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A s a girl, Macie marched to the rhythm of her own drum, or so her mother had said. Heaven knew she’d given her governesses more than their fair share of aggravation when she rebelled against the tutelage meant to prepare her to be a fine lady. She’d much preferred to traipse along with her brother and his boyhood friends through the wooded lands surrounding their country home. Her imagination had run wild as she peered into dark hollows, climbed trees, and navigated slippery stones by gentle streams. At times, she’d felt a fright, but all in all, the experiences had been exhilarating. Far more so than mastering an embroidered stitch or knitting a perfect cable. Her father had sternly disapproved of the way she gallivanted about with the lads, as he’d put it. But Mum, a free-spirited redhead whose complexion was dotted with freckles, had encouraged Macie to explore her world to her heart’s content.

A month earlier, she would have been utterly thrilled by the prospect of a research trip to Athens, accompanied by a dashing professor, no less. Documenting the expedition would allow her to develop her craft at a new level entirely. She could envision the excitement her photographic portrayal might garner, while the journey itself would be something unlike anything she’d experienced.

So why was she sitting alone in her garden, gazing up at the crescent moon, holding back emotions she didn’t want to feel?

Very little that has occurred in recent days has been ordinary . In one rather flippant sentence, Nell had neatly described Macie’s life since the moment she’d slipped on a puddle of some awful burgundy wine and fallen directly into the hands of Finn Caldwell. Ever since she’d looked into his eyes that night, nothing had seemed quite the same.

If the opportunity to travel to Athens with Professor Aylesworth and his team was indeed offered, she’d be a fool to turn it down. Wouldn’t she? Weeks earlier, the answer would’ve come easily. But now, so much had changed.

For so very long, she’d quieted the longings of her heart. She’d felt so certain that she would have to somehow become someone else in order to marry. The kind of love her mum and papa had cherished for so many years seemed unattainable, a mere fantasy for a woman like her.

Until she’d kissed Finn.

Until she’d delighted in the sound of his husky voice when he told her she was beautiful. Savored the feel of his skin against hers. Reveled in the pleasure of his touch.

Until she’d opened her heart to him. And him alone.

Could she bear to leave Finn for weeks, perhaps even months? There was so much to learn about him. So much to learn about each other. And the bond they were forging.

And there was another concern, wasn’t there? If Finn’s worries were justified—if she had somehow become mired in some criminal’s vile scheme, she could not risk putting Professor Aylesworth and his fellow researchers in danger. If the situation were not resolved before his departure, she could not even consider accompanying the group.

She wandered over to her tea rose. Beneath the dim gaslight of the sconce, it seemed to glow with golden tones as its subtle aroma surrounded her.

“Are ye well, my sweet?” Finn’s gravel-edged tones warmed her. Throughout the night, he’d been cool to her. Distant. Perhaps even aloof.

“My sweet, is it?” She turned to him. “Given that you’d scarcely said two words to me since dinner, I find that a bit surprising.”

He crossed the patio, joining her by the roses. “I’d defy any man to get a word in when Nell and Mrs. Johnstone are in a spirited conversation.” He threaded his fingers through a rogue tendril of her hair and swept it behind her ear, a tempting smile playing on his lips.

“That doesn’t entirely explain your reticence. It’s rather out of character, you must admit.”

“Is it now?” He caught her fingers in his, making tiny circles with his thumb over the back of her hand. “At times, a wise man knows the less he says, the better.”

“And tonight was one of those times?”

His shoulders lifted and fell, a casual shrug that contradicted the primal heat in his gaze. “It was.” He grazed his fingertips along the curve of her jaw. “A complicated situation has become even more tangled. We both know ye’ll soon have a decision to make. Aylesworth won’t wait forever.”

“So, it’s his visit that’s troubling you.”

“In a word, yes.” Finn didn’t dance around the subject.

She bit back a little grin. “Why, Finn, am I to believe you’re jealous?”

“Of that pompous arse?” His eyes flashed with emotion, contradicting his flippant words.

“That pompous arse is a scholar, and by all accounts, a gentleman.”

“Gentleman?” he scoffed. “The bloke fights dirty. That’s a bad sign, in my book.”

“As I don’t anticipate engaging the man in a bout of fisticuffs, I can say that does not signify as a problem in my book. Besides, Nell is rather taken with him.”

“ Nell is not the subject of his interest.” Finn’s voice was low and gruff and so very appealing. “That honor belongs to ye, Macie.”

The raw emotion in his voice touched her at a primitive level. She met his intent gaze. Finn truly was jealous, wasn’t he?

How very appealing.

She pulled in a low breath, steadying the slight racing of her pulse. “Professor Aylesworth’s interest in me, for lack of a better word, is tied to my skill behind the camera. He wishes to document the expedition. There’s nothing more to it.”

