Chapter Seven

NATE

I'd been tempted to kiss Alex again. But kissing would lead to other things, and if we slept together, he'd probably want a repeat hookup. I didn't do repeats anymore. Not since Charlie. So then things between us would become awkward, and we couldn't risk that if we were to succeed in deceiving James Fortescue. It would be safer not to dabble in the pool of Alex Teague.

I kept reminding myself of that as we went around the museum, though it became increasingly difficult to remember. The subversive laughter in Alex's eyes every time he found something to work into Jane's secret life as a theatre groupie was enticing.

We were heading for the exit when one of the enthusiastic members of staff stopped us. "There's a tea room upstairs if you'd like a cup of tea and a piece of cake," she said.

It would delay seeing Charlie again. I raised my eyebrows at Alex, who shrugged and agreed. "I'm not in any particular hurry to get back to that house," he confided as we climbed the stairs to the tea room. "Also, I'm starving."

We settled at a table, and he attacked his slab of coffee-and-walnut cake like a man who hadn't seen food for three days. "This book of yours," he said between mouthfuls. "How the hell did you come up with sexy Jane Austen?"

"I needed an excuse to be in Bath. A book's perfect as I can leave again at any time, saying I've finished my research. When I thought about what Bath was famous for, it was either Romans or Austen."

"You're not actually writing a book, then?"

A spurt of laughter escaped me, loud in the empty room. "No," I said with feeling. "That's a cover story."

"And you thought the Fortescues would believe it?"

"I couldn't think of another excuse, and I was certain they'd question whatever reason I gave them for being in Bath. As it is, I don't think Bim truly expects me to find anything. He sent me here just in case I could."

"Fair enough." Alex grinned suddenly. "And now you're stuck researching Jane Austen and Regency theatre to ensure your cover isn't blown."

"Shit." I hadn't realised the full implications of my pretext.

"I don't mind helping with the research if it gets me out of the house."

"Aren't you here to do the matchmaking meet and greets?" I asked him.

It was his turn to laugh. "Thank God, no. Margaret brought me because I'm in line to be head of the family, and she wants me to learn some negotiation skills and meet some of the other players. So far, all I've got from their conversations is that they're a couple of wily old birds who won't commit to a damn thing." He paused, swiping his finger around his plate to scoop up some left-over icing. "That's probably the lesson she wanted me to learn," he realised.

"So you're not here looking for a partner?" I instantly wanted to hurl myself out of the window for such a pointed-sounding question.

A slow smile tugged at his lips, and he looked me up and down, very deliberately. "Well, I wasn't."

"We're closing in ten minutes, gentlemen." I could have kissed the woman who poked her head out of the kitchen and broke the tension between us.

"Is there anything I need to know about the Fortescues?" Alex asked, his mind evidently back on business.

"I assume you've already read into their bank and companies. James runs everything, though he's grooming Charlie to take over. Ella and Steven might as well not exist so far as James is concerned."

"Steven?"

"Charlie's younger brother. Consider yourself fortunate if you haven't met him. He's a prick. Worse, he's a homophobic prick."

Alex's eyebrows rose. Homophobia's rare among dragons, probably because we're so in tune with our instincts.

"Though I wonder," I continued, thinking out loud, "if perhaps he's not actually homophobic and is just searching for something he can use to attack his brother. Charlie's the golden child. He was born with looks, charm, brains—Steven has none of those." And Charlie, secure in the multitude of ways he'd been blessed, hadn't always been kind to Steven. "As the oldest child, Charlie inherits the majority of everything because no one wants to see the business split up or shareholders at war with one another. It must be difficult for Steven," I realised for the first time. "For Ella, too."

"A minor inheritance in that family is more than most will see in their lifetime, so I wouldn't feel too bad for them," Alex said.

He wasn't wrong. But that wouldn't take away the sting of injustice for Steven and Ella.

*

As Taylor took our jackets, I wondered what he, as a human, made of these extended visits by large family groups. There were also the adult children still living at home, despite being able to afford their own places. He'd probably concluded we all belonged to some sort of cult. One that talked about dragons a lot.

A considerable number of dragons, both Teagues and Fortescues, were gathered in the spacious drawing room. My heart stopped for an instant when I saw Charlie in an armchair, drinking a cup of tea and ignoring everyone. I had to become accustomed to seeing him again. I couldn't afford to be perpetually off-balance.

"Nate fucking Mortimer. What the hell are you doing, slinking back here?" The words were edged with real dislike.

