Oh God, this is bad. This is so bad. I’ve committed a crime, and now I’m on the run with a jewel thief.

The thought kept racing through Piper’s mind in an endless loop. Somehow this man had convinced her to help him steal the Cheapside hoard. All of it. How the hell had he done that?

He just looked into my eyes, and I went all gooey.

She couldn’t erase that feeling, the heavy compulsion to do exactly what he’d asked. Had he hypnotized her? Didn’t someone need to swing a pocket watch or something to do that? She was in a hot mess, and now he was taking her to God knows where against her will.

But he’d also kept assuring her she was safe. Her natural instincts were torn between trusting him and wanting to knee him in the balls and escape.

Mikhail still had her trapped beneath him, his hands gripping her wrists. She’d stopped screaming once the car started moving. Some part of her was staying rational despite everything that had happened tonight. That voice was now warning her to save her energy. No one would hear her. She was being held hostage in a black Range Rover. Getting free was going to be difficult, and she wouldn’t make it far, being barefoot in a party dress.

Mikhail watched her intently, his gaze hot and frightening. Dark hair fell into his eyes, and he licked his lips. How could she have fallen for a jewel thief? She’d been head over heels for him, kissing him and letting go of her control to just feel everything with him, only for it all to have been a lie. He’d been using her and had somehow gotten into her head. The memory of his mouth on hers now tasted bittersweet.

“Are you ready to behave?” he asked.

The word sparked a new fire inside her. Even though he’d hauled her into the car, she didn’t think he would hurt her on purpose. It gave her the courage to stand up to him.

“Behave?” she echoed, her voice dangerously silky. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? A little slave who would do whatever you tell her to?”

Mikhail chuckled. “You are no slave, not unless you wish to be.” His own tone now turned dangerously soft. “Do you?”

It was then she became truly aware of her body in relation to his. He was lying on top of her, her thighs parted, his slender hips cradled by her body with her skirt bunched up to her waist in black and red ruffles. Memories of their kisses came back to her, and she hated how much she already missed them. Kissing a damned jewel thief. She was going to need some serious therapy after this, because his damned natural dominance was turning her on.

“You said you wouldn’t hurt me,” she warned. If he tried to do anything to her, she would castrate him, no matter how good a kisser he was.

“And I keep my promises, but sometimes a bit of pain intensifies pleasure.” He let go of one wrist to twine his fingers in her hair and tug lightly, prompting a rush of heated memories from their kiss earlier when he’d done the same thing. It had felt so good, so hot, and it spiked new desires inside her.

She shook off the memories. This was not the time to let her fantasies play out. He’d made her help him steal a fortune in jewels somehow and then kidnapped her. Shame filled her at the thought that she was still turned on by him. She’d always thought Stockholm syndrome took longer to set in than this.

Piper turned her shame into anger. “Get off me!”

Under other circumstances, if she’d trusted him, the thought of him dominating her would have made her wet, hot, and panting. Right now she was just angry. He wasn’t going to abduct her, turn her into a felon, and just expect her to swoon.

Mikhail’s eyes softened. The strange gold gleam swirling at the edge of his pupils faded, and the summer-green jade returned.

“Easy, easy now.” She felt that strange desire to do exactly as he said wash over her again. For a long while they simply stared at each other until she felt relaxed and collected. Not brainwashed, just…calmed.

He sat back, let go of her wrist, and loosened his fingers from her hair. She scrambled to the opposite side of the seat and curled her arms around herself. Strangely, being farther away from him made her feel vulnerable in a way that made no sense. As mad and scared as she was, when he touched her it felt…safe. Why the heck would it make her feel safe? Not having an answer to that question wasn’t exactly comforting.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Cornwall.”

“Cornwall?”

“Yes. To my home.” His haunting green eyes entranced her even as they frightened her.

“Why…why are we going there? Are you planning to sell the jewels there? Have you already found a buyer? Or is that your hideout?” She didn’t understand why he had brought her with him unless he was worried about witnesses. Didn’t witnesses to crimes usually end up dead? The thought made her stomach roil and blood roar in her ears.

He chuckled. “All understandable guesses, but no. I’ve no intention of selling them, and I would never call my home a hideout.”

“Why not?”

Mikhail smirked. “Perhaps it is, after a fashion.”

She lowered her arm slightly, shivering. Mikhail removed his coat and held it out to her. She stared at it, then him, wanting to decline.

“Take it. It won’t bite.” Something about his tone made her think he was teasing her.

Piper took the coat hesitantly, but then after another shiver she slipped it on. The large coat made her feel so small, like a child wearing an adult’s clothes.

