Nobody can write Forbidden Fantasies
like Cara Summers!
Of Led Into Temptation

“Sensationally sensual … this tale of a forbidden,

guilt-ridden love is a delight. Brimming with diverse,

compelling characters, scorching-hot love scenes,

romance and even a ghost, this story is unforgettable.”

—Romancejunkies.com

“This deliciously naughty fantasy takes its time

heating up, but it’s worth the wait! …”

—RT Book Reviews

Of Taken Beyond Temptation

“Great characters with explosive chemistry, a fun

intrigue-flavored plot and a high degree of sensuality

add up to an excellent read! …”

—RT Book Reviews

“Filled with intrigue, mystery, humor, sizzling

hot love scenes, a well-matched couple, a surprise

ending and a ghost, this story is unforgettable

and definitely a winner.”

—Romancejunkies.com

Of Twice the Temptation

“Well written! … Fans will be delighted to see their

favorites return for brief appearances …”

—RT Book Reviews

“Cara Summers has penned two tales in Twice the Temptation which will not be forgotten, but will live on in the reader’s fantasies.” —Cataromance.com

Dear Reader,

I love writing FORBIDDEN FANTASIES for Blaze, and so getting the chance to write three in a row is a real treat!

Seven years ago, spurred on by their father’s wedding, a bottle of champagne and a serious case of lust for their new stepmother’s gorgeous sons, Adair, Piper and Nell MacPherson each wrote down their most secret sexual fantasies about their “ideal” man and buried them in a stone arch on their family’s estate. Then they forgot all about them. Almost.

Now, one by one, the Sutherland triplets, Cam, Duncan and Reid, are being drawn back to Castle MacPherson, not only by the erotic fantasies penned all those years ago, but also to right a wrong and restore a stolen bride’s long-missing dowry to its rightful owners.

I hope that you enjoy Cam and Adair’s story, No Risk Refused, and that you will look for No Holds Barred in September and then No Desire Denied. All three books feature an amazing dog named Alba, who currently resides at the Northeast Animal Shelter in Salem, Massachusetts, but is waiting for her forever home. I hope you fall in love with her just as I did.

For news on my future releases, visit www.carasummers.com. And for more information on the Northeast Animal Shelter and the Blaze Authors’ Pet Project, visit www.blazeauthors.com/blog.

May all your forbidden fantasies come true!

Cara Summers

About the Author

Was CARA SUMMERS born with the dream of becoming a published romance novelist? No. But now that she is, she still feels her dream has come true. And she owes it all to her mother, who handed her a Mills & Boon novel and said, “Try it. You’ll love it.” Mom was right! Cara has written over forty stories for Blaze, and she has won numerous awards including a Lifetime Achievement Award for Series Storyteller of the Year from RT Book Reviews. When she isn’t working on new books, she teaches in the writing program at Syracuse University.

No Risk Refused
Cara Summers

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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To my sons, Kevin, Brian and Brendan.

As you’ve grown into fine young men, I’ve seen

you do everything you can to protect and cherish

the ones you love. In short, you inspire my heroes.

Thanks! I love all three of you.

And special thanks to the best editor in the world—Brenda

Chin. You have once more pulled one of

my stories out of the darkness and into the light.

Prologue

Glen Loch, NY

Summer 1812

THUNDER CRASHED AND lightning ripped through the sky while rain lashed at the stone arch over Eleanor Campbell MacPherson’s head.

Perfect, she thought.

It was one of her dreams that had awakened her. She’d heard Angus’s voice again. The sound of the wind had drawn her out onto her balcony and when she’d seen the clouds roll in over the lake, blacking out the stars, she’d known it was time to begin her mission. To right a wrong that she’d done so many years before.

Slipping out of the castle, she’d raced the rain to the stone arch and reached it just as the skies opened. The dreams that had been recurring since her husband’s death had centered here in the place that had played such a powerful role in her life and in Angus’s.

Her sons and daughters-in-law, who loved her dearly, would not be happy that she regularly sneaked out of the castle in the dead of night. Even less happy that she was here in the stone arch on a night like this. And she doubted they would approve of her plan.

So she would make sure that they didn’t know.

All her life, she’d been good at keeping secrets. But since the death of her husband a year ago, one of those secrets had begun to weigh on her. And the dreams had begun. Angus was sending them to her. He’d known her so well, and he’d known that the Stuart sapphires she’d carried with her to the New World had troubled her conscience.

Thunder roared and lightning flashed so bright and fierce that for an instant, Eleanor saw everything clearly—the garden, the elegant facade of Castle MacPherson, the cliffs beyond and the roiling waters of the black lake below.

Home, she thought. Whatever mistakes she may have made, coming here with Angus Daniel MacPherson fifty years ago was not one of them. She’d turned her back on her home in the highlands of Scotland, the pride and expectations of her family, and a man who’d claimed to love her very much. And she’d never looked back.

Not that Angus had given her any choice.

The memory made her smile and set her mind drifting back to that night in Scotland so long ago, when he’d asked her to run away with him to the New World. She’d been shocked at the idea, thrilled and frightened at the same time. They’d been standing beneath a stone arch in the gardens of her family’s home. Its location in an isolated part of the garden made it a perfect place for them to meet in secret.

And secrecy was essential. She shouldn’t have even talked to him. Even though their families’ lands shared a common border, the MacPhersons and the Campbells had been blood enemies for years.

And she’d been promised to another man.

But once Angus had kissed her beneath the stone arch he’d completely captured her heart. Her mother and older sisters had warned her about the legend surrounding the stones. They carried a power from ancient times, and the man you kissed beneath that arch would be your true love forever.

And she hadn’t just kissed Angus once. Each time she’d met with him she’d kissed him again and again. And each time she’d promised herself it would be the last time.

The night of Angus’s proposal, her family had thrown a ball to formalize her upcoming wedding to her betrothed. She was wearing her future husband’s gift to her, the legendary sapphire earrings and necklace that had been bequeathed to his family for service to the Scottish court during the reign of Mary Stuart. The queen had worn them at her coronation, so they were priceless. He’d insisted she wear them tonight as proof of his love for her and as a symbol of the union of their two families.

When she’d slipped away from the ball to meet Angus, she’d planned to say goodbye.

She’d been repeating the little speech to herself all day. She was betrothed to another man, she couldn’t go back on her word, and their situation was impossible. There was no way that their families would allow them to marry. In fact, her father would probably inflict bodily harm on Angus.