“Do ye really believe that?” Finn raked his fingers through his hair.

“So, you think it’s all a lie?” She took a step back, folded her arms, and shot him a glare. “A mere ploy to flatter me?”

Finn gave his head a brisk shake. “I don’t question that he respects the artistry in yer work. He’d be a fool not to see yer talent.” His gaze locked with hers. “But Macie, he’s still a man.”

“Am I to believe that a man cannot embark on an endeavor with a woman present without there being some... complication?”

The line of his jaw hardened as he considered her question. “I cannot say it is not possible. But in the case of Peter Aylesworth, I have my doubts,” he said. “Macie, I saw how the man looked at ye.”

“And precisely what did you see?”

“He looked at ye like he’d come upon some rare treasure.”

She pulled in a low breath. “Really, Finn, it’s not like you to be so... poetic.”

“Ye think I’m exaggerating, do ye?” He slowly shook his head. “The man looked at ye like a bloody goddess had come to life.” Finn reached for her again, caressing her cheek with a feather-light touch. “He looked at ye the way I did at the moment ye fell into my arms.”

Macie swallowed hard against a sudden rush of emotion. “As I recall, you were none too taken with me that night.”

“And that’s where ye’re wrong, Macie. I was looking upon a beautiful lass, a diamond far out of my reach. I knew that truth all too well.”

Her pulse beat a steady rhythm against her ears. “And now?”

“Now, I know that I want ye. In my arms. So close, I can feel the beats of yer heart.” His smile warmed every inch of her body. “Whatever the risk I might have to take, Macie—ye’re worth it.”

Reaching up, she drew her fingertips over his stubble-roughened jaw. A subtle aroma of bergamot and soap filled her senses. “I rather like this side of you, Finn Caldwell.”

“Do ye, now?” He brushed a kiss over her lips. Soft. Gentle. Yet searing with unspoken need.

She smiled beneath the heat of his gaze. “As a matter of fact, I might say I adore it.”

A sensuous smile played on his mouth. “Ah, ye’re a true temptation, lass. If ye were mine... if we were truly alone, I’d prove it to ye. Right here beneath the moonlight.”

Macie’s heart raced. At this moment, she didn’t care about anything else. Or anyone else. Only this man. And the decadent heat of his kiss.

“And if I want that as well?”

“Someday, lass.” He framed her face between his hands. His mouth brushed hers, a gentle caress. And then deeper. Stronger. Claiming her kiss, leaving no doubt of his hunger. He kissed her again, a light touch of his lips to hers, seeming to savor every precious moment.

“And if that someday... could be tonight?” she whispered against his mouth.

“Ye’re so bloody beautiful,” he said, his voice raw with need. His hands fell away, even as his gaze locked with hers. “I’ve never wanted anything in my life more than I want ye.”

Macie sighed. She ached for his touch. For his kiss. For the sound of her name on his gravel-edged voice.

She pressed a kiss to his lips. “When you look at me like that, the world melts away.”

His arms slipped around her again, drawing her close. Her cheek pressed to his broad, hard chest, to the white linen shirt that came between her and the heat of his skin. Oh, how she wanted it gone. Her hands went to tug the ends of his shirt loose. Boldly, she inched the fabric higher, but he stilled her hands.

“Ah, Macie, I want ye, lass. But bloody hell, ye deserve more than a hurried passion.” He traced the curve of her face with his fingertips, infinitely gently. “Ye deserve more. Ye deserve everything that I can give ye.”

“Oh, Finn,” she breathed his name in a sigh. Her fingers threaded through the silky strands of his hair. “In this moment, I am yours.”

“There’s no need to rush in, lass.” A smile played on his lips, deliciously wicked. “I want to savor every inch of yer beautiful body. I want to hold ye in my arms all bloody night.” He kissed her again, a caress filled with heat and longing and tenderness. “A proper seduction takes time. Someday, Macie, ye’ll know how much I need ye. And then, ye will be well and truly mine.”

*

“My, Macie, you are distracted, aren’t you?”

Nell’s gentle nudge pulled Macie from her thoughts. Gazing down at the hustle and bustle of the street below her grandfather’s parlor, Macie had drifted into a comfortable daydream. It seemed fitting, really, that her thoughts on this gloomy afternoon would be filled with images and all-too-recent memories of Finn. He’d been the subject of her dreams the night before, in those long hours after he’d crept up the stairs with her to her room, but left her safe and sound and thoroughly sated. In those delicious moments, he’d kissed her until she was wild for him. He’d brought her to a peak so intense, it had left her nearly mindless with the sheer pleasure of it. And utterly besotted with the man she adored.

But he’d held back. Teaching her the ways of pleasure with his gentle hands and delicious mouth. Bringing her delight beyond anything she’d ever imagined. But he would not claim her as his own.