“What are you planning on doing with the jewels then?” she asked.

“I’m taking them to Russia.” He seemed to wait for her to react to that.

“Russia? But…” Her brow furrowed as she tried to puzzle out his intentions. “You really don’t plan to sell them?” Why would a man steal jewels worth millions, leave some of them behind, go through all the trouble and risk to smuggle them to another country, and not get his money’s worth?

“No.” He settled back against the seat and put his arm around the back of it, his fingertips inches from her shoulder. Her body hummed with tension at his close proximity, and she noted privately that not all of that tension was from fear.

“So why steal them if you don’t plan to sell them?” Piper asked, burrowing deeper into his coat. She lifted the edges of his coat up, inhaling his scent. Damn, it smelled good. She shouldn’t like it, but she did.

“How about I ask you a question first?” His eyes glinted with mischief, which put her more at ease—not that she wanted to feel that way.

“Okay. Ask.” She was curious to know what he wanted to ask, and she hoped that if she played along it might give her some small advantage. A hostage who did what she was told didn’t give the hostage-taker much warning that she was planning to escape, right?

“Why did you become a gemologist?” His green eyes were a pretty shade in the dark, like emeralds covered by shadows.

“I…well…” She’d never really thought about it before. She’d started out in geology, then… “I’ve always been drawn to jewels and gemstones. I guess I’m just fascinated by the array of colors and knowing that they are found that way in nature. It’s amazing.”

“It is.” He smiled wolfishly, but Piper didn’t feel threatened. She’d learned one thing about him tonight—that was a playful smile, not something to be afraid of. Maybe he wouldn’t kill her after all. Her gut didn’t think he would, even though her mind insisted there was no other reason to kidnap her after using her to steal the jewels.

“I like gems. There’s something about their purity, the depth of their colors, and the endless facets that are possible. It’s fascinating.”

“I quite agree. I could spend days holding a ruby in the palm of my hand.” He lifted one hand in the air, palm up, as though imagining a large red stone sitting there. “And watch the light play upon it.” He tilted his head as though thinking about something. “When we reach Cornwall, I wish to show you something.”

Piper bit the inside of her cheek as she tried for the hundredth time to figure out how she was going to get out of this mess.

“Why don’t you sleep awhile? It will be a long drive before we reach my home,” Mikhail said.

“Sleep?” She straightened her shoulders. “I couldn’t sleep here…”

“Piper,” Mikhail sighed, shifting his body closer to hers. “No one is going to hurt you.”

“You’re not planning to kill me?” The question popped out. She’d had no intention of alerting him to her fears, but it was too late now. She was exhausted, and it had just slipped out.

“Kill you?” Mikhail gaped at her. Belishaw chuckled from the driver’s seat, and she glanced between them.

“Yes. Kill me. It’s what the bad guys do with hostages, right? I’m a witness…”

Mikhail shook his head. “I swore to you that I wouldn’t harm you. It should be obvious that includes killing you.” He rubbed his temples with his thumb and forefinger. “Foolish little creature.”

Piper studied his face for any hint that he was lying to her. He glanced back to Belishaw, then to her, and cupped her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes.

“I didn’t want to do this again, little dove, but you give me no choice. You’re exhausted, and you need rest. Now…sleep.” His deep, rumbling voice and the gold flecks in his jade eyes, like dancing flames, lulled her into a strange, hazy, dreamlike state.

She felt her eyelids droop, and her brain went fuzzy. She could just close her eyes for a few minutes, catch a catnap…

* * *

The car halted, making Piper pitch forward a little. She woke up and blinked. She was warm and cozy, and the last thing she wanted was to move.

“As much as I enjoy you cuddling against me, little dove, I need to get you inside where you can sleep in a real bed.” Mikhail’s voice was a husky whisper close to her ear. She glanced around and realized that she was practically on top of him. Her head was tucked beneath his chin, and he had one arm curled around her waist. Her legs were across his lap, and his other hand rested on her outer thigh.

“Oh!” She scrambled away from him, which only made him laugh. The rich, rumbling sound warmed her down to her toes, and she hated that. A kidnapper should not have that effect on her. But Mikhail did. This was definitely a bad case of Stockholm syndrome. There was no denying that.

“Why don’t you come inside and warm up? I’ll put a pot of tea on.” Mikhail climbed out of the car. Piper watched him walk over to Belishaw by the SUV and speak to him. It was a whispered conversation, and whatever Mikhail said had Belishaw nodding and opening the trunk. Mikhail came over to her side of the Rover and opened the door for her. She stared at him, still debating her chances of escape, even though running off into the dark in Cornwall was a terrible idea.