Eleanor slipped her hand into her pocket and closed her fingers around the leather pouches where she kept the sapphires. The only time she’d worn them was for her wedding portrait that hung in the main parlor of the castle. The jewels always reminded her of the man she’d betrayed and left behind. Everyone had always believed that they were her dowry, and she’d kept silent all of these years.

If only she’d left the necklace and earrings behind with the man who’d given them to her. At least their families would have had the sapphires. But there’d been no time. Angus, impatient, impetuous, irresistible, hadn’t allowed her any. And when she’d initially refused to go with him that night, he hadn’t taken no for an answer. He’d simply carried her away.

Thank God.

Her heart tightened as she thought of how he’d completely swept her up in his belief in their future.

Lightning flashed again, illuminating the visual reality of that belief. Angus had promised to build a castle and gardens for her in a setting that would remind her of all that she was leaving behind in Scotland. He’d kept his word. The lovely lakes and mountains in the Adirondack region had kept her from getting too homesick during those early years. He’d kept his promise to build a replica of the stone arch in her family’s garden. He’d even brought some stones from the original, and when it was complete she’d stood with him here just as she’d stood with him beneath the one in Scotland.

That was when the legend of Castle MacPherson’s stone arch had begun. Over the years she’d lost count of the number of times Angus had told and retold the story of how she’d captivated him, heart and mind, that first time they’d kissed beneath the stone arch in her family’s garden. And the story had spread, being told and retold throughout the community. Her children had believed in it and they’d each married their mates right here.

The little pain around her heart increased. In the year since he’d passed she’d missed him so much. But she always sensed his presence when she stood here in the place where they’d laughed and loved and dreamed together so many times.

And the stones had played a part in the dream she was sure that Angus was sending her. In them, she always saw the same thing. A young woman with reddish curls dropping to her knees at the side of the arch and lifting a leather pouch out of a pile of loose stones. Inside, the young woman always found one of the earrings. Not the pair or the necklace.

Eleanor tightened her fingers around the pouch she held in her pocket. As she did, she heard Angus’s voice in her ear, just as clearly as she heard it in her dreams.

“Her name is Adair. She believes in the power of the stones enough to bury her own dreams and fantasies beneath them. You must hide one of the earrings in the stone arch for her to find. When she finds it, the Stuart Sapphires will begin to find their way home. You can finally rest easy. Trust me, Ellie—just as you did on the night we ran away.”

The rain had stopped, and a few stars had reappeared in the sky. With Angus’s words still in her mind, Eleanor stepped out of the arch and began to work some of the stones loose. And when the earring was safely buried and she returned to the castle, she slept peacefully.

1

Glen Loch, NY

Summer 2012

AN AFFAIR TO remember.

That had been the guarantee that Adair MacPherson had given to Rexie Maitland and her parents when they’d signed the contract to hold their daughter’s wedding and reception at Castle MacPherson.

And she intended to deliver. She had to. There were already two big X marks in the failure column of her life. She didn’t need a third one.

Adair pressed a firm hand to the nerves jittering in her stomach. The first step on her way to her goal, the wedding rehearsal scheduled for today, had gotten off to a rocky start. The high-strung bride had gone into a panic attack when the groom-to-be hadn’t arrived on time. But Adair’s aunt and business partner, Viola MacPherson, had warded off a full meltdown with a cup of herb tea. And the tardy Lawrence Banes, a suave, sort of George Clooney look-alike with a good fifteen years on the bride, had finally arrived, full of apologies.

Pulling off the Maitland/Banes wedding on Saturday was crucial to the launch of her new business plan, one that would establish the reputation of Castle MacPherson as a premier wedding destination in the heart of New York’s Adirondacks. Adair swept her gaze around the garden.

The setting was perfect. The gray stone castle she and her sisters had grown up in stood on a rocky promontory at the far eastern end of Glen Loch Lake. Three stories high and rectangular in shape, it sat tucked between two mountains, boasted spectacular views, and its gardens, thanks to her Aunt Vi, had graced the pages of several gardening magazines.

The Maitland/Banes wedding would take place beneath the stone arch her several-times-great-grandfather Angus One had built for the stolen bride he’d brought here from Scotland. Now the tardy Mr. Banes was standing beneath it flanked by the minister and his best man. The maid of honor and the flower girl had lined up just behind the arbor that marked the entrance to the gardens. The mother of the bride, Bunny Maitland, had taken her seat in the first row of chairs, and just in front of the stone arch, Aunt Vi sat, her bow poised over her cello, ready to play on signal.

Everything was perfect, except that the bride-to-be was holding Adair’s hand in a death grip.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Rexie whispered.

Ignoring her plummeting stomach, Adair took a deep breath and spoke in her calmest voice. “This is only a rehearsal. You have to save those nerves for Saturday.”

“I know.” Rexie, a pretty twenty-two-year-old blonde and heir to the Maitland fortune, smiled tremulously. “I can’t seem to help it. I need to know that I’m doing the right thing. I have to know that the legend will work.”

“It will.” The power of the legend and the stones was the one thing in her life that she still had absolute faith in. She might be a bit shaky on her ability to keep this wedding on track, but she had no doubt that the stone arch her ancestor Angus One had built for Eleanor Campbell MacPherson had the power to bring true loves together.

This was the young woman’s second go at matrimony. A little over a year ago, her first husband had left her to return to his family’s horse farm in Montana. Then Rexie had met Lawrence and six months ago, after reading an article on the history of the MacPhersons and the legend in the New York Times, she’d contacted Viola to ask about scheduling her ceremony and reception at the castle because she wanted a guarantee of success this time around.

The Times article had created quite a buzz because it had dug up all the rumors that had circulated over the years about the missing sapphires that Eleanor MacPherson had worn in her wedding portrait. The writer had even reprinted an image of Mary Stuart wearing a similar necklace and earrings at her coronation and posed the theory that Eleanor’s dowry of jewels had been given to her by the Queen of Scots.

Adair could have kissed the Times writer for stirring everything up and giving her the idea for a new business plan.

She took Rexie’s other hand in hers. “You are not going to fail this time.”

