“
I’m
not the one who was supposed to train her to ride,” Emma snapped, stung. “
You’re
the genius who claimed you could turn an actress into the medieval version of an action hero and then put her over a jump she couldn’t handle. The press said she fell halfway down a cliff.”
Butler’s Adam’s apple bobbed in the corded strength of his throat. He stood his ground, but Emma could see rawness in his piercing gaze, a dogged sense of self-blame. Fine, Emma thought. Butler had been chipping away at her self-confidence from the moment they’d come face-to-face at the airport. He’d made it clear he’d use whatever weapons he could find against her. She’d just have to hone a few sharp points of her own.
“Considering what a stellar job you did with the actress you thought would do justice to the role of Lady Aislinn, you can surely understand my curiosity about how you intend to handle me. Now that you ‘own me for the next six weeks,’” she mimicked in a flawless Scots burr, “exactly what are you going to do with me?”
A muscle in Butler’s jaw jumped. “Unfortunately, nobody dared to lock Lady Aislinn in a scold’s bridle.”
“A what?”
“A metal harness that locked around a woman’s head so she couldn’t talk.”
“And we think we have all the modern conveniences.” Thunder rumbled in the distance.
“I suppose there’s some chance Lady Aislinn was locked into a chastity belt when her husband ran off to fight. We could give that a try.”
“Aw, Butler. I didn’t know you cared. But drastic measures are hardly necessary. I’m about as likely to be tempted by you as I would be to fly without an airplane.”
Why did an image suddenly pop into her head? Her role in the senior production at drama school—Peter, in
Peter Pan.
It must be the cliffs that were reminding her of that first, terrifying step she’d made into thin air.
Butler swore as he slowed around a corner. Lightning flashed, rain soaking the landscape, making everything slick and shiny. “Maybe you’re used to men falling all over you, Ms. McDaniel, but I won’t be joining your fan club.”
Emma didn’t hear a word. She gasped as a castle ruin reared up through the storm like a warhorse frozen by a sorcerer’s spell. A single intact tower thrust skyward from the broken curtain wall that had once enclosed all the buildings, livestock and people who owed loyalty to the castle lord: an entire world whose fate had hinged on the courage and wisdom of Lady Aislinn and her husband, Lord Magnus.
White canvas tents smudged the landscape here and there, reminding Emma of costume dramas, tournaments where visiting knights would fight for a lady’s honor. But no bold pennants whipped in the wind and the only thing under attack was the mound of earth that had been reclaiming the tumbled castle walls for centuries.
Precise trenches scored the turf like wounds. Even in the rain, the place bustled with activity. People in knee-high rubber boots and rain gear clustered under the shelters, busy with tasks Emma couldn’t see. A raised metal viewing platform with a railing around the top had been constructed near the widest cut in the ground. Contemporary machinery and a yellow trailer were situated under a copse of hazel trees.
It seemed strange that anything so modern could besiege this castle’s walls. And yet, Emma doubted Castle Craigmorrigan had ever felt at peace. For beyond the intact tower, the ground fell away at the castle’s feet, a wildly crashing ocean flinging itself against the stony outcropping below with the singleminded fury of an invading army.
Emma pictured the forces the villainous Sir Brannoc had brought with him—walling off this thin finger of land. What had it been like the day they set up camp, isolating the castle from the rest of the world?
No escape
…the sea seemed to whisper, cutting off all hope of flight. Emma shuddered, imagining what it would be like to peer out the tower window, to see her enemy building trebuchets, the great siege machines that would soon start battering at the walls the way the past two years had battered at Emma’s heart.
She could
feel
Lady Aislinn, like a pulse, just under the heather-tangled ground, could
see
the castle as it must have been before time and tragedy left its curtain wall broken and all but one of its towers tumbled down.
For the first time since Barry Robards himself had called to offer her the part, she knew it wasn’t a make-believe world she’d inhabit. It was real. The awesome responsibility of telling this story pressed down on Emma like the fallen stones.
What if Butler is right?
self-doubt whispered.
What if you dig down into your soul and your best isn’t good enough? My God, look at this place. Think of this woman. No one on earth knows more about her than Jared Butler. If he’s sure you’ll fail…
Emma’s throat tightened, her hand suddenly unsteady.