His lips twitched. “I would advise you against trying to run. I would only go after you, and when I caught you, I’d likely punish you.”

“But you said you wouldn’t—”

“There are other ways to teach a lesson than to cause pain. Sometimes withholding something can be more effective.”

Was he serious? “You’d deprive me of food and water?”

“No, of course not,” he replied, his tone darker. “I would never do that.”

“Then what do you mean?”

He leaned into the SUV. “I mean that I would strip you naked and put my mouth and hands upon your body until you begged for release—then I would deny you your desire for pleasure.” His mouth sloped into a lazy grin. “Only after you begged would I grant you mercy and let you come.”

Her temper flared to life. “I would never let you touch me, you—”

Mikhail caught her by the waist and dragged her against him, his mouth covering hers and silencing any protest. She clutched his shoulders, desperate not to fall as he stepped away from the vehicle. How had she forgotten how good he tasted? It was exquisite, like seventy-year-old scotch. She buried her rational thoughts, which warned her that this was a nonsensical thing to do—kissing the man who’d somehow forced her to steal priceless jewels—but damn, he kissed like the world was ending.

Flickers, like faded photos, began to flash through her mind again, confusing her. How was this not some wild dream? A woman in a Tudor-era gown danced with her, the woman’s eyes alight with mischief as she placed her palm against Mikhail’s hand and began to twirl in a courtly dance.

More visions, moving quicker, a kiss in the dark room outside the jewel reception, the feel of her lips against his and an overpowering sense of belonging. Piper’s heart felt as though it was being tugged out of her chest toward his. On some deep level she sensed she was being bound to him, falling for him, but it was insane…wasn’t it?

I can’t love a stranger. I can’t love a man who steals jewels and…

“Wrap your legs around my waist,” he growled against her.

“Excuse me?”

“You have no shoes. I’m going to carry you inside.” He gripped her backside, and she gasped, her legs locking around his waist like he’d flipped a switch. She dug her fingers into his shoulders.

“Please don’t drop me!” she begged. None of her previous boyfriends had ever tried to carry her because she was too heavy.

Mikhail buried his face in her hair and kissed the shell of her ear as he walked. “How could I? You barely weigh anything.”

A blush heated her cheeks, and she shoved aside the girlish excitement at the thought that he was carrying her. And she liked it.

He kidnapped you. This is not sexy or charming. This is a crime. That irksome voice of reason was shouting at her again, but she hushed it.

Mikhail paused at the door of the house. She’d been too distracted to get a proper look at it.

“Hold on.” He turned the knob, and the door creaked open. A rush of warm air escaped as they entered. Mikhail closed the door behind them and set her down.

“Welcome.” He waved a hand at the entryway, and Piper took her time in appraising what a jewel thief’s home was like. It was an old stone mansion with wooden walls and cloth wallpaper that had been painted to look like wooded glens. The walls were warm and rich, with art hanging from the walls along the staircase that led to other rooms. Her bare feet sank into a red-and-blue Persian rug. It was the most surreal moment she’d ever had in her life.

“Come. Let me get you some tea before you settle in for the night.” Mikhail grasped her hand and led her to a quaint kitchen. He offered her a chair at a small table in a cozy nook with a window that overlooked the sea. She pulled his coat tighter about her to keep out the slight chill from the single-glazed windows where a stiff breeze from the ocean drifted through.

“Mikhail…” she began, wondering how many times she’d have to beg him to let her go.

“We will talk about your situation in the morning. Tonight you will sleep.” He set a kettle on the stove and clicked the burner on. Blue flames erupted around the pot.

Piper stared at him through bleary eyes, completely exhausted. She didn’t feel afraid now. She couldn’t explain it, but something felt…different. The rough, dark man Mikhail had been when he’d kidnapped her in London was not here. The man in the kitchen was a relaxed country gentleman. Was it because he’d successfully stolen the jewels and felt he no longer had to worry? That had to be it.

She remained silent as he poured a cup of tea and sat down at the table beside her. The honey and chamomile felt good and soothing as it went down. She’d always enjoyed tea before bed, even as a child.

“This is your house, but you’re from Russia, right?” She tried to puzzle the pieces together even through her fatigue. There was so much that didn’t fit together. The more she knew about him and this situation, the easier it would be to explain to the authorities once she made it back to London.

“Yes. I have lived here for many years, but my true home is in Russia. I haven’t been home in a long time.” The look in Mikhail’s eyes seemed so far away, as though he were seeing ghosts from his past.