That was the mantra Adair recited to herself each morning. Not that she’d ever failed at marriage—she hadn’t had the chance. Six months ago she’d come home to Aunt Vi and the castle to lick her wounds, and they were still fresh. The five-year plan she’d so carefully crafted when she’d finished her MBA had gone south. One day she’d been on the fast track, and the next, the company she’d worked for had downsized and derailed her. Her pink slip had been quickly followed by an email from her boyfriend, Baxter DuBois, terminating their personal relationship, as well.

That’s when she’d moved back to the castle. Now with her aunt’s help and the power of Angus One’s stone arch, she was determined to turn her family home into the wedding destination spot in upstate New York.

And the success of Rexie’s wedding was key. Mr. and Mrs. Winston Maitland III resided on Long Island but also owned homes in Boca Raton, Florida, and Vail, Colorado. They had the kind of social contacts that could make the reputation of Castle MacPherson.

Or break it.

“I’ve seen proof of the stones’ power in my own father’s life,” Adair said. “He’s kissed two women beneath the stone arch, and if he were here, he’d tell you it was the stones that gave him two chances of finding his true loves. He considers himself a very fortunate man.”

Adair held back a little on the details. Her father had taken the loss of her mother so hard that even after he fell in love with Professor Beth Sutherland, it had been a dozen years before he married her. But seven years ago she and her sisters, along with Beth’s three triplet sons, had stood beneath the arch while her father, A.D., and Beth had exchanged vows.

“And your father’s happy?” Rexie asked.

“Yes. There’s real power in the stones. When we were growing up, my sisters and I believed in it so much that we used to write down our dreams and goals and bury them in a metal box beneath some of the loose stones. It was my mother’s old jewelry box so it had three different compartments and we all used different colors of paper.”

She’d nearly forgotten about that box, Adair realized. On the night of her father’s wedding, she’d even written down a particularly erotic fantasy involving Cam Sutherland and buried that, too. She hadn’t thought of it in years. And she hadn’t seen Cam or his brothers since the wedding. They’d been finishing college that year and each had been focused on career plans that kept them very busy. Last she’d heard, Cam was working overseas for the CIA. For an instant his image flashed brightly into her mind and she could see him just as he’d looked that day—the dark, unruly hair, the blue eyes that had always held a dare.

And Cam Sutherland was the last thing she needed to be thinking about right now. If she didn’t get this wedding rehearsal on track, an “affair to remember” was going to take on a whole new, horrible meaning.

She focused on the hint of panic in Rexie’s eyes. And a solution suddenly occurred to her. “Look, why don’t we tap into the power of the legend right now?”

“How?”

“This is just a rehearsal and you won’t actually say your vows, but why don’t you kiss Lawrence? If you do that today while you’re beneath the stone arch, then you should be all set. In the legend, it’s the kiss that does the trick.”

“Really?” Rexie shifted her gaze to where her groom-to-be waited. He was on his cell phone.

“It’s guaranteed,” Adair assured her. “Why don’t we start? Everyone is in place.”

“Except for my father,” Rexie said, her lip trembling. “He’s taking another call on his cell.”

“Mr. Maitland?” Adair spoke in a low tone, but she kept Rexie’s hand firmly gripped in hers.

The bride-to-be’s father held up one finger, but he never stopped talking into his phone. Winston Maitland, a tall stocky man with thinning gray hair, had pretty much had his cell glued to his ear since he’d arrived. So had the groom-to-be for that matter. The jerks. Adair wanted to shake both of them.

That was when she heard it. Just the whisper of thunder. Damn. Keeping Rexie’s hand in a death grip, she angled her head just enough to catch sight of a cluster of dark clouds at the far end of the lake.

A quick glance around told her that so far she was the only one who’d noticed. The sky overhead was bright blue, the garden bathed in sunlight. She sent up a quick prayer that the storm would stay put.

Alba, the white whippet mix her aunt Vi had recently brought home from a shelter, rose from where she’d plopped herself a few feet away on a patch of sun-drenched grass. She shot a look out over the lake, and whined. Adair followed the direction of the dog’s gaze and so did Rexie. The clouds were rolling closer.

“Look. It’s going to rain,” Rexie said. “That’s not a good sign. Maybe we should postpone this.”

Adair tightened her grip on Rexie’s hand. “No. It’s still quite a ways off. We just have to get started.”

Alba whined again, then made a beeline in the direction of the castle, the bell around her neck emphasizing her departure.

Not a good sign.

Though Alba was deaf, her other senses were spot-on, and Adair was willing to bet she could sense the approaching storm. So could the mother of the bride, Bunny Maitland, who sent her a worried look.

Adair tried for a serene smile. The clouds were still a good distance away, she assured herself. Time enough to panic once the lightning started. She waved to get her aunt’s attention.

Viola MacPherson had moved to the castle after Adair’s mom, Marianne, had died. She’d been four, her sisters three and one. Their father had buried himself in his painting, so it was their aunt who’d raised them. She’d given up her job at the nearby college and devoted her life to creating a home for them while providing a haven where their father could continue with his landscape painting.

Now in her late fifties, Viola looked and projected the energy of a much younger woman. Adair had inherited her aunt’s tiny stature as well as the curse of naturally curly red hair. Viola’s cascade of ringlets was gray now, and she managed them by pulling them back from her face. She favored long skirts or wide-leg pants and tunics that went with her gypsy look.

At a signal from Adair, Vi began to play Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy.”

Thunder sounded faintly in the distance.

Refusing to look out over the lake again, Adair directed the flower girl to start down the short path that led from the rose garden to the stone arch. When the little girl was halfway there, Adair gestured to the maid of honor.

“Daddy’s still on his phone,” Rexie whispered.

“Mr. Maitland.” Adair spoke in a low tone.

Frowning at Adair, the man stuffed his cell in a pocket and moved to his daughter’s side. “That was an important call.”

Adair smiled at him. “And this is a very important moment for your daughter. Go.”

Thunder rumbled—closer this time.

Rexie and her father were halfway to the minister when the dark clouds settled like a lid over the garden with such speed and finality she wondered they hadn’t heard a loud clang.

Lightning flashed behind her just as Rexie and her dad made it to the shelter of the stone arch. Adair hurried up the path, grabbing Bunny’s arm on the way. Together they power-walked to join the rest of the wedding party.

Cello in hand, Aunt Vi was the last to make it before the next crack of thunder sounded. Then for a moment, no one spoke as they huddled shoulder to shoulder and watched nature put on a powerful show. Lightning crisscrossed the sky at times so bright Adair found herself blinking. The intermittent explosions of thunder made her wonder if this was what it might be like to be trapped in a bunker during an attack.

