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quite often here.” He smiled at
her, which made her stomach do an alarming shimmy. “Wait until we get a storm,
you’ll see.”
    She fought the urge to shiver. “I’d worry about all the ghosts
coming out to party.”
    “I don’t worry about them.” He shoved his hand into the tangle
of candlesticks.
    “So there are ghosts?”
    “I’d imagine so.” He plucked one out and turned it in the
light. “But as long as they leave me alone I won’t bother them, either.”
    She stared. James Drummond was turning out to be quite
different than she’d imagined. “I guess we should go through these and see if
any of them could be a cup base. They are more or less the same shape. How big
is the cup?”
    He frowned. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen pictures of it. I
suppose I should call Cousin Katherine and get all the details now that we’re
officially on the prowl for it.”
    “I bet she’ll be thrilled.”
    “She will. Let’s ask her to send some photos of the other
pieces.”
    * * *
    Katherine was out. James left a message explaining their
situation and asking her to call.
    Exhausted from their long trip, they ate an early dinner of
beautifully prepared mini hens with some sort of fruity sauce and went to their
separate rooms. She locked the door from the inside with the great iron key in
the lock.
    Not that James was likely to come looking for her after
midnight, of course, but after what happened that afternoon…
    She woke up in the dead of night with no idea what time it was.
She’d fallen asleep like someone plunging into a coma and hadn’t taken the time
to keep her phone handy. The sky must have been overcast, as there was no hint
of a moon. The room was a black hole.
    With ghosts probably hanging around in the corners, watching
her.
    She pulled the covers up over her shoulders. That kiss had been
crazy. It came out of nowhere and blew her off her feet like a Santa Ana wind.
She had no idea he was that attracted to her. She’d been ogling him, sure, but
she was pretty confident she had her lust under control. She wasn’t usually
given to bouts of groping and fondling strange men she’d just met.
    He must have been feeling the same way. She shifted into the
mattress with a swell of satisfaction. So, James Drummond thought she was
hot.
    Then she bit her lip. She was here to help her father. James
Drummond’s baser instincts were interesting to her only in so far as they’d help
her get that factory back.
    She sat up. There had been times when she’d almost forgotten
about her father and that accursed factory, but now that she was away from
Drummond’s seductive gaze she should focus on what was really important.
    Determined to find her phone, she slid her feet gingerly over
the edge of the bed, hoping no spectral hands would grab at her ankles.
    Stop being a wuss. The Persian rug
felt threadbare under her toes, and a floorboard creaked alarmingly when she
leaned her weight on one foot. Heart pounding, she crept across the room to the
chair where she’d left her purse. Groping in the dark, she found her phone and
let out a sigh of relief. She scurried back to the bed and climbed under the
covers, then pulled up her father’s number.
    It rang the inevitable four times before he answered with a
gruff, “Hello.”
    “Hi, Dad.” She smiled at the sound of the words. She’d longed
all her life to have a relationship with her father. She’d gone almost twelve
years without even seeing him, and she was still angry with her mother for
insisting that it was best to leave him alone.
    “Who is it?” He did have an abrasive tone. She could see he
wasn’t a good match for her bubbly, artistic mother.
    “It’s Fiona.” Who else could he think it was? He didn’t have
any other children. He was funny. “You won’t believe where I’m calling
from.”
    Suddenly she wondered if she should tell him. Would he believe
she’d come all the way to Scotland just to help him out, or would he suspect she
had