“Why do you live here then? Is there a reason you can’t go back?” She couldn’t resist studying him more closely as she sipped her tea. She realized that he was dressed differently now than when they’d kissed at the public reception. He now wore dark blue jeans and a black button-up shirt. He must have gone to Belishaw’s house to change into his thief clothes. She’d imagined thieves ran around in all black with ski masks. But this wasn’t a movie. This was real life, and he’d clearly gotten away with the robbery just fine.

“I made a mistake a long time ago, and my father exiled me. Eventually, I stayed here with a good friend for a time. When he died, he left me this house.”

A pale shaft of moonlight came through the window, illuminating Mikhail’s green eyes. The unexpected pain she saw in them made Piper tilt her head with curiosity.

“I’m sorry about your friend.” She’d never lost anyone close to her and couldn’t imagine what it must be like.

“It was a long time ago, but I have many memories of him to fill my heart.” His sad smile only made him more beautiful somehow. His affection for the man was still there, but a bittersweetness hung about his lips. Piper had the strange desire to lean over and kiss him, to try to banish the sorrow inside him.

Piper hastily drank the rest of her tea and tried not to think about kissing Mikhail anymore. She’d done it enough already today, in situations that seriously called her sanity into question.

Mikhail stood and held out a hand. “Do you want more tea?”

Piper shook her head and handed him the empty mug. He set it on the counter and extended his hand again. After a long hesitation, she placed her palm in his and tried to ignore the spark she felt when he curled his fingers tightly around hers. They left the kitchen, and she followed him down the hall lined with tiny landscape paintings. Someone in this house had loved art. There were piles of folios on a corner table by the stairs, and sketches peeped out at uneven angles from old worn leather bindings.

“Are you an artist?” she asked.

Mikhail chuckled. “Me? No. Those belonged to James. My friend. He was quite talented.” Mikhail paused at a painting at the base of the stairs. It was a cliff-side view of the sea. The waves crashed against the rocks as though announcing the arrival of a storm. There was a distant, almost black-colored bird painted in the distance. Strange to paint a single bird, she thought, a bird that didn’t seem to resemble a bird, actually. The wings were far too spiked, more like a bat than a bird. How odd.

Piper nodded at the scene, which still managed to look stormy despite the hall lamps that painted everything with gold light. “Did he paint this?”

“He did. James was a naturalist, what you’d call a scientist now, but there was a part of him that was untouched by logic and thrived on emotion and the arts. He was one of the few humans I trusted with—” Mikhail suddenly stopped, and with a rueful smile he continued up the stairs. He was a man of more secrets than she realized.

They walked down a short corridor and paused in front of a heavy oak door with intricately carved designs. The latch was an old brass contraption that had not been updated like other parts of the house. It was stiff when Mikhail gave it a jerking twist with his hands. She guessed that most people would have taken a home like this and done their best to update everything so it was new and modern, but Mikhail hadn’t. His home was ancient. The stones by the window were covered in moss, and the walls were thick enough that the roar of the sea outside couldn’t slip between the cracks and stones, though the windows were still a problem. It was a place that filled one’s mind with dreams of days long past and the lives people might have once lived. The house was a haunting place full of surreal beauty.

The wooden door opened, and Mikhail led her inside. A four-poster bed sat on a small dais, with blue-gold brocade curtains draped over the bed, shadowing it from the light of the chandelier.

“You can sleep here,” Mikhail said. “The windows are locked, and I wouldn’t advise breaking them. The glass is thick and old, which makes it more dangerous for you.” He leaned on the bedpost and watched her intently.

Piper walked away from him and examined the delicately designed vanity table, inlaid with mother-of-pearl. The surface was cold and silky to the touch, covered with a fine layer of dust. She tilted her head back to see cobwebs strung like fine spun lace along dozens of perfectly cut glass pieces of the chandelier hanging above their heads.

It’d been a long time since anyone had stayed in this room.

A breeze slipped between the panes of the windows, making Piper shiver despite Mikhail’s heavy coat.

“I’ll fetch you something to wear tonight and start a fire to keep you warm.” Mikhail nodded at the fireplace against the wall that backed up to the outside, directly opposite her bed.

Piper sat down on the edge of the bed to wait. He didn’t lock her in the room, but she suspected he would if he felt the need to. Escape could come later. Right now she just wanted to curl up in a soft, warm bed and sleep. Nothing about tonight had gone the way she’d planned. She was supposed to have met up with Mikhail, sure, maybe have a glass of wine, and, well, do what she’d been wanting to do for more than a decade.

Instead, she was his prisoner on his estate. In Cornwall, of all places. Yeah, she definitely hadn’t planned this. To think she’d been worried he wouldn’t show up at the reception tonight or that he’d stand her up afterward. Those fears seemed rather silly now, all things considered. She closed her eyes and tried to take in a slow, calming breath.

