Midnight Jewels

obediently closed her eyes.
    There were advantages to letting Mercy think her every word might be monitored, although Croft was privately certain the room was clean. The lady was too unpredictable and much too rash. She needed to be lightly but firmly reined in, he told himself.
    He was beginning to think he was just the man who could handle that challenging task.
    Croft let another forty-five minutes go by before he reluctantly released Mercy's soft, curled body. Then he got out of bed without making any sudden distributions of weight that might awaken her. He made his way back to his own room on silent feet and pulled on a pair of jeans.
    He let himself outside into the hall. He was already adjusted to the quiet shadows. All he had to do was make himself one of them. He wouldn't use the stairs. The possibility of a weight-sensing device under the carpet was too strong.
    Croft took hold of the railing along the landing, tested it briefly with his hands, then vaulted lightly over the side. He dangled for a moment, his hands around the railing, and listened intently. When he heard nothing to alarm him be began making his way downstairs using the supporting posts of the banister for hand holds. A moment later he dropped soundlessly to the main level of the house.
    One more level to go.

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Chapter TEN

    Mercy discovered she was tired of waking up in the middle of the night with a sense of something being wrong. This sort of tiling, repeated on a regular basis, could turn a woman into a devoted insomniac. At least this time she was able to figure out the problem as soon as she stretched and wriggled one foot under the quilt.
    Croft was gone.
    The bastard
. Mercy sat bolt upright, fuming. Who the hell did he think he was to believe he could just walk into her bedroom any time he pleased, take a quick, flying leap into bed with her and then walk out again before dawn? The man was definitely a diamond in the rough in spite of his fancy meditation habits and his persnickety tastes in tea. If he was going to insist on hanging around her, she decided as she threw back the covers, he was going to get some polishing.
    Shape up or ship out as her Uncle Sid always said.
    She hurried across the room, grabbed her lightweight traveling robe and went briskly through the closed connecting door. Once on the other side she stopped, letting her eyes adjust to a different set of shadows. It didn't take her long to realize Croft wasn't in the room.
    Feminine pique gave way to dread. Mercy reached out to steady herself with a hand against the door. She had almost forgotten that Croft still considered himself on a mission of sorts. She might have no real doubts about Gladstone's honesty and integrity, but Croft would not be so easily convinced. It was very likely he had gone in search of evidence.
    Visions of humiliating discovery and embarrassed, awkward explanations flashed into her mind. She could just imagine what would happen if Dallas or Lance came across Croft going through desk drawers or fiddling with the lock on the library vault.
    The vault.
    It was the most obvious place. If Croft were out skulking around he would undoubtedly head straight for the vault. He had once claimed he had originally traced Egan Graves through his book collecting habits. He'd said he intended to start his current investigation by trying to get a better look at Gladstone's collection so that he could compare it with what he knew of Graves' book buying habits. But heaven help her and Croft both if he was discovered nosing through the vault. Mercy was positive no one was going to be very understanding.
    Mercy didn't waste any more time getting agitated over me situation. She would And Croft and drag him back to his room before they both found themselves trying to explain to Gladstone that they weren't trying to rob him blind.
    One way or another, it seemed Croft was determined to squelch her budding career in the rare book business. He would probably sacrifice anything to finish his stupid mission of vengeance.
    The thing about Croft, Mercy decided as she let herself out into the hall and tiptoed down the stairs, was that he was extraordinarily committed. Once he made up his mind about something he just wouldn't quit. Under certain circumstances that might be reassuring. If he learned to love her, for example, he would probably never stop.
    He was behaving in an infuriating manner, but she couldn't doubt his basic integrity. He was sure he was doing the