And her mind flashed back to the night of her father’s wedding. There’d been a storm like this that night, also. The Sutherland boys, Reid, Cam and Duncan, had flown in just for the wedding and then gone back to their colleges right after the ceremony. She and her sisters hadn’t seen them since that long-ago summer when the boys’ mother, Beth, had been a visiting professor at nearby Huntleigh College and she’d gotten her father’s permission to use the library at the castle for the research she was doing for a historical novel she was writing on the MacPherson clan.

That was the summer when Adair’s fascination with Cam had begun. Because she’d hated him. He’d been a relentless tease, always pulling her curls and calling her “Princess” because she lived in a “castle.” And he’d constantly nagged her to try things she’d never tried before—like climbing over the stone arch.

There were days during that summer when she’d wanted to strangle him.

But strangling hadn’t been on her mind the night of her father’s wedding to Beth Sutherland. Because in the twelve years that had passed, the Sutherlands had changed. Drastically. From annoying, know-it-all ten-year-olds to attractive young men.

What hadn’t changed had been her fascination with Cam. It had flared immediately from the instant he’d arrived at the castle that day.

They weren’t kids on a playdate any more. And while their parents had been pledging their vows beneath the stone arch, her eyes had locked on his, and she’d wanted him in a way that she’d never wanted anyone—or anything. It had thrilled her, terrified her. And it had fueled the fantasy that she’d committed to paper and put into the special metal box that she and her sisters had hidden away in the stone arch.

Lightning flashed again and the thunder roared, instantaneous and deafening, refocusing her thoughts on the present.

Vi whispered in her ear. “This isn’t good.”

Adair had to agree with her aunt. In all her years growing up at the castle, she’d never seen a storm like this one. And it had to happen the day of Rexie Maitland’s wedding rehearsal.

They were so tightly packed in the space that Adair had to crane her neck to meet Rexie’s eyes. Panic was what she saw and she felt an answering surge in herself. Pushing it down, she kept her voice calm and spaced her words to fit in between the claps of thunder. “We should go forward with the rehearsal.”

Not sure how much Rexie heard in the cacophony of sound bombarding them, Adair pursed her lips and pantomimed a kiss. Then she held her breath, willing Rexie to kiss Lawrence and seal the deal. Not for the first time, she wished she had at least a smidgen of the power Macbeth’s witches had.

Thunder cracked so loud Adair was certain the rocks beneath her feet moved. Aunt Vi grabbed her hand and held on hard. Adair kept her gaze on Rexie, her willpower on at full throttle.

Finally, Rexie turned to Lawrence and put her hands on his shoulders to get his attention. A second later, he began to lower his head.

Lightning flashed, so close this time that Adair could smell it, and the ground beneath them shook—enough to tear Rexie out of Lawrence’s arms just before their lips met and thrust her backward into the minister. Adair heard stones tumble from the front of the arch before thunder deafened her.

When the earth stilled again, Adair found herself held tightly in her aunt Vi’s arms, a cello pressed hard against her thigh. Rexie was in her mother’s arms. Not good. Lawrence and Winston had their heads close. The maid of honor had picked up the flower girl and the best man had slumped onto a ledge, his face sheet-white.

When the storm had moved off so that conversation was a possibility, everyone began to talk at once, their voices pitched almost as low as the now-fading thunder. But the main consensus was that the stone arch they were standing under had just been struck by lightning.

Vi was looking at the stones that formed the arch over their heads. “We’re lucky they held, but we should have someone check them.”

Adair figured checking the stone arch was the least of her problems. The biggest one was headed toward her, elbowing her way through the group. When Rexie reached her, she said, “I’m calling off the wedding.” Then she burst into tears.

2

AN HOUR LATER, Adair stepped out of her room and went in search of her aunt. After finally seeing the Maitlands off, she’d spent some time in the shower replaying everything that had happened in her mind, going over the should-have-saids and could-have-dones. Her ex-boyfriend Bax had always criticized her for trying to second-guess herself.

Maybe he’d been right. In the downsizing at her former company, he’d kept his job. She hadn’t.

Pushing that thought out of her mind, she went back to her replay. The shouting match that had occurred after the lightning strike and Rexie’s hysterical announcement had rivaled the storm for intensity. Mr. Maitland had claimed the lightning strike was a sign they should change the venue for the ceremony back to Long Island, which had triggered a fresh eruption of tears from the bride and a yelling match between her parents. Using the noise as a cover, she’d told the groom that he’d better soothe his bride-to-be.

The fact that she’d had to jump-start him had bothered her. If he hadn’t been late for the rehearsal, the storm and the lightning strike wouldn’t have been an issue. But he’d said something to Rexie that had calmed her while she concentrated on the parents.

Before they’d driven away, Rexie had agreed to postpone her decision to cancel the wedding. The men had departed for Long Island but Adair had booked Rexie and Bunny into the Eagle’s Nest, a bed-and-breakfast in the nearby village of Glen Loch, so they could return to the castle in the morning when their nerves had settled to give her their decision. The one thing that Rexie had remained firm on was that if the wedding was going forward, it would be held at Castle MacPherson.

Which was exactly what she wanted, too. Wasn’t it?

And why was that even a question she was thinking about? Of course she wanted the wedding to go forward. What kind of a businesswoman was she? Good ones didn’t sabotage their own business plans.

She just had to keep her focus. But it was hard to ignore that lightning strike, or the fact that it had occurred at the exact moment when Lawrence was about to kiss Rexie and seal the deal.

The moment she stepped out onto the veranda that ran along the back of the house and spotted Vi sitting at a table with an opened bottle of wine and two glasses, some of her tension eased. It didn’t surprise her that her aunt had chosen this place to wait for her. The back of the castle, with its flagstone terraces dropping in levels to the lake, had always been one of Adair’s favorite spots. She noted that the water was calm and stunningly blue, its surface a perfect reflection of the now-cloudless sky overhead. The only reminder of the violent storm was a fading rainbow.

Alba lay sprawled nearby on the flagstones, totally exhausted by the day. Adair could certainly sympathize with the feeling, but her own day had a ways to go. There was a decision to be made.

She joined her aunt and accepted the glass of wine.

Vi clinked her glass to Adair’s. “To a job well done.”

“I haven’t done anything yet.”

