Touch of Darkness Read Free Page B

camera, expounding on the fabulous treasure of gold and knowledge.
    "Hardwick does like his wee fait of attention and with ye gone, he's had it."
    "I'll bet." The first hint of a shadow appeared on the horizon. The Isle of Roi.
    "When I tell the American tourists the island is only seven miles across, and that there are no cars, they look as if my wit has escaped me." Duncan's shrewd eyes watched as the island took shape—flat on one end, rising slowly to a tall cliff on the other. "And the reporters! Squawking and laden down with cameras, each one trying to slip Freckle and Eddie a tip to carry their gear."
    Rurik glanced back at the two crewmen. "Did they rake it in?"
    "They liked the money. They didna' like being treated like the village idiots."
    "How many reporters are there?"
    "Four—two from Edinburgh, one from London, and a German from some international news service. Enough to write one decent story, ye'd think, but I've yet to see one." Duncan faced Rurik, leaned against the railing, and crossed his arms over his chest. "Now, when that sweet-faced dark-hair lass starts awritin', then we'll see something."
    Rurik played dumb. "Who?"
    Duncan wasn't buying it. "Ye know who."
    "Tasya?"
    "Nay, I dunna' know Tasya. I mean Hunni."
    "Tasya . . . Hunnicutt." Everyone called her Hunni, and she responded easily to the endearment, smiling at everyone, charming men, women, and children alike.
    Rurik couldn't bring himself to use her pet name so casually. It irritated him—she irritated him—like a grain of sand in a clam.
    "Ah, is that her real name?" Duncan said. "I didna' know." The hell he didn't. He saw right through Rurik's pretended indifference.
    "So she's here." Rurik would see her again, see her for the first time since he'd completed his carefully plotted seduction and they'd spent the night in Edinburgh together.
    "Brought her across this morning. She said she would have been here sooner, but she was finishing the photos for her story in Egypt. She's a traveler, that one is."
    That's for damn sure. A man would have to nail her feet to the floor to keep her in one place. "She hasn't been here long. Good."
    "There's na' harm in the lass."
    No harm? Rurik remembered all too clearly the harm she'd done him. The scent of her skin, the sound of her husky laughter, the sensation of her heated body against his, her taste . . . "She's too damned nosy for her own good."
    "In a charming way—but then, I've got the hots for her." Duncan put his hand to his chest and sighed like a lovelorn lad.
    Rurik clasped the rail as tightly as he could. He had to, or he would strangle Duncan.
    Duncan rattled on. "There isna' a man on the island, barring that nancy-boy reporter from London, whose compass doesna' point north at the sight of her."
    "She's got a bony face."
    "She's got a face?"
    Duncan's incredulity caught Rurik by surprise, and he laughed. Of course, Duncan was right. Why should any of the guys care what her face looked like?
    Unfortunately for Rurik, he couldn't get Tasya's face out of his mind.
    Her short hair was so black that in the right light, like in the pub after a hard day's work and a few hours' drinking, the highlights shone with all the colors and gloss of a raven's wing. Her cobalt eyes were surrounded by Snuffleupagus eyelashes, absurdly thick, sooty, and long. When she blinked, her lashes fanned the air, and when she looked at Rurik, her electric blue gaze sent a shock along his nerves.
    And to be fair, her face wasn't really bony— sculpted would be a better word, with a broad chin that she used for emphasis—she lifted it when she was stubborn, turned it away when she had no intention of listening, pointed it at a guy when she wanted to make a statement.
    When it came to her body . . . well, okay, Rurik understood why the guys made moaning noises about woodies and making a hole in one. She looked like a fifties film goddess, with generous breasts— Rurik gave her a C, and that wasn't a grade—a tiny