[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.The thought of his sleek black hair sweeping hisnaked muscled back drove her crazy.She wondered if he ever wore it down.It seemed so in keeping with his character that it would be longand wild, but meticulously restrained unless he chose to free it.She tried to make small talk, but he didn't rise to any of the bait she cast.Fishing, trying to pick his brain,getting nothing but grunts and incoherent murmurs.They sat together in silence for hours that afternoon, with Chloe delicately turning the pages of the MidheCodex with tissues, and sneaking peeks at Dageus while he worked with the Book of Manannan,scribbling notes as he translated.At five o'clock, she got up and turned the news on, wondering if there might be some small mention ofher disappearance.As if, she thought wryly.One little girl gone missing in the wormy Big Apple? Bothpolice and newscasters had better things to do.He looked at her then, a hint of smugness playing about his lips.She arched a questioning brow, but he said nothing.She listened absently while she read, then suddenlyher attention was riveted to the screen."The Gaulish Ghost struck again last night, or so the police believe.Baffled might be the best way todescribe New York's finest.At an unknown time, early this morning, all the artifacts previously stolen bythe Gaulish Ghost were left at the front desk of the police station.Once again, no one saw a thing, whichmakes one wonder just what our police."There was more, but Chloe didn't hear it.She glanced down at the text she was holding.Then at him."I bartered for that one, lass.""You really did it," she breathed, shaking her head."When you went to my apartment for my things, youtook them back.I don't believe it.""I told you I was merely borrowing them."She stared at him, utterly flummoxed.He'd done it.He'd returned them! A sudden thought occurred toher.One she didn't much care for."That means you're leaving soon, doesn't it?"He nodded, his expression unfathomable."Oh." She pretended a hasty fascination with her cuticles to conceal the disappointment that flooded her.Page 50Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.htmlHence she missed the cool, satisfied curve of his lips, a touch too feral to be called a smile.Outside Dageus MacKeltar's penthouse, on a sidewalk crammed with people rushing to escape the cityat the end of the long work week, one man wove his way through the crowd and joined a second man.They moved discreetly aside, loitering near a newsstand.Though clad in expensive dark suits, with shorthair and nondescript features, both were marked by unusual tattoos on their necks.The upper part of awinged serpent arced above crisp collar and tie."He's up there.With a woman," Giles said softly.He'd just come down from rented rooms in the buildingon the opposite corner, where he'd been watching through binoculars."The plan?" his companion, Trevor, inquired softly."We wait until he leaves; with luck he'll leave her there.Our orders are to get him on the run.Force himto rely upon magic to survive.Simon wants him back overseas.""How?""We'll make him a fugitive.Hunted.The woman makes things simpler than I'd hoped.I'll slip in, takecare of her, alert the police, anonymously of course, and make his penthouse the stage of acold-blooded, gruesome murder.Set all the cops in the city after him.He'll be forced to use his powersto escape.Simon believes he won't permit himself to be imprisoned.Though if he were, that might workto our advantage as well.I've no doubt time in a federal prison would hasten the transformation."Trevor nodded."And I?""You wait here.Too risky for both of us to go up.He's not to know we exist yet.If anything goes awry,ring Simon immediately."Trevor nodded again, and they drifted apart, to settle back and wait.They were patient men.They'dbeen waiting for this moment all their lives.They were the lucky ones, those born in the hour of theProphecy's fruition.To a man, they would die to see the Draghar live again.A messenger from a travel agency arrived shortly before the small crew of people who delivered dinnerfrom Jean Georges.Chloe couldn't begin to imagine what something like that cost--didn't think Jean Georges delivered--butshe suspected that when one had as much money as Dageus MacKeltar, virtually anything could bebought.While they ate before the fire in the living room, he continued working on the book that had initiallylanded her in this mess.The envelope from the travel agency lay unopened on the table between them--a glaring reminder,chafing her.Earlier, while he'd been in the kitchen, not quite brazen enough to tear open the envelope,Page 51Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.htmlshe'd snooped instead through his notes--what she could read of them.It appeared that he wastranslating and copying every reference to the Tuatha Dé Danaan, the race that had allegedly arrived inone of several waves of Irish invasions.There were a few scribbled questions about the identity of theDraghar, and numerous notes about Druids.Between her major in ancient civilizations and Grandda'stales, Chloe was well versed in most of it.With the exception of the mysterious Draghar, it was nothingshe'd not read about before.Still, some of his notes were written in languages she couldn't translate.Or even identify, and that gaveher a kind of queasy feeling.She knew a great deal about ancient languages, from Sumerian to present,and could usually target, at least, area and approximate era.But much of what he'd penned--in an elegantminuscule cursive worthy of any illuminated manuscript--defied her comprehension.What on earth was he looking for? He certainly seemed to be a man on a mission, working on his taskwith intense focus.With each new bit of information she gathered about him, she grew more intrigued.Not only was hestrong, gorgeous, and wealthy, but he was unarguably brilliant.She'd never met anyone like him before."Why don't you just tell me?" she asked point-blank, gesturing at the book.He raised his gaze and she felt the heat of it instantly.Throughout the day, when he hadn't been utterlyignoring her, the few times he'd looked at her, there'd been such blatant lust in his gaze that it was erodingevery bit of common sense she possessed.The sheer force of his unguarded desire was more seductivethan any aphrodisiac.No wonder so many women fell prey to his charm! He had a way of making awoman feel, with a mere glance, as if she were the most desirable woman in the world.How was awoman to stare into the face of such lust, and not feel lust in response?He was leaving soon.And he couldn't have made it more clear that he wanted to sleep with her.Those two thoughts in swift conjunction were abjectly risky."Well?" she pressed irritably.Irritated with herself for being so weak and susceptible to him.Irritatedwith him for being so attractive.And he'd just had to go and return those texts, confounding her alreadyconfounded feelings about him."What, already?"He arched a dark brow, his gaze raking her in a way that made her feel as if a sudden sultry breeze hadcaressed her."What if I told you, lass, that I seek a way to undo an ancient and deadly curse?"She scoffed.He couldn't be serious.Curses weren't real.No more than the Tuatha Dé Danaan werereal.Well, she amended, she'd never actually reached a firm conclusion about the Tuatha Dé or any ofthe "mythological" races said to have once inhabited Ireland.Scholars had dozens of arguments againsttheir alleged existence.Still.Grandda had believed [ Pobierz caÅ‚ość w formacie PDF ]