Vi sampled the wine. “You’ve weathered a lightning strike, you’ve calmed down a very upset bride and her parents. And you’ll see to it that more rational minds will prevail in the morning.”

“And what if I’m wrong?”

“Wrong in what way?”

Setting her wine down, Adair reached out and took one of her aunt’s hands. “You know how much I want this wedding to take place on Saturday.”

Vi brought her other hand to cover her niece’s in a gesture that was achingly familiar to Adair.

“Ever since you were a child, whenever you’ve set yourself a goal you’ve achieved it. Not only that, you egged your younger sisters into setting their own goals. Look where they are right now. Piper is working for a famous defense attorney in D.C., and Nell is touring the country on a grant that allows her to teach creative writing classes in disadvantaged schools and at the same time, promote her first children’s story.”

Adair shook her head. “I’m not doing that well in the goal achievement game anymore.”

“Why on earth would you think that?”

“Because the first curveball that life threw at me …” She paused and waved her free hand. “I ran away and came back here. I’m not proud of that.”

Vi studied her for a moment. “You’re not your father, Adair. If that’s what you’re worried about.”

Perhaps it was, Adair thought. Her aunt had always been able to hit the nail on the head. Perhaps that fear was at the heart of the gnawing anxiety she’d felt ever since she’d left Chicago.

“When your mother, Marianne, died, he did run,” Vi said. “He hid for years, burying himself in his art and his teaching at the college.”

“I’ve never understood him. He met Beth Sutherland when I was nine, the summer that she did her research in the library and we had all those long afternoon playdates with the Sutherland boys. Nell saw Dad kiss her once beneath the stones. We thought they might get married and that we’d all become a family. But then she went back to Chicago and he went back to his painting and we didn’t see any of them again until the wedding seven years ago. And Beth and Dad are so happy now, traveling the world, each pursuing their dreams. Why did they wait?”

“Because they needed to. They had young children to think about, careers to pursue. She came here to do her research shortly after her husband had been found guilty of fraud and sent to prison. His family was wealthy and they tried to sue for custody. She felt that building her career was essential to holding on to her sons. And your father always had his art to return to. They waited for a better time. That’s where you’re different, Adair. You don’t wait for anything.”

Adair blinked. “I don’t?”

Vi laughed. “Good Lord, I can barely keep up with you. You didn’t even have your bags all unpacked when that feature writer from the Times visited us for an interview. I could almost see the lightbulb go on over your head. The very next day you were plotting out a business plan for the castle. And when the article stirred up interest in the legend and Eleanor’s missing sapphires, you had brochures printed to hand out to the tourists who started arriving on the weekends.”

Adair shrugged. “I just capitalized on the buzz the rumors of a missing and possibly priceless collection of gems created. They’ll die down again.”

“The point I’m making is that you didn’t hesitate to capitalize on that buzz to promote the legend surrounding the stones. I’ve never known you to hide, Adair. And while you were showering and changing, I’m betting you marshaled together a strategy for handling Bunny and Rexie tomorrow morning.”

Adair took a sip of her wine. “I think I’ve got that covered. Sure, lightning struck during the rehearsal, but did it do any permanent damage? No. The stone arch is still there. Indestructible. So it still has the power to unite Rexie with the love of her life on Saturday. And that marriage will be just as indestructible.”

“Very nice argument.”

“Yeah. If Lawrence Banes is the love of her life,” Adair said. “He was late to the rehearsal, and it was his schedule that had required it to take place two days before the wedding. Plus, he was texting on his cell instead of trying to support Rexie when she became hysterical after the lightning strike.”

Vi merely met her eyes, saying nothing. It was a ploy that her aunt had used very successfully when she and her sisters had been trying to explain some of the mischief they’d gotten into.

“Okay, maybe he’s just a jerk,” she conceded. “A jerk she’s in love with.”

“Or maybe he’s just as nervous as the bride. When you first explained your business plan to me you defined our role pretty clearly.”

Adair raised a hand, palm out. “Right. We’re not matchmakers or relationship counselors. Our job is to provide the perfect wedding and let the stone arch do its work.”

She rose then and walked to the low stone wall that bordered the veranda. Beyond the gardens she could see the curve of the stone arch. Vi joined her and put an arm around her shoulder. “But? I hear a but in there.”

“I can’t help thinking that’s what the lightning strike was about. I suggested to Rexie that she kiss Lawrence today during the rehearsal to seal the deal. That way she could walk down the aisle on Saturday knowing that she was marrying her true love. But the lightning prevented the kiss. Maybe the power of the stones is working against this wedding.”

Even as she said the words, an image from an old movie filled her mind—a bride running down the aisle. Quickly, she shoved it aside. That kind of thing didn’t happen in real life. Did it? “We really need to pull off this wedding, Aunt Vi.”

Vi gave her a hug. “Then you’re going to find a way to do it. Why don’t you go down to the arch now and think about it while I get started on dinner. Use the power.”

Shoving her hands in her pockets, Adair moved around the veranda’s low wall and started down one of the paths. Gardening wasn’t her thing. She couldn’t even begin to name the plants that bloomed everywhere in profusion.

Except for the roses. And she’d recognized the lilacs and violets earlier in the spring. Gardening was one of her aunt Vi’s talents. Angus One had built the original garden for Eleanor but it had been well tended by their descendants. In fact, all the MacPhersons who’d been born and raised here at the castle had benefitted from a very rich gene pool. Some of them had turned to education. It was one of her great-great-uncles who’d been a cofounder of the nearby Huntleigh College. There were three paintings in the castle that bore Eleanor’s signature. And Angus One was credited with the design of the castle. And he had to have had some serious engineering skills to have pulled off the construction of the stone arch.

Stepping out of the gardens, she crossed the grass verge until she reached the row of chairs they’d placed in front of the stones for the rehearsal. The arch itself was ten feet tall at its center, ten feet long and eight feet wide. The summer the Sutherland triplets had played here, they’d measured it off to the inch.

The boys had been ten that year, she’d been nine and her sisters eight and six. They’d been fascinated by the Sutherlands. Cam in particular had intrigued her. They’d taken turns deciding the games they would play on those long afternoons. And the ones Cam chose had been her favorites. There was always a risk involved, something that made her heart race faster.

