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myself just fine.” She glanced around the dark bedroom, reluctant to
hang up the phone and lose her lifeline back to the real world. It was 3:00
a.m., with hours of darkness between now and morning. And who knew how many auld
ghosts hung and hovered in the corners. “When I get back I want to take you to
my new favorite restaurant.” Hopefully to give him the good news that she’d
regained control of his factory, but no sense getting overconfident.
    “I’d love that, Fifi. It’ll be my treat.”
    She swallowed. She wasn’t sure he could even buy her dinner at
McDonald’s at the moment, but he’d be terribly upset if he knew she knew that.
She had to come up with all kinds of creative stratagems to pay for their meals
and buy him presents. His pride had no doubt played a part in his fall—a lesson
she could learn from. “Great. You’d better not call me here, just in case. I
don’t want them to figure out I’m your daughter. I’m keeping everything
secret.”
    He laughed, obviously delighted by the subterfuge. “My lips are
sealed.”
    “I’ll call again soon.” She hung up, with a sudden rush of
emotion and happiness that she had a second chance to grow close to her father.
She wasn’t going to blow it. He’d always wished for a son to carry on his name,
but she’d show him that a daughter could be even better.
    * * *
    Her next encounter with James came at the breakfast table.
Bored and restless alone in her room, she grew brave and ventured downstairs by
herself. She hadn’t fallen back to sleep after her conversation with her father,
and now she was starving. Dishes of bacon, a rack of cold toast with butter and
marmalade, a vat of jellified oatmeal. All very austere and aristocratic. She
wolfed down some toast and bacon, and three cups of brutally strong tea, and was
feeling fairly human by the time he strode in.
    “Sorry I wasn’t down first. I was more tired than I
thought.”
    “No worries. I found my way here. I might get used to having
breakfast waiting for me every morning.”
    “Would you like coffee? We do have some, way up in a cupboard
somewhere.”
    “I’ll survive on tea. I like to go native when I’m in a new
place.”
    “Katherine emailed me pictures of the other two parts of the
cup. I’ve just sent them to you.”
    She pulled out her phone and looked at hard-to-read images of
dark metal against a white background. “She’s very excited that I’m finally
looking for it. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I’m using security
guards to prevent people from combing the estate for it and claiming her
reward.”
    Fiona smiled. “We’d better find it quick before she raises the
reward to attract more people.”
    “Too true.” James was more annoyingly handsome than ever. He
wore loose riding breeches with tall leather boots and a checked shirt, which
should have looked silly but made him seem tall and dashing and like the lord
and master of all he surveyed. “I’m going riding this morning and I thought you
might join me, if you’re interested.” His eyebrow lifted slightly. Was he
calling her bluff? Maybe he didn’t believe she could ride.
    “I’d love to.” She smiled coolly. “I hope it’s not against the
law to ride in jeans and loafers.”
    “We have so many old laws here I just assume everything’s
forbidden and go ahead with it anyway.” He piled bacon, toast and some bright
orange scrambled eggs onto a plate. “Luckily the place is so big and remote
there’s no one around to stop me.”
    “Good.” Her pulse had quickened. Possibly from the prospect of
galloping through the Scottish countryside, but more likely from the
early-morning vision of James, with his dark hair wet and slicked back, and
droplets of water still clinging to his neck and dampening the collar of his
shirt. “Do you miss riding when you’re in Singapore?” She still found it odd
that he chose to spend most of his time there when he had his own grand empire
here in