His gaze followed my every move as if he were a cat and I the mouse he was thinking of pouncing upon.
The thought curdled the cream in my mouth. I swallowed hard and set the cup and saucer down with a clatter. So much for my poker face.
“Why did your assistant trip over himself to not call you Commander Carrollus?”
“I am active reserve,” he admitted. “This is a separate venture, however, reporting to no one but me. I will not have this venture flown into the ground by political wrangling and financial mismanagement. It’s too vital to me and to my . . . to the people with a stake in this endeavor.”
I found myself nodding. That felt true. It was the first unvarnished statement I’d gotten from him, even if he had stumbled over not saying “my investors”.
“Okay,” I said. “Where does that leave us? If I had to guess, I’d say you had this office staged today.”
Interest gleamed in his gaze again, and he leaned closer. “What makes you say that?”
The question felt like a caress. I jumped and had to fumble for my train of thought. “It’s too clean.
There’s not a speck of dust on anything. It doesn’t smell right. Without looking, what’s on the shelf just over my head?”
He grinned. The corners of his eyes crinkled.
My heart skipped a beat.
“You do think on your feet, don’t you?” he murmured, smile dying as he took my hand again. He lifted it and pressed his lips against my fingers. “Well done. I have no idea what’s on any of these shelves.”
Heat rushed into my face. “Trygg.” It came out a croak. I cleared my throat and tried again. “My hand, Trygg. I need that.”
“Do I frighten you, Finlay?”
Of course he did, but I’d eat that dusty, dry science brief I’d been reading in his fake reception area before I’d admit it.
A wave of dizziness slammed me. I held my breath and frowned, willing it to pass. A buzz filled my ears and I noticed two things at once.
One, Carrollus watched me far too intently, an odd, avid gleam in his eyes. Two, he hadn’t touched a drop of his coffee.
Fear burned a path straight down my throat to my stomach. I tried to jump to my feet and ended up wavering to them instead.
“You unbelievable bastard,” I gasped. I grabbed the spoon. I’d had two sips. Maybe I could stick the handle of the spoon far enough down my throat to trigger a gag reflex. My numb fingers refused to cooperate.
The spoon hit the carpet with a thunk.
I bolted for the door, except, of course, I moved as if I waded through hip-high mud.
Carrollus snaked an arm around my waist.
“Oh, no,” he murmured at my ear.
He swept me into his arms as if I weighed nothing at all.
I couldn’t protest.
Heat joined the dizziness. I felt the fine sheen of sweat on my face. My breath wheezed when I drew it.
“Lieutenant!” he snapped at the receptionist.
“Sir?”
“Alert the medical team,” Carrollus ordered. “She’s having an adverse reaction.”
He’d poisoned me, yet he had the gall to sound concerned.
“Aye, sir.”
“Hang on,” he muttered to me. “I’m not willing to lose you, Finlay Selkirk.”
Something dinged. Doors opened. He stepped in.
I groaned. “God, not an elevator.” An insipid muzak version of “Jingle Bells” on sax.
“Close your eyes,” he urged. “It’ll help.”
It sounded like a good idea.
He pressed cool lips to my brow.
Surprise and a tendril of pleasure pushed back the dizziness for a split second.
“My everlasting regret is that I can’t have you myself,” he said in a voice that led me to believe I wasn’t supposed to hear him.
Then the buzzing in my ears rose to a deafening shriek and it occurred to me it sounded curiously like my own voice.
I woke in a bed not my own. I couldn’t call it too soft because it was exquisitely comfortable, but it cradled my body in a way my bed never had. It was nice. If only because I felt like an entire tank squadron had driven through my head. From the rumble in my brain, I gathered they might be circling for another pass.
I hadn’t had a hangover since the single ill-fated experiment with alcohol I’d undertaken at my first and last party at nineteen. What on earth had possessed me this time?
Ah. That’s right. Poisoned coffee and Commander Carrollus had. Not literally. At least, I didn’t think so.
Just as well. If there were going to be bad things done with those lips of his, I wanted to be awake for it. Could I ask for something like that for Christmas?
Unfortunate that those lips were attached to someone I fully intended to prosecute. Commander Carrollus in prison for slipping me a mickey. The thought shouldn’t have made me smile, but it did.
Someone shifted.
“Finlay?”
Carrollus.
My eyes snapped open and I gasped at the searing array of fabrics and colors surrounding me. “Dear God. You drug me, kidnap me, and bring me to hell?”
I was tucked into an enormous Gothic horror of a canopy bed hung with sheer, gauzy fabrics that vibrated with combinations of saffron, teal, crimson and violet. The nightmare curtains had been drawn back on one side to show me the rest of the room, decorated with the same Marquis de Sade flair. Padded leather handcuffs dangled from a chain attached to the ceiling. A bitter tendril of fear slithered into my chest.
I had no idea where I was or how long I’d been out. Why kept rolling around the inside of my skull, accompanied by an unsettling feeling of helplessness. Stop it, Finlay. First rule of running a psychological battery: put the subject off guard by any means possible.
Commander Carrollus had succeeded.
I suppressed a shudder.
He appeared to be sitting vigil at my bedside. Sweet, in that “the jerk who poisoned me gives a shit whether I live or die” kind of way. He’d deserted Armani’s army. Even though I didn’t recognize the black uniform he wore, that’s exactly what it was, and it fit far too well for my comfort.
“Finlay?” Carrollus, again. “Are you all right?”
“No, I am not all right. Could you turn down the melodrama in the room? My eyes are about to bleed.”
His lips twitched like someone who wanted to smile, but knew he wasn’t supposed to. “You’re feeling better.”
He’d won this round. I’d be damned if I’d let him win another.
“I’m better enough that you can start explaining,” I grumbled as I struggled to free myself from the bed.
“There are explanations to be had. It is not my place to give them to you. If you’re able to dress, I’ll escort you to my CO.”
I knew it. Goddamned military op. I was pretty clear that my government wouldn’t have spent the cash on a military op that dealt in negligees like the one I discovered I was wearing when I rolled out of the bed and stood. My hair swung down my back, free of the French twist I’d so carefully put it into.
A low, inarticulate sound came from Carrollus. “Finlay, you are beautiful.” He sounded grudging, as if he thought he ought to explain his growl of appreciation, but didn’t like the fact that he’d reacted at all.
Heat suffused my skin. I glanced down at the lace and pink silk barely covering me, then met his gaze.
Irritation put lines in his forehead. What annoyed him? The fact that I was still standing there half-naked?
Or was it the desire clouding his blue eyes that troubled him? For that matter, shouldn’t it bother me rather than make me tingly all over?
I lifted an eyebrow.
He had the grace to flush. His gaze slid away. “Mary insisted you’d be more comfortable like that.