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nodded. “She’s coping with that as well as theloss of her parents—or will be whenever that frozen shell of hers shatters. She needs time, Nick.”
    “I don’t know how much time I can give her.” He spoke absently, his gaze abstracted and his face curiously immobile.
    Mercy felt a tingle of uneasiness, but said lightly, “I wasn’t aware you had some kind of deadline in mind.”
    Those hypnotic eyes focused on her, unreadable, and after an instant he smiled slightly. “I don’t. I’m just naturally impatient. You should know that by now.”
    What Mercy knew was just the opposite, that he had the patience of a hunting cougar, perfectly capable of hunkering down in utter stillness and waiting as long as it took to get what he wanted.
    He always got what he wanted.
    What she didn’t know was if he had deliberately lied just now or if he honestly had no idea that he had given away that character trait of patience. Either way, it made her uneasiness increase.
    Reluctant to question him, she got to her feet and changed the subject. “I have to get some papers out of Duncan’s safe before Leigh has a fit, so I’d better go. Anything you need me to do?”
    Before Nicholas could answer, there was a soft knock followed instantly by Leigh peering around the door. She had been so quick that if they had been doing anything indiscreet, they would have been caught. But if she had hoped for that, the office manager hid her disappointment well.
    She smiled brightly. “Sorry to interrupt—but, Mercy, I really need those papers.”
    “I’ll get them now, Leigh.”
    “Good. Thanks. Sorry again.” She retreated, closing the door quietly.
    “Yes, there is something I need you to do,” Nicholas said. “I need you to have a lock put on that door.”
    “Oh, no!” Mercy turned away, adding over her shoulder, “Then she’d know she was right to suspect sinful things going on in here. See you later.” She heard Nicholas laugh as she left his office, but thought the sound didn’t hold much amusement.
    And that bothered her more than anything.
    It was Friday afternoon when Rachel decided to go into Richmond. She was planning to do a bit of shopping, more to get out of the house than because there was anything she wanted or needed. Her restlessness had not abated; if anything, it had only gotten stronger. And her vacillation between selling out and returning to New York or staying here was really beginning to bother her.
    She got into her mother’s Mercedes sedan and drove down to the front gate, which was standing open because Darby’s workmen had been hauling attic furniture from the house since early morning.
    Rachel turned toward Richmond, and her car began to pick up speed as it moved down a long slope. She reached absently to change the radio station. When she glanced back up at the virtually deserted road, she felt a shock as she once again saw the blond man.
    He was standing at the bottom of the slope, still a quarter-mile away, but Rachel knew it was the man she had seen before. Sunlight glinted off his silvery hair, and his lean face was turned toward her. He was just off the road, near a big oak tree and the corner of the brick wall that surrounded much of the Grant estate.
    Without arguing with herself, Rachel stepped on thebrake, determined not to let him slip away this time. She had to see him, talk to him, had to find out who he was—
    The brake pedal resisted for an instant, and then went easily all the way to the floorboard.
    The emergency brake proved equally useless, and the gearshift refused to budge.
    She couldn’t stop the car.
    In the space of only heartbeats, Rachel knew that her only choice was to somehow get off the road. Just beyond the bottom of the slope was a traffic light, always busy; she couldn’t take the chance of getting through it without hitting another car or a pedestrian.
    She waited until the blond man flashed by on her right, then she wrenched the steering wheel to the right,