His favorite game had been “pirate and treasure.” More than once he’d chosen her as his partner, and together they’d climbed up the cliff face to the west of the castle. Adair’s heart raced just thinking about it. Aunt Vi and her father had always forbidden them to go to the cliffs. But they could hardly admit that to the Sutherlands.

When she realized she was smiling, Adair made herself stop. She hadn’t come here to the stone arch to think about Cam Sutherland. She’d managed not to think about him for years. She hadn’t even seen him since that night after their parents’ wedding, when she and her sisters had come out here with a bottle of champagne to write out their secret fantasies about their ideal fantasy lovers.

She’d written her fantasy about Cam. She hadn’t been able to get him out of her head from the instant her eyes had met his during the ceremony. In that moment of eye contact only, no one else had existed. The intensity of the awareness she’d felt, the depth of it, had been something she’d never experienced before. When he’d asked her to dance later, she’d seen the challenge in his eyes. He’d known the effect he was having on her. But she’d refused the dance, preferring the safety she’d felt in his brother Reid’s arms.

It was only later, with a little help from the champagne, that she’d given full flight to her desire and her fantasy. Just thinking about it made her knees feel so weak that she sank onto the narrow ledge that ran along the side of the arch. Cam spelled trouble for her. And she didn’t kid herself. She’d increased the problem exponentially when she’d written her fantasy down on paper and buried it in the arch.

The whole thing had been her idea, and she’d talked her sisters into doing the same thing. Adair the great planner. In the back of her mind she’d had some idea that if she wrote a fantasy about Reid or Duncan, she could negate what she was feeling for Cam.

Hadn’t worked out. The instant her pen had struck paper, it had all been about Cam and no one but Cam.

Calm down. Adair forced herself to breathe in, breathe out.

You’ve avoided him for years. His job at the CIA has kept him overseas. There’s nothing to worry about.

Except the power of the stones.

And there might be a way to lessen that….

Dropping to her knees, Adair traced her fingers along the base of the arch, trying to find the loose stones that she and her sisters had discovered when they were children. Behind them there was a niche just big enough to hold the metal box they’d used for years. Any fantasy that she’d put into the box could be taken out. Then she just might have less to worry about.

None of the stones were loose.

That couldn’t be. Lowering herself to her stomach, Adair squinted at the stones as she ran her hands along them again. There wasn’t even a crack she could get a finger into.

Had the lightning shifted things?

The sound of Alba’s bell had her scrambling to her feet. Once the dog reached the arch, she wandered around to the side and started pawing at some stones. Adair spotted her aunt as she stepped out of the gardens.

“Find any damage?” Vi called.

“Seems pretty solid.” Adair brushed her hands off on her slacks. And she was going to put that box and the fantasies it contained out of her mind. Why on earth was she obsessing about Cam Sutherland all of a sudden? Avoidance had worked so far, and there wasn’t any reason to think that it wouldn’t continue to work.

Unless you don’t want it to….

Pushing the thought firmly away, Adair stepped out of the stone arch. “I have an idea about how to avoid the runaway bride disaster.”

Vi smiled at her. “I’m all ears.”

“You distract Bunny tomorrow and give me some time alone with Rexie. Maybe she’ll tell me what’s bothering her. I’d like to know what really happened with her first husband that’s making her so nervous about taking a second chance.”

Vi smiled. “I can handle Bunny. She’s very interested in getting the recipe for the scones I served with her herb tea.”

“You never give that recipe out.”

“I won’t this time either, but I have several older versions of it that I can bear to part with.”

Alba’s bell jingled again, and she suddenly appeared around the side of the arch with something in her mouth. The dog dropped what looked like a leather pouch on the ground at their feet.

She and Vi dropped to their knees together. Then Adair picked up the pouch. It was folded like an envelope with another pouch inside of it and another pouch in side of that. “Chinese boxes,” Adair murmured.

But when she opened the last one, all she could do was stare. Inside lay a sapphire earring set in gold. The gem was the size of her thumbnail and it dangled from a link of gold chain.

Vi caught her breath. “Oh, my.”

Oh, my, indeed. Adair recognized it right away. Eleanor Campbell MacPherson was wearing it in the portrait that hung in the main parlor. And Mary Stuart might very well have worn it on the day she was crowned.

But Eleanor’s dowry had been missing for years. The theory was that one of the Anguses had sold it long ago.

With the earring still lying in the palm of her hand, she stood and walked around to the side of the stone arch where Alba had been digging. Sure enough, there was a pile of stones that looked as if they’d shaken loose during the storm.

“Who on earth put this here and why?” Adair breathed.

Alba began to bark. When Adair glanced at her, she saw that the dog wasn’t looking at the loose stones but at the wooded hill that sloped sharply upward beyond the stone arch. Alba continued to bark as she raced to the hedge that separated the gardens from the trees. Adair ran her gaze up the hill, trying to see what was upsetting the dog, but she saw nothing.

“There’s something up there she doesn’t like,” Vi said as she moved past Adair to take the dog’s collar and pat her head.

Even as the dog quieted, Adair scanned the hill again and still saw nothing.

“We’d better get that earring inside and then we’ll have to call your father and let him know,” Vi said.

Adair stared down at the earring and as she did, it seemed to glow. She could have sworn that she felt a warmth in her hands. After all these years, a part of Eleanor’s dowry had shown up. Why now, she couldn’t help but wonder. And why had it been hidden away in the stone arch?

3

Received a call from Mom and A.D. Need our help. Conference call with all three of us at five-thirty?

CAM SUTHERLAND READ the short text from his brother Reid twice. Some things never changed. In spite of the fact that he and his brothers were triplets, there’d always been a pecking order. From the time they were little, if his mom needed something she’d always called on Reid, the oldest. Even now, she used him as her main contact person, and it was his job to relay the information and/or request.

Because his younger brother Duncan had always been studious and a bit shy, he’d always seemed to receive extra attention, too. Not that his mom had a lot to spread around. Her work teaching and her research had always absorbed her. “Absentminded professor” might have been a term coined to describe her. But after their father had been sent to prison, Beth Sutherland’s academic success and her publications had been key to keeping custody of her sons. So from the age of ten, they’d all pitched in.

And they’d fallen into roles. Reid had become the leader and organizer, Duncan had offered ideas and analysis, and it had usually fallen on Cam to carry out the missions. Not that he’d complained. He’d always preferred action over giving advice or orders.