Don’t even think it,
she told herself sharply.
You’re not going to fail. You’re going to take whatever he can dish out and not give an inch. Think of this as your test. If you can make
him
believe your portrayal of Lady Aislinn, you can make the whole world believe it. And if they see you can play this role, they’ll know you can play all the others…
The powerful dramatic roles she’d longed for. Feared were forever beyond her reach even before Barry Robards had made it clear that he’d given her this role chiefly because of her stunt prowess and physical training. But she’d hung up the phone, elated, determined to prove to the world that there was far more to Emma McDaniel than that.
And what if you find out there isn’t?
Doubt trickled a chill down her spine.
“Why so quiet?” Butler broke in as he pulled up to the intact tower and put the car in Park. “Not quite up to your five-star hotel standards? You’re more likely to get a rat on your pillow tonight than a mint.”
She should have given him a verbal slap to put him in his place. But she sat, so overwhelmed for a long moment she couldn’t speak.
This was the last thing Lady Aislinn had seen—siege engines hammering the walls, inexorably pounding away at the stone. Her home, lost to her forever.
Emma remembered the home she and Drew had shared in Brentwood, their lives disappearing out of it one cardboard box at a time, just like their promise to love each other forever. But Emma had a life of her own. A career, her gift. What had Lady Aislinn had to cling to when this castle had fallen?
Rain drove against the stone walls like tears from time gone by. Butler opened his door and maneuvered his big body out of the car.
Emma climbed out, rain soaking her hair and sliding down the back of her neck as she made a run toward the door. Too late she realized Butler was ahead of her, intent on getting out of the rain, while her five-hundred-ton suitcase was still in the back of the car.
Bastard. He’d left it there on purpose, for her to manage herself. Fine. Emma slid into the car again and popped the hatch back. Gritting her teeth, she climbed back out into the rain, then slogged to the rear of the Mini Cooper. Heels sinking in mud, she grabbed the handle of the suitcase and pulled. Her knuckles banged against a bolt inside the car.
Emma’s eyes stung as she tugged on the case, wriggling it back and forth, working it toward the edge until it slid free. She squawked, unable to stop the momentum, the heavy case falling toward the mud puddle she was standing in. She swore, fought, but the corner of the case crashed to the ground with a miserable splat. Cold mud splashed up under her raincoat, her shoes soaked through.
Sodden hair clung to her chilled, wet face as she heaved the suitcase up out of the mud, staggering under its weight as she made her way toward the dark mouth of the door.
When she finally trudged into the dank chamber beyond, she waited for warmth to envelop her, for lights to blaze on, driving back the dank gray curtain of storm.
It was June, for God’s sake, but the place was still freezing. She started to shiver.
Butler grinned at her in the beam of a gigantic flashlight, the jerk. A real barn burner of a smile. “Dragging that out was a waste of time,” he said, gesturing toward her dripping suitcase. “Everything in it is off-limits for the next six weeks.”
“Excuse me?” Emma knuckled water out of her left ear, sure she couldn’t have heard him correctly.
“Call it method-acting boot camp. You don’t get to keep anything from the modern world.”
He was enjoying this far too much.
Pure devilment pricked at Emma. “I don’t even get to keep my stash of tampons?” she asked, itching to get a reaction. After years of marriage, Drew had still blushed when she asked him to pick up a box at the drugstore.
Butler only frowned.
“Come on, Butler. Don’t get all shy on me,” Emma sniped. “I’ll be here for six weeks. The issue is bound to come up.”
“I guess you’ll have to deal with it when the time comes.”
“No. My maid would have to deal with…well, whatever. Even you can’t be idiot enough to expect a modern woman to—”
“I expect anyone on this site to do what I tell them.”
“Fine. When my time of the month comes, I’ll announce it to the whole camp.”
Butler’s eyes narrowed. “You’d be just bullheaded enough to do it, wouldn’t you?”
“You betcha, mister.” Emma tried with all her might to keep from shivering. “After all, who died and made you Mussolini?”
