He stared at my palm. “And you’ve scraped your hand.” Without warning, he kissed my wrist. I almost moaned as my system went to code red. My arm tingled, my heart raced and all the breath in my body got caught in my throat. With my luck, these were the first symptoms of a heart attack.

I eased my hand away and reached for the beer. “I had a little mishap at the library.”

“Define mishap.”

I sighed. “I think someone was trying to kill me.”

“Do tell,” he said calmly, but his eyes were narrowed and his mouth was a thin, grim line.

I took off my jacket and laid it on the seat, then told him the whole story about the genealogy room and the bookshelf falling on me.

“And you didn’t see anyone?” he asked when I’d finished. “Hear anyone?”

“Not really. I heard the door open and shut once, and I heard some scuffing sound, but I brushed it off. The shelves were wood, so they made lots of settling, groaning noises. I chalked the other noises up to that. I never saw anyone.”

“And this bookshelf just toppled? Aren’t they bracketed together or bolted to the floor?”

“As a matter of fact, I checked while I was lying flat on my face, and yes, the shelves were bolted to the floor but not to one another.”

He shook his head, concern etched on his face. “You’re lucky you only turned your ankle.”

“Lucky seems to be my middle name.”

“So you were on your way back from the library when I saw you?” he asked.

Before I could respond, the waitress brought my ploughman’s platter. And okay, yes, it probably was big enough for two, but I knew I would have no problem finishing the whole thing. I made myself a sandwich from two thick slices of bread, some fresh ham, two chunks of cheese, a tomato slice and various condiments.

After savoring a few luscious bites, I finally lost the debate with myself and related the whole story of my improbable kidnappers.

Derek listened with outward patience, then said adamantly, “Let me see the business card.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Did those men frighten you?”

I pursed my lips, considering whether to answer or not, but finally relented. “Yes, they did at first. I was terrified. But after a few minutes of driving around and talking, they seemed more like my three brothers than any thugs I’ve ever seen. They were cute, too.”

Derek frowned and I waved that statement away. “Never mind. Anyway, I realized they just needed to talk.”

“By dragging you off the street and kidnapping you?”

“Well, when you put it like that…” I dabbed my mouth with my napkin. “But I was never in any danger.”

“You didn’t know that,” he said.

“I admit I experienced a minute or two of terror.”

“May I see the card, please?”

“I don’t want to press charges,” I insisted, spreading mayonnaise on another slice of bread. “They made their point and I appreciated it.”

“Fine,” he said, holding out his hand. “But if I need a doctor, I want to know who not to call.”

“Good point.” I would probably regret it, but I pulled the card out of my pocket and handed it to him.

He rubbed his thumb against the grain. “Good quality,” he mused.

“I thought the same thing.”

“Yes, you would,” he said absently. “An MD with the Royal College of Surgeons. What’s a surgeon doing terrorizing young ladies on the streets of Edinburgh?”

“Just making his case, I guess.”

He put the card in his pocket. “I’ll hold on to this.”

I waved my fork at him. “If I find out you sicced the police on them, I’ll be very put out with you.”

He folded his arms across his chest. “I’ll have to live with that.”

I took a bite of pickle, then shook my head. “Can’t trust anyone.”

“It’s a sad truth,” he said, moving close to wrap his arm around my shoulder. I closed my eyes and leaned against him for a long moment. I could’ve stayed there all day, but he’d pulled his cell phone out with his free hand.

“Finish your lunch,” he murmured, then pressed a button on the phone. I wasn’t surprised when he greeted Angus MacLeod, told him about my library mishap, and asked him to meet us right away.

“Don’t you dare tell him about the Freemasons,” I warned when he ended the call.

“They’re the least of your worries, darling.”

“Perry McDougall has an alibi,” MacLeod said. “He’s been working in his booth at the fair all day.”

So Perry wasn’t my library attacker.

My shoulders fell. “Are you sure?”

MacLeod had arrived only minutes ago to interview me in Derek’s elegant penthouse suite. That’s right, Derek had rented the penthouse suite. The man had quite the expense account. Of course, since he owned his own security company, it probably wasn’t a problem convincing the boss he needed all this space.

I wondered if the Bentley limo we’d driven in was his company’s car or provided by the palace. It wouldn’t surprise me to find out it was his own car. He really was a conspicuous consumer.

But the suite was the most private place he could think of in which to have a conversation with MacLeod, so I was grateful he’d offered. Before MacLeod arrived, Derek had poured me a beer from the well-stocked minibar, then forced me to sit back on the luxurious white sectional sofa while he slipped off my boot and checked my ankle.

“It’s slightly swollen, but not broken,” he reported, patting my ankle gently. “Just a bit twisted, I suspect.”

Was he talking about me or my ankle?

He grinned, having read my mind. “You’re more than a bit twisted.”

“And you’re so cute.” I’d said it to be sarcastic, but it came out in a breathy whisper. Good grief.

“Rest,” he said, and leaned in and kissed my forehead. Then he tucked a plush, soft afghan around me, and it must’ve taken only seconds before I passed out. At MacLeod’s arrival, I awoke feeling groggy and disoriented.

Always the delightful guest, that was me.

Before getting into the library attack, I told MacLeod about my discussion with Jack from Dublin earlier that day at the Fair Haven booth. “He was one of the people Kyle consulted about the book, but he couldn’t have killed him.”

“And why not?” MacLeod asked, humoring me.

“He’s shorter than me, and thinner,” I explained. “And I’d guess he was in his late sixties. I doubt he’d have the strength to bludgeon someone of Kyle’s size. And besides, he was excited to be getting a look at the book. Why would he kill Kyle?”

As MacLeod wrote out his notes, something else occurred to me. “Did you ever find out who called Kyle’s cell phone?”

Angus and Derek exchanged looks, something they did a lot when I was around. Derek merely lifted one eyebrow, and Angus sighed. “The call was made from a disposable cell,” he admitted. “Untraceable.”

“Damn it,” I muttered. Whoever owned that phone was probably Kyle’s killer.

“My sentiments exactly,” Angus said, then requested a full report on the library fiasco. When I was finished, he flipped his notepad to another page. “As far as your suspicion that Perry McDougall followed you to the library, my men interviewed a number of vendors near McDougall’s booth, as well as one of his employees.”

“Yes?” I said.

He sat across from me in a soft, buttercream leather chair, with his legs crossed in the manly style of one ankle propped on his other knee. “Everyone swore McDougall has been there all day. His alibi is ironclad.”

I wondered about that. “Was Minka LaBoeuf one of the employees interviewed? Because she would lie at the drop of a hat.”

He checked his notes and I saw his eyebrows lift. I took that to mean he’d found Minka’s name.

“I can’t reveal the names of witnesses,” he said gruffly. “But why would you accuse this person of lying?”

“She hates me,” I said gloomily. “If she knew it would screw me up, she’d lie without batting an eye.”