A Trap So Tender Read Online Free PDF Page B

afraid to open that door?”
    “Not at all.” Her hand still clutched the small round handle,
and she forced herself to turn it. With her luck it would be locked anyway. It
swung open suddenly, almost pulling her into the room with it. She let go of the
handle as if it burned. The room was piled high with furniture. Literally, it
was piled almost to the rather low ceiling. Chairs and tables and chests, all
obviously old and made of unpainted dark wood. “I think we found the junk
room.”
    “Interesting.” James stepped past her and into the room. “I’ve
never been in here. I don’t think I ever even noticed the door before.” He
looked around at the stacks of furniture that blocked their entrance. “You
certainly are bringing something to this quest.”
    “Let’s hope it’s good luck that I’m bringing.”
    “I’m not at all sure, but I’ll take my chances.” His
challenging gray gaze met hers.
    Her heart kicked violently in response. Partly because a simple
glance from him had that effect on her, and partly because she hadn’t come here
to bring him good luck.
    “I bet some of these pieces are quite valuable.”
    “Do you know anything about antique furniture?” He rubbed at
the finish of a nearby upside-down chair.
    “Nothing at all.”
    “Me neither. I guess we’ll just leave it here for the next
generation to rediscover. Though I suppose we should check all the drawers for
cup bottoms.” He tugged on the brass handle of an elaborately carved chest. The
drawer didn’t budge.
    “Let me try.” She needed something to do. Her nerves were all
on edge. She grabbed the handle and tugged on it. It came off in her hand,
revealing sharp brass nails. “Oh.”
    “Looks like we’ll have to keep you away from the priceless
artifacts.” His eyes sparkled with amusement.
    “I’m sure it will be easy to fix.” She looked at the handle in
her hand. The nails made it look like a weapon. “Though maybe we should leave
that to a professional.” What little she did know about furniture told her that
this little carved chest was several hundred years old.
    James wrapped his long, strong fingers around the outside of
the drawer and pulled it out as if it were a matchbox. Empty.
    “That was an anticlimax.” She heaved a sigh of relief, then
wondered why. Was she worried they’d find this dumb cup base too soon and she’d
have no excuse to stay here?
    He pulled out the next drawer. Also empty, and very stained
with something that looked like black ink. “Is that the blood of your ancestors’
enemies, perhaps?”
    “Nope. Too dark. There’s a bloodstained floorboard in one of
the upstairs bedrooms that resists all attempts to clean it. It’s where one of
my forebears was murdered by his manservant.”
    “Yikes. I guess that’s the family curse in action.”
    “No doubt. It’s quite a different color than this, though. Much
richer. Almost like a wood stain.”
    “I’ll have to remember that if I need to refinish something
cheaply.” She blew out another breath as he closed the drawer. She turned and
lifted the lid on a nearby piece built like an old steamer trunk, but made of
blackened oak carved with oak leaves. The lid opened easily, and the contents
made her gasp. “This entire chest is filled with cup bases!”
    James moved over to where she stood blinking at all the wide
bases with their narrow stems. He let out a loud laugh. “Those are
candlesticks.”
    “Oh. Of course they are.” She cursed her stupidity. “I suppose
that’s a perfect example of seeing things the way you want them to be.”
    He picked one up and twisted it in the light. Like the others,
it was a dark metal, tarnished to a dull, sheenless finish. “I guess these all
went out of style overnight when they wired the place for electricity. Not that
this wing ever got wired. I suppose they just shoved them all here out of the
way.”
    “Funny to think how important these once were.”
    “They still are. We lose power