Cuckoo in the Coven

Reluctantly, Cullen’s gaze lifted from hers, his eyebrows drawing down and his expression growing guarded. He quickly folded the leather sleeve closed and set it down on a nearby table, hiding it behind a lamp, his other hand pressing the wood panel shut on its axis, forcing it at the last when it grew stiff and unwilling to lie flat.

Sunny watched as the secret panel closed and became an integral part of the wall again.

Cullen’s expression changed as the tour guide marched up to them and he acknowledged her presence.

The guide didn’t seem to notice the jewel wrap.

Sunny figured Cullen was right when he said it wasn’t the property of the Heritage House consortium—it wouldn’t be on their purchase inventory, for a start. But it would be a tough case to argue, especially when the man who claimed rights to the goods said he was from the early eighteen-hundreds.

“I’m sorry, madam, did we drop behind? We were just admiring the wonderful woodwork.” He grinned widely at the guide. “I do love a good bit of paneling.” He patted the wood with one hand.

The tour guide gave him a dubious look, folding her arms with a disapproving glance.

“Come along, my love,” he added. “We mustn’t miss out on our guide’s amusing anecdotes.”

Sunny felt nauseous. Panic had set in. Had she done the wrong thing keeping Cullen in the dark about her plans for Fox? It was too late now.

The guide forced a tight smile. “You really can’t fall out of the guided tour, you might miss something important. Now, do I have your full attention?”

“Madam, for the rest of the tour, my lady betrothed and I are all yours.”

The guide turned away, apparently satisfied, and disappeared back down the corridor.

He rested his head against Sunny’s hair and whispered, “Then you’re all mine.”

A desperate sense of fate and a wave of loss loomed closer, swamping her. “No, Cullen.” She shook her head vehemently. “You mustn’t think of me as such, and you cannot assume pushing through with chivalry will solve our situation!”

“You told me you loved me,” he responded, his eyebrows gathering.

“And I do, but we aren’t yet free of our obligations, nor will we be until I have dealt with Fox.”

Cullen glowered. “I forbid it. I’ll deal with him. It’s my job to protect you, witch or no witch.”

She stared at him, aghast. “Cullen, you have a lot to learn about modern women, let alone witches!”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Cullen wished he could swallow his words. His actions had been heavy-handed, his intentions badly timed.

Of course Sunny didn’t need his protection. He’d learnt that much about her very quickly. She was a fierce woman. Aside from her witchcraft, she was wholly independent. He didn’t blame her for getting annoyed with his actions. Hot headed and idiotic, he’d lumbered in like a fool.

He was about to reassure her he did understand, when her eyes rounded and she stared over his shoulder.

She whispered low and urgently to him beneath her breath. “Remember what I said, Cullen. No matter what, I don’t want anyone else. Remember!”

With that, she put her hand firmly to his chest and pushed him aside. “Take your trinkets and shove them,” she declared loudly.

Turning to follow her gaze, Cullen saw Nathaniel Fox was lounging in one of the winged velvet armchairs behind the braided rope meant to keep tourists away from the furnishings. Sunny said the ropes were meant to keep the most precious possessions safe from visitors, yet there was Nathaniel, bold as brass, lording it over the place. Not only that, the scoundrel had a vindictive smile on his face and laughter in his eyes.

“Do I sense discord between the precious lovebirds?” Nathaniel asked.

“How perceptive you are, Viscount,” Sunny responded and clapped her hands together as if in glee. “And what a delight it is to finally see you again.”

Nathaniel studied her a moment, then responded with apparent caution. “You have been anticipating our reunion?”

“Counting the moments,” she said in a breathy voice, and tossed back her mane of ringlets.

Cullen’s mood darkened as Sunny sidled over to Nathaniel, moving the way she had the night she danced with him in the cottage, her hips swaying from side to side in a seductive rhythm.