Six foot four, at least, she’d guess. Powerfully built. The grace of an animal.

The exotic golden eyes of a tiger.

She suddenly felt like so much fresh meat.

“’Twould seem we have a wee bit of a problem, lass,” he said with silky menace, stepping toward her.

Her hiccups vanished instantly. Sheer terror could do that. Better than a spoonful of sugar or a paper bag anytime.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she lied through her teeth. “I just came to deliver the text and I’m so sorry I got distracted by all your lovely treasures, and I sincerely apologize for invading your home, but Tom is expecting me back, actually Bill is waiting just downstairs for me, and I don’t see any problem.” She gazed wide-eyed at him and concentrated on looking soft and stupid and feminine. “What problem?” Demure batting of the lashes. “There’s no problem.”

He said nothing, merely let his gaze drop to the stolen texts scattered around her feet amid thongs and condom wrappers.

She glanced down too. “Well, yes, you certainly do have an active love life,” she murmured vacuously. “But I won’t hold that against you.” Womanizer!

The look he gave her made the fine hair on the nape of her neck stand on end. His gaze drifted meaningfully to the tomes again.

“Oh! You mean the books. So you like books,” she said lightly. “No big.” She shrugged.

Again he said nothing, merely held her with that intense golden gaze. God, the man was stunning! Made her feel like . . . like that Rene Russo in The Thomas Crown Affair—ready to throw in with the thief. Run off to exotic lands. Stroll about topless on a terrace overlooking the sea. Live beyond the law. Pet his artifacts when she wasn’t petting him.

“Och, lass,” he said, shaking his head, “I’m no’ a fool, so doona insult me with lies. ’Tis plain to see you know precisely what they are. And whence they came,” he added gently.

Gentle from him was dangerous. She knew it instinctively. Gentle from this man meant he was about to do something she really really wasn’t going to like.

And he did.

Crowding her with his powerful body, he backed her toward the bed and gave her a light push that sent her sprawling backward across it.

With the grace of a tiger he followed her down, pinning her to the mattress beneath him.

“I swear,” she babbled hastily, “I won’t tell a soul. I don’t care. It’s okay with me if you have them. I have absolutely no desire to go to the police or anything like that. I don’t even like the police. Police and me have never gotten along. They gave me a ticket once for going forty-eight in a forty-five zone; how could I possibly like them after that? It doesn’t matter one whit to me if you steal half The Met’s medieval collection, I mean, really, they have six thousand pieces, so who’s going to notice a few missing? I am an excellent secret-keeper,” she practically screeched. “I definitely, most assuredly, cross-my-heart-and-hope-to . . . er, will not breathe the teeniest word. Mum. Mum’s the word. And you can take that to the—”