His mother didn’t turn to them very often anymore, but he had no doubt that he would probably get the assignment. His older brother’s new duties in the Secret Service serving on the Vice President’s security detail were keeping Reid very busy, and the last time he’d talked to Duncan, who worked as a profiler in the Behavioral Sciences division of the FBI, he’d been consulting on a case in Montana.

Then with a frown Cam read the text again. His mom and A. D. MacPherson were in Scotland, and if they’d taken the time to call, his best guess was that something was going on at the castle. From what he’d last heard, Viola MacPherson lived alone there now. The image of a tiny, energetic woman popped into his mind. He hadn’t forgotten her scones or her brownies. Except for Christmas and birthday cards, he hadn’t seen Aunt Vi or visited the castle since his mother had married the successful landscape painter seven years ago. That had been his senior year in college and he’d joined the CIA right away. For five years he’d worked a variety of covert operations overseas. He’d enjoyed the travel and the challenge of the assignments, but when an opportunity had presented itself to transfer to the Domestic Operations section in D.C., he’d been ready for a change. He still worked in the field but his assignments tended to be of shorter duration, and as a side benefit he got to work for an old and dear friend.

The last he’d heard, the MacPherson sisters had been as busy as he, his brothers and their parents, and were pursuing career goals. Not that he knew what they were doing exactly. He’d avoided thinking about them for years.

Especially Adair.

He strode to the window of his office, but it wasn’t the scenery that he saw. It was Adair MacPherson’s face. The image of her standing beneath that stone arch during his mother’s wedding to A. D. MacPherson had been popping into his mind lately. It had been a late-fall wedding. He and his brothers had been tied up in classes so they’d booked flights that arrived on the morning of the ceremony and left that evening.

The picture he’d carried in his mind before that had been of a little girl with red curls and freckles, a face that had frowned easily when he’d teased her, and a temper that he’d enjoyed igniting. Calling her “Princess” usually succeeded in eliciting both responses. But she had a smile that he’d wanted to trigger almost as much as the frown.

What he’d enjoyed most about her during those long summer afternoons when they’d played together was the fact that she was willing to try anything. Eager, in fact. She’d been fun—for a girl.

But what he’d felt at his mother’s wedding had been something else. And that was the image that still lingered in his mind. Her red-gold curls were tied back with a green ribbon. He’d wanted to run his hands through those curls. At nine, her body had been sturdy and athletic. At twenty, it had been slim as a wand, and he’d wanted to explore every single inch of it. Desire was far too tame a word for what he’d felt. But it was her eyes that had nearly finished him off that day. He had no clear idea of how long he had looked into them. But he’d never forget the color—a pale and misty green that he could have sworn he was drowning in.

Cam drew in a deep breath and let it out. He’d wanted her that day in a way he’d never wanted anyone or anything before. In a way he’d never wanted anyone since. And he’d been rash enough to ask her to dance. If she’d agreed, if he’d held her in his arms, he still wasn’t sure what would have happened. Perhaps she’d had some idea of the possible consequences because she’d turned him down flat.

He wasn’t sure why she was popping into his mind more frequently lately. Perhaps because he was back in the States. Perhaps because she’d never really left his mind. Perhaps because it was only possible to avoid something for so long and then …

“Got a minute, Sutherland?”

Cam turned as his boss walked into the room. Seven years ago Daryl Garnett had recruited him to work for the CIA. Cam had trained under the man at the farm and Daryl had been one of his mentors ever since, and he’d invited Cam to join the Domestic Operations section he headed up in D.C.

“I think I just got something on my old nemesis.” Daryl moved around Cam’s desk and taped two photos on the whiteboard that covered nearly one wall. “Meet Gianni Scalzo.”

Cam turned to study the photos. He’d seen one of them before because Daryl carried a smaller version in his wallet, the way a man might carry a photo of his family. But Gianni Scalzo wasn’t family. He was a con man extraordinaire who’d put a bullet in Daryl’s knee and limited his career as a covert field operative.

Since then, Daryl had been steadily working his way up in the training and management side of the Agency, but he’d made a hobby out of tracking Scalzo down.

In the photo that Cam had seen before, Scalzo had long, curly, shoulder-length hair—Mel Gibson in the first Lethal Weapon. In shorts and sunglasses, he looked very much at home on the prow of a sailboat. The man standing next to him in the picture was shorter, less athletic in build, the kind of man that you wouldn’t notice if you passed him on the street. Interpol believed he was Scalzo’s partner. Daryl agreed. Both men were masters at disguise, but the partner had always stayed in the shadows.

The man in the second photo was older. His short dark hair boasted just a sprinkle of gray and he had a well-trimmed mustache and goatee. Not Mel Gibson but he still had a sort of middle-aged movie star quality. Next to him stood a pretty young blonde.

“What do you think?” Daryl asked.

“It’s a difficult call. The more important question is what do you think? You’re the one who met him in person.”

“Allowing for the passage of time, I’m betting they’re one and the same,” Daryl said. “I felt it as soon as I saw the picture. I had one of our techs run a facial analysis of the two photos.”

Cam moved closer to study the two images more closely. “What were the results?”

“Inconclusive.” A tall lanky man in his mid-fifties, Daryl stood shoulder to shoulder with Cam at the whiteboard. “Right now, I’m having someone age the photo of Scalzo on the sailboat.”

“How long have you been looking for Scalzo now?” Cam asked.

Daryl tapped the leg that had retired him from the field. “Fifteen years, three months and nine days.”

“The age difference is about right. Who tipped you off to take a look at the guy?” Cam asked.

“Ben Slack contacted me an hour ago and I asked him to email me the photo,” Daryl said. “He was in your class at the farm.”

Cam remembered Ben, and anyone who had been trained by Daryl would know of his interest in tracking Scalzo down.

“Ben says the Securities and Exchange Commission is ‘looking at’ this guy,” Daryl said. “One problem I’ve always had in tracing Scalzo was that the man avoids getting his picture taken. But this guy is getting married, so he couldn’t very well refuse to have an engagement picture published.”

“What else have you got?” Cam asked.

“If the Securities and Exchange Commission is sniffing around him, he could be using the same M.O. as Scalzo did in Italy, and the same one that he used in Portland a few years ago. I was nearly in time to get him. He changes looks, identities and locations, but the scam he and his partner run remains the same. They target financial planners—some who handle select clients as well as others who manage pension funds. Scalzo is always the front man. He infiltrates the social strata first—buys an estate, joins the right clubs. That’s exactly what this guy has been doing in the Long Island area for the last year and a half. He promises huge returns to his investors and he delivers them. After the recent scandals, that’s enough to bring him to the attention of the Securities and Exchange Commission.”