Mikhail returned with a stack of clothes which had a large shirt and boxers.

“I’m sure these will be too big for you other than to sleep in.” He closed the door with his foot and set the clothes beside her on the bed. Then he knelt beside the fireplace and placed several hardy-looking logs on the rack, then set some kindling beneath them. She was only half paying attention when flames suddenly erupted over the logs and a healthy fire began consuming them. How in the world had he started a fire that fast? Piper shook her head. Must’ve been a Boy Scout.

“I’ll come wake you in the morning,” Mikhail said as he rose and walked to the door. “But please, do not run. Between the cliffs and the fog that shrouds the shore this time of year, it isn’t safe.” His earnestness was so startling that she simply nodded. He lingered in the doorway, his face a mixture of doubt and worry. “Good night, little dove.” Then he closed the door.

Rather than feeling safe from him, however, she felt more alone than ever.

Little dove. She hated that she liked being called that. She strained an ear to listen for a lock turning, but she heard only soft footfalls as he walked away. Piper rose from the bed and went to warm herself by the fire. Distant eerie whines trickled down the fireplace as the wind passed over the chimney outside. It reminded her of her grandmother’s tales of banshees in Ireland, crying out to foretell someone’s approaching death. The sound was an unearthly wail, but it was muted by the sounds of the sea.

She padded over to the window and stared out into the darkness. A car was driving away, its taillights already distant spots in the night. Belishaw had finished whatever he’d been doing, probably hiding the jewels for Mikhail before he left. They were truly alone.

Piper faced the stack of clothes and shivered again.

“Suck it up, Piper. If he wanted you dead, you’d already be in the ground,” she muttered. She stripped out of her dress and donned the black T-shirt and plaid blue boxers she’d been provided. The boxers were actually just the right size for her full figure.

There was a tall wardrobe in one corner, and she couldn’t resist investigating. The doors creaked, and the front panel shimmered slightly as gilded paint caught the light from the chandelier and fire. A musty smell, mixed with a lingering hint of perfume, teased her nose, making her sneeze.

Inside the armoire was a collection of clothes. They were very old but in good shape, rather than moth-eaten and faded. Piper tugged on the sleeve of a dressing gown made of red silk, causing it to fall off the hanger. She lifted it out of the armoire and glanced at the closed bedroom door before she examined the outfit.

He won’t know if I just take a little look, right?

The red silk was dark, like burgundy wine, with gold embroidered dragons. She didn’t know how to describe these dragons, except to say that they felt more European than Asian in design.

Her fingers traced the dragons that battled on the back of the dressing gown. Even though it was made of silk, the item was well made and warm. She shrugged it on, feeling a tad guilty, but it was freezing in the room unless she stood directly next to the fireplace. She missed her fuzzy slippers back in her hotel in London. Mikhail didn’t strike her as a man to have fuzzy bunny slippers lying around to borrow.

An exhausted, hysterical giggle escaped her. She covered her mouth with her hand to stifle the sound. There was a long moment of silence in her room, broken only by logs snapping and crackling in the fireplace.

I’m losing my mind. That’s it. I’m going all-out bananas. There was nothing funny about being stuck in a mansion on the Cornwall coast after being made an unwitting accomplice in a jewel heist.

Even though she was exhausted, she couldn’t sleep. Piper tiptoed to the door, the dressing gown trailing behind her, the silken train whispering on the carpet, then the stones. She tested the knob, wincing as it creaked. She froze, then waited for Mikhail to come charging down the hall, but nothing happened. She opened the door and peered around it into the corridor.

The door to a room two doors down was slightly ajar. It had to be Mikhail’s bedroom. Gold light could be seen, inviting her to come inside, but she ignored the lure. Strains of music drifted down the hall toward her. It sounded like Tchaikovsky. Mikhail was a classical music fan? She was as well. So few people seemed to have an appreciation for classical music anymore.

In the small blue-collar working town where she’d grown up, there hadn’t been much of a chance to listen to music like that. When she’d gotten her scholarship and had taken art history and music classes for her electives, she’d discovered a beautiful, artistic world she’d never known existed. One Mikhail seemed to share.

Mikhail was so different from the men she’d known growing up. He was mysterious, worldly, completely intoxicating. That whole tall, dark stranger thing women joked about being attracted to? It was totally a real thing.

Piper walked down the hall, away from Mikhail’s room, intending to explore the first floor of the house. She’d just put her foot down on the top step when an arm shot around her waist, lifting her into the air. She was jerked back against a hard male body.

“Going somewhere, little dove?” Mikhail whispered in her ear.