“Your director, as a matter of fact.” Butler rubbed his chin. “All right, Ms. McDaniel. Keep your tampons if you must. In the end, one small concession on my part won’t make any difference. You’re not tough enough to survive without all your luxuries. I’ll wager there are plenty of other things in that suitcase you’ll be missing before your time here is finished.”
The glow of triumph she’d felt at unsettling him vanished as the reality of his ultimatum struck her. “There’s no way I’m giving up what’s…There’s something else in my suitcase I…I have to…”
“What? Designer drugs? Your silk knickers?”
“It’s none of your business.” Emma faced him down, hands on her hips. “It’s something I need. Got it, Butler? Isn’t there anything you need? Besides a personality transplant, I mean?”
Butler’s green eyes blazed even hotter, but something in the taut line of his mouth betrayed him. She’d hit a nerve and damn, it felt good.
“One thing,” he snarled. “Got it? You can keep one thing. Agreed?”
Emma tried not to let him see the relief flooding through her. “Agreed.” Instinctively she extended her hand to shake on it. Butler gave her a long look, then his large, work-roughened hand swallowed Emma’s much smaller one in a grasp that was brazenly masculine, surprisingly straightforward. Her fingers, strong in their own right, tested in countless stunts over the years, felt almost delicate for the first time since she’d left her hometown when she was just sixteen.
Heat pulsed between Butler’s palm and hers. The archaeologist’s eyes widened just a touch; Emma’s breath caught. She pulled her hand away and flattened it on the front of her slacks, as if trying to erase the feel of that strange, hot throb.
“Maybe we’ll be able to work together without killing each other after all.”
“I wouldn’t count on it.” Butler folded his arms over his chest, palms against the nubby wool of his sweater, and Emma wondered if he felt the same strange compulsion to buff the feel of her off his hands. It made him seem a tiny bit more human.
“I’ll give you this much, Butler. At least we know where we stand with each other. Hate at first sight.”
“You have to care enough about somebody to hate them,” Butler said.
“Well, all-righty then. That gives me something to aspire to. I assume you have some work to do besides irritating me. So if you could show me where I’ll be staying, we can take a break from each other, at least for a little while.”
“I thought you’d like to stay in Lady Aislinn’s chamber,” he said so pleasantly that Emma knew damn well not to trust him. And yet, how bad could it be? Emma reasoned. Aislinn was the lady of the castle. It had to be the best room of all. She’d seen those old movies where the beds were draped in velvet bed hangings and the walls were hung with tapestries and fires blazed in hearths the size of garden sheds.
“Terrific,” she said, her teeth starting to chatter. “I don’t suppose there are any flashing neon signs to show me the way.”
“No. Just take those stairs up to the top of the tower. I guess we’ll see what you’re made of, Ms. McDaniel. After Sir Brannoc took the castle, Lady Aislinn spent three months in that room. Until Sir Brannoc forced her out. If you can’t manage to stay there for six weeks…”
“I’ll manage,” Emma insisted, her chin bumping up a notch.
“Some even claim that she hid the fairy flag right there.”
Emma’s eyes widened in fascination. “The one that was supposed to keep the castle from falling to an enemy as long as the flag flew inside its walls?”
“No. The other fairy flag. The one with Tinker Bell on it.”
Emma ground her teeth, knowing the man was pulling her chain on purpose, knowing, too, that the less she rose to the bait, the sooner Butler would give up his efforts to torment her.
“What? Nothing to say, Ms. McDaniel?” Butler asked. “Did you expect me to be impressed that you bothered to read the script? The fairy flag is an integral part of the legend.”
“A gossamer-thin piece of cloth brought as Lady Aislinn’s dowry,” Emma supplied. “A gift of the fairies to be passed down to the most beautiful daughter born to the chief of Clan MacGregor. A hundred suitors filled her father’s hall, all vying to win her hand in marriage so they could become invincible.”
“A good way to be certain your daughter was well treated once she was married and beyond your care. Husbands had total power over their wives then. The woman who dared put a gold circlet on Robert the Bruce’s head was imprisoned by her angry husband for four years in a cage shaped like a crown hanging outside the castle.”
“Nice guy. But then, you did warn me to head across the water to Ireland if I wanted charm. What happened to the lady?”
“The countess survived. God knows how.”