I turned to see Charlie's brother. Always big, he'd bulked up further since I'd last seen him.

"Steven." I had nothing further to say to him.

Charlie joined us. "Nate's here to see me," he told Steven, blithely unaware or uncaring that he was misrepresenting the situation.

"So why was he making out with Rough Trade over there?" Steven gestured towards Alex, who'd joined his family group but was unfortunately still close enough to hear Steven's words.

"Nate?" Oh, God. Charlie sounded like a lost little boy. He'd done that sometimes, and I'd never been able to resist it. From the glitter in Steven's eyes, that was precisely the reaction he'd wanted.

"We kissed," I said shortly. "That's all."

"But—"

I was not going to have this conversation in front of everyone. I took Charlie by the arm and pulled him out of the room. "You told me to make up my mind. This is part of me making up my mind, okay?"

However lacking in logic it was, my statement seemed to reassure Charlie. His eyes were tracking me a little too slowly, so perhaps that was why he was easily convinced. Was he okay? And then I caught a whiff of alcohol on his breath. What the hell—it was Sunday afternoon with his family. I leaned forward to check, and he took that as an invitation. As he tried to kiss me, I stepped back sharply.

"I need time," I said, and I could see the effort it took him to nod and agree.

Charlie had always grabbed what he wanted, when he wanted. For him to employ this level of self-control must mean he really wanted me back. I felt guilty about misleading him, even while a tiny part of me was insistent that perhaps I wasn't misleading him.

"I'll let you circulate," I told him, and returned to the drawing room.

Every time I knew Charlie and I were definitively over, a voice somewhere inside me contradicted that, trapping me in an endless cycle of doubt. I'd only been here twenty-four hours, and I was already exhausted.

ALEX

I should have been talking to the Fortescue cousins who they'd put either side of me at supper that night, but for some reason, I couldn't stop watching Nate Mortimer. Research, I told myself. I was following Margaret's orders and getting to know the enemy.

Ella and Charlie were vying for Nate's attention and wouldn't leave him alone, even when he was trying to make polite conversation with Fiona, sitting to his left. He was easy and teasing with Ella, displaying a warmth I had yet to see from any of the Fortescues. Each time he and Charlie spoke, there was something in Nate's face I couldn't read. He looked thankful to stand up as soon as coffee was announced and didn't join us in the drawing room, so I guessed he'd made his escape. Shame I hadn't thought of doing the same.

As I drank my coffee, I looked around the room and wondered how to find out what I wanted to know. This wasn't like trying to steal an item. A plan was intangible, and we had no idea if any of it had been put in writing. Perhaps I should make nice with the younger Fortescues and see what I could get out of them.

I headed towards Charlie for the simple reason he was fractionally less objectionable than his brother. Rough Trade, indeed. "How were the Roman Baths?" I greeted him.

His eyes were cold on my face. "Not as exciting as your afternoon, by all accounts."

"If you call getting lectured by Jane Austen enthusiasts dressed in Regency costumes exciting. I made the mistake of going to the museum."

"With Nate?" He was full of suspicion.

"He wanted someone to share the misery, and I was the only one here," I explained. I needed to divert his train of thought away from Nate and onto what I wanted to find out. "Did they tell you about Roman bath hygiene?"

He shrugged, looking uninterested.

"They probably got out of the baths dirtier than they went in," I told him. "The bath water was covered with scum from the oil they rubbed on themselves, not to mention filled with dead skin and piss because they so rarely drained the baths. And then there were the worms. Because Romans ate loads of fermented fish sauce, tapeworms were common, and of course, the unclean baths spread them to anyone who'd managed to avoid being infected."

"Thanks for that." Charlie wrinkled his nose, disgusted. Score one for Alex Teague's love of useless historical facts.

"I've spent too much of my life reading history," I confessed. "I guess it's to be expected when you're descended from someone as famous as King Arthur."

"Nate and I went to the Baths once," he said, ignoring my statement. "We came home and roleplayed a Roman Centurion and his body slave. I made Nate come so hard he blacked out."

Oh my God, was Charlie twelve years old? "Well, I hope you didn't rim him," I said. "You wouldn't want a tapeworm stuck in your teeth."

As his colour rose alarmingly, I turned on my heel and left. What the hell had Nate seen in him? But also, and I supposed more importantly, there hadn't been a flicker at my mention of Arthur. Surely there would have been if he knew of his father's plan. Or what we thought was his father's plan.

As he didn't know anything, there was no need to waste time talking to him ever again. I was grateful for small mercies.