“It sounds like the same kind of scam my father tried to run, but your nemesis is much better at it.”

Daryl’s hand settled on Cam’s shoulder. He didn’t have to say a word. As the man who’d recruited Cam, Daryl had accessed all the details on his father’s background. A rich and pampered young man, Cam’s dad, David Fedderman, had relied on his parents to buy him out of scrapes all of his life. Once he’d joined Fedderman Trust, he’d spent all of his time wining and dining clients and traveling to locate new investment opportunities. When it had finally been revealed that he’d been dipping into clients’ accounts to the tune of hundreds of thousands, his parents hadn’t been able to buy Davie out of serving jail time. They had, however, tried to get custody of Cam and his brothers in a brutal lawsuit. But Beth’s lawyer had finally prevailed and she’d immediately changed their last name to hers—Sutherland. They hadn’t heard from any of the Feddermans since.

What wasn’t in all the files was the fact that his father hadn’t been any more skilled at being a father or a husband than he’d been at being a crook. Cam had been ten when it had all gone down, and what he recalled most was that after the arrest, he’d never heard his mother cry herself to sleep anymore.

Daryl looked at him then. “Any chance you could help me out with this?”

Cam smiled at him. “I thought you’d never ask. Do we have any way to connect this guy to the Portland crime?”

“That’s what I’ll start on next. Scalzo’s good.” His smile widened. “But the Portland police have a set of prints for the alias he operated under there. I’ve got a call into the P.D. there right now.”

Cam tapped the second man in the sailboat photo. “What about his partner?”

“There’s no sign of him. He stays out of sight, out of mind.” “What’s your plan?”

“I’ve got some vacation time coming, so I’m going to take a few days to see what I can dig up on Long Island,” Daryl said. “Maybe I can get a whiff of the partner or a glimpse of Scalzo. I think I can recognize him in person.”

“Let me know what you need on this end.” Then he remembered Reid’s text. “But I may have to make a quick trip up to the Adirondacks to check out a family thing.”

Daryl grinned at him. “Luck is on my side.” He pointed to the engagement photo of the man he was sure was Scalzo. “My friend here is getting married in this little place in the Adirondacks this coming Saturday. Castle MacPherson. Ever heard of it?”

Cam stared at him. “Yeah. As a matter of fact, I have. That’s my stepfather’s place.”

“So you’re familiar with it?”

“Somewhat.” Not enough to know that people were scheduling weddings there. He turned to his desk, did a quick search for Castle MacPherson on his computer and found himself looking at Adair’s smiling face. The impact of just seeing her stopped him short for a minute. The fancy wedding hairdo was gone. But the eyes were the same pale, mysterious green. He had to remind himself to take a breath.

“A wedding destination spot, huh?”

Realizing that Daryl was leaning over his shoulder reading the computer screen, Cam reined in his thoughts and scanned the web page. By the time he finished, he’d noted Vi’s photo also, along with a shot of the castle, the gardens and the stone arch. And he’d clicked on a link that led to a small feature article in the New York Times that provided a brief history of the castle as well as the story of the legend and Eleanor Campbell MacPherson’s missing sapphires.

“And here I thought that wedding destinations involved sandy beaches and drinks with little umbrellas in them,” Daryl remarked. “But I guess a stone arch with the promise of a happy-ever-after would have a definite draw. Do you know if the two women are alone up there?”

“They won’t be for long.” Turning, he glanced back up at the photos on his whiteboard. “I’m going to be an unofficial guest at the upcoming wedding.”

“Thanks.” Daryl patted him on the shoulder. “I’ll need a day to get my ducks all in a row and make sure he’s my guy. Then I’ll get in touch.”

BY THE TIME five-thirty rolled around, Cam had his own ducks lined up and he was ready to hit the road for the castle. He answered Reid’s call on the first ring and once he and his brothers had exchanged greetings, he said, “Problem solved. I’m about to give Vi a call to let her know that I’ll be leaving later tonight.” Suiting the action to words, he stepped into the elevator and pushed the button to the garage.

“How did you know Mom and A.D. wanted one of us to go up there?” Reid asked.

“I called her,” Cam said. “You sent me the text an hour ago. Just because you’re the oldest and Mom always calls you doesn’t mean Duncan or I can’t take the initiative.”

“You tell him, bro,” Duncan said, laughing.

“I thought we should discuss it first. What if we all took the initiative and we’d all dropped everything to run up there?” Reid asked with just a trace of annoyance in his tone.

“I checked,” Cam explained. “Duncan’s in Montana and you’re on the way to Dulles right now because the Vice President is flying to Paris.”

“How did you—?” Reid began.

“He’s CIA,” Duncan said. “And, as the middle brother, he always has to show off.”

“And I’m usually the one who gets the field assignments,” Cam pointed out. “I figured I’d get started.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” But Cam could hear the smile in Reid’s tone.

“Plus, you knew I’d jump at the chance once Mom told me that Vi and Adair had discovered an earring from Eleanor’s missing dowry.”

“One of the sapphires?” Duncan asked. “Wait. Time out. We’re talking about one of the sapphire earrings that was probably worn by Mary Stuart on her coronation day?”

“That would be correct,” Cam said.

“If I’d known that, I could have gotten away. The local police made an arrest yesterday, and I’m just hanging around to get some fishing in. Remember all the games we played that summer pretending to find those jewels?”

Cam remembered them well, and the discovery of one of them would allow him the perfect cover to visit the castle. There was no need to let his brothers know that the castle might have other problems, not until Daryl had identified Saturday’s groom-to-be as Gianni Scalzo.

“When can you get there, Cam?” Reid asked.

Always the organizing big brother, Cam thought. But all he said was, “My ETA will be early morning. I’ll check out the security system and find a better place to secure the earring than Angus One’s secret cupboard inside the house. That’s were they’ve put it, and I’m betting that most of the population of Glen Loch knows all about that cupboard, including how to pull the lever to get into it. Have a safe flight, Reid. Catch a fish for me, Duncan.”

He ended the call and walked toward his car. He had no doubt he could handle providing security for the earring Adair and Vi had found. The real problem he was facing was how he was going to handle Adair.

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