the game entirely. "That has to do with an Englishman. A baron. Tell me, are you familiar with a fellow by the name of Bennet? Lord Bennet of Derbyshire?"
    All sound ceased and the dungeon seemed to grow even colder. In a thin, thready voice, she asked, "Who?"
    "Lord Bennet. He has an estate called Harpur Priory."
    "Did he send you here?"
    "In a manner of speaking, yes."
    Without warning, she moved. He felt a fast tug at his left wrist, then his left ankle and the ropes fell away.
    She spoke in a voice as flat and chilly as the grave. "Leave Rowanclere today, Delaney. Never return."
    What the hell? Shocked by her response, he was slow to tug off the blindfold. Twisting his head around, he searched for her in the shadows and spied a movement right before the light died, accompanied by the hiss of fire in water. She had doused the torch.
    For the first time since the haunting farce began, Jake felt just a shiver of unease. "Wait a minute. What about our bargain?"
    The burr of Scotland thickened a distant voice trembling with anger. "Take a lesson home with ye from Scotland, Texas. Bargains are like guid shortbread. Baith crumble easily."
    Then she was gone.
    "Damn," Jake said into the silence that lingered behind her. He blew out a long, slow whistle, then picked at the knots in the line binding his right wrist and ankle, pondering what had just taken place. What can of worms had he opened here? What had that bastard Bennet done to the people of Rowanclere Castle?
    Judging by the woman's reaction, it had to have been bad.
    Free now, he felt his way along the cold stone wall toward a door and the corridor beyond, where in the distance, a burning