Not yet. Not until the moment was utterly right.

A proper seduction takes time.

Finn had become so very protective of her. He’d vowed he would never go beyond what she wanted him to do. He would not hurry their seduction. How very delicious. The very thought of it made her want him all the more.

“Are you well, Macie?” Nell pressed. “You’re not yourself today.”

Macie tucked her thoughts of Finn in the back of her mind. Sweet memories of his tenderness were just the thing to fill a long, lonely night. But for now, she had to form a coherent thought in response to Nell’s question.

“I suppose I am a bit distracted,” she said, turning to meet Nell’s curious gaze.

Nell looked to be fighting back a grin. “Mr. Caldwell?”

“Is it so obvious?”

“The truth is in your eyes,” Nell said. “You cannot hide it. I know you too well.”

“That you do, my friend,” she said.

“Personally, I think it’s grand,” Nell said.

“So do I,” Macie said. “For now, I suppose I should ready my equipment. If I’m to photograph that creepy old theater in time for my exhibition, I need to get to it.”

“That place gives me a chill. I do think the rumors are true.”

“You believe there are ghosts?”

Nell grinned. “It would be exciting if there were, wouldn’t it?”

“I’m not quite sure I’d wish for that kind of excitement right now.”

“To each her own,” Nell said with a brief grin. “Mrs. Johnstone is still in the library reviewing some of your grandfather’s papers. It’s all quite fascinating.”

“I’d no idea you were interested in antiquities.”

“Your grandfather’s perspectives are intriguing, even to someone who has not studied ancient myths.”

“He was a brilliant man,” Macie said. “At heart, he was a teacher. He wanted to share his passion for the ancient world.”

“Indeed,” Nell agreed. “I’m going to spend a bit more time with his papers until you’re ready to depart for the theater.”

As Nell left the room, Macie took up her sketchbook and settled into a comfortable chair by the window. She needed to give some thought to the images she wished to capture. Now, with her thoughts more settled and surrounded by quiet, she could focus on the gloomy old theater.

She’d put pencil to paper for a pair of rough sketches and had begun a third when Nell and Mrs. Johnstone bustled through the door.

“Macie, you need to see this,” Nell said, joining her by the window.

“What have you found?” A blend of excitement and puzzlement swept over Macie as Mrs. Johnstone entered, a small rosewood cabinet in her hands. “You have my grandfather’s writing box?”

“Its contents were quite an interesting find,” Mrs. Johnstone said.

“How did you open it? The key is tucked away in grandfather’s safe. I simply haven’t had the heart to search through it yet.”

Her friend sported a cheeky expression. “That lock was no match for the talents of Nell Blake.”

“A woman of many talents,” Mrs. Johnstone commented, sounding genuinely impressed. “I’ve found the ability to best a lock to be a valuable skill.”

“Why does that not surprise me?” Macie said.

“Honestly, this one was a bit of a bugger. Very cantankerous.” Nell tapped the front of the box with one finger. “It took me a bit of longer than usual, but it could not defeat me.”

Macie hiked a brow. Her friend had secrets, indeed. “Longer than usual?”

“You might have said I was a snoop as a girl. Let’s just say that my older sister, the oh-so-perfect Cecily, never possessed a diary I could not read.”

“You’re horrible,” Macie teased.

“Ceci thought so,” Nell said.

Mrs. Johnstone chuckled, then gently nudged the discussion back on course. “Shall we turn back to the matter at hand?”

“Of course.” Nell lifted the lid and retrieved a page that seemed to have been torn from a journal. “Is this your grandfather’s handwriting?”

Glancing down at the notes, Macie recognized her grandfather’s brash scrawl. “Most definitely.”

Nell took a few neatly folded sheets from the box. “There’s more. Pages of research.”

“I cannot say that surprises me. Grandpapa wrote prolific notes on his collection. He filled many journals.”

“There is something else, though—a rather exciting find.” Enthusiasm colored Nell’s voice. “Take a look, Macie.”

“Do be careful, Nell,” Mrs. Johnstone advised as Nell lifted a yellowed document from within the box. “You would not wish to damage the parchment.”

Holding it gingerly by the corners, Nell displayed a letter penned with dark slashes of ink. As Macie leaned forward to take a better look, Mrs. Johnstone pointed out the notation in the upper corner of the page.

“This date places it in the sixteenth century,” she said. “Over time, the script within the body of the letter has faded. But I can make out references to Michelangelo and Titian. This document may be quite valuable.”

“My grandfather collected the papers of many Renaissance scholars,” Macie said.

“Is it possible he’d hidden more away?” Nell said.

“I suppose he might have.”

“That bothersome Mr. Neville might have good reason to want to get his hands on your grandfather’s papers.” Excitement brightened Nell’s gaze. “This library might contain many more old letters—a trove of hidden treasure.”