Best of Nora Roberts Books 1-6: The Art of Deception / Lessons Learned / Mind Over Matter / Risky Business / Second Nature / Unfinished Business

“An emulation, Adam.”

“And are there any other…emulations in the Merrick Gallery?”

She gave him a long, cool look. “I’m trying not to be annoyed. All of Harriet’s paintings are authentic, as is her half of the Titian.”

“Why didn’t she replace it herself?”

“Because,” Kirby began and checked her watch. Time was slipping away from her. “Not only would it have been difficult for her to disappear from the party early as we did, but it would’ve been awkward altogether. The night watchman could report to Stuart that she came to the gallery in the middle of the night carrying a package. He might put two and two together. Yes, even he might add it up.”

“So what’ll the night watchman have to say about Kirby Fairchild coming into the gallery in the middle of the night?”

“He won’t see us.” Her smile was quick and very, very smug.

“Us?”

“Since you’re here.” She smiled at him again, and meant it. “I’ve told you everything, and being a gentleman you’ll help me make the switch. We’ll have to work quickly. If we’re caught, we’ll just brazen it out. You won’t have to do anything, I’ll handle it.”

“You’ll handle it.” He nodded at the drifting clouds. “We can all sleep easy now. One condition.” He stopped her before she could speak. “When we’re done, if we’re not in jail or hospitalized, I want to know it all. If we are in jail, I’ll murder you as slowly as possible.”

“That’s two conditions,” she muttered. “But all right.”

They watched each other a moment, one wondering how much would have to be divulged, one wondering how much could be learned. Both found the deceit unpleasant.

“Let’s get it done.” Adam gestured for her to go first.

Kirby walked across the grass and went directly to the main door. From the deep pocket of her cloak, she drew out keys.

“These two switch off the main alarm,” she explained as she turned keys in a series of locks. “And these unbolt the door.” She smiled at the faint click of tumblers. Turning, she studied Adam, standing behind her in his elegant dinner suit. “I’m so glad we dressed for it.”

“Seems right to dress formally when you’re breaking into a distinguished institution.”

“True.” Kirby dropped the keys back in her pocket. “And we do make a rather stunning couple. The Titian hangs in the west room on the second floor. The watchman has a little room in the back, here on the main floor. I assume he drinks black coffee laced with rum and reads pornographic magazines. I would. He’s supposed to make rounds hourly, though there’s no way to be certain he’s diligent.”

“And what time does he make them, if he does?”

“On the hour—which gives us twenty minutes.” She glanced at her watch and shrugged. “That’s adequate, though if you hadn’t pressed me for details we’d’ve had more time. Don’t scowl,” she added. She pressed her finger to her lips and slipped through the door.

From out of the depths of her pocket came a flashlight. They followed the narrow beam over the carpet. Together they moved up the staircase.

Obviously she knew the gallery well. Without hesitation, she moved through the dark, turning on the second floor and marching down the corridor without breaking rhythm. Her cape swirled out as she pivoted into a room. In silence she played her light over paintings until it stopped on the copy of the Titian that had hung in Adam’s room.

“There,” Kirby whispered as the light shone on the sunset hair Titian had immortalized. The light was too poor for Adam to be certain of the quality, but he promised himself he’d examine it minutes later.

“It’s not possible to tell them apart—not even an expert.” She knew what he was thinking. “Harriet’s a respected authority, and she couldn’t. I’m not sure the tests wouldn’t bear it out as authentic. Papa has a way of treating the paints.” She moved closer so that her light illuminated the entire painting. “Papa put a red circle on the back of the copy’s frame so they could be told apart. I’ll take the package now,” she told him briskly. “You can get the painting down.” She knelt and began to unwrap the painting they’d brought with them. “I’m glad you happened along,” she decided. “Your height’s going to be an advantage when it comes to taking down and putting up again.”

Adam paused with the forgery in his hands. Throttling her would be too noisy at the moment, he decided. But later… “Let’s have it then.”

In silence they exchanged paintings. Adam replaced his on the wall, while Kirby wrapped the other. After she’d tied the string, she played the light on the wall again. “It’s a bit crooked,” she decided. “A little to the left.”

“Look, I—” Adam broke off at the sound of a faint, tuneless whistle.

“He’s early!” Kirby whispered as she gripped the painting. “Who expects efficiency from hired help these days?”

In a quick move, Adam had the woman, the painting and himself pressed against the wall by the archway. Finding herself neatly sandwiched, and partially smothered, Kirby held back a desperate urge to giggle. Certain it would annoy Adam, she held her breath and swallowed.

The whistle grew louder.

In her mind’s eye, Kirby pictured the watchman strolling down the corridor, pausing to shine his light here and there as he walked. She hoped, for the watchman’s peace of mind and Adam’s disposition, the search was cursory.

Adam felt her trembling and held her tighter. Somehow he’d manage to protect her. He forgot that she’d gotten him into the mess in the first place. Now his only thought was to get her out of it.

A beam of light streamed past the doorway, with the whistle close behind. Kirby shook like a leaf. The light bounced into the room, sweeping over the walls in a curving arch. Adam tensed, knowing discovery was inches away. The light halted, rested a moment, then streaked away over its original route. And there was darkness.

They didn’t move, though Kirby wanted to badly, with the frame digging into her back. They waited, still and silent, until the whistling receded.

Because her light trembling had become shudder after shudder, Adam drew her away to whisper reassurance. “It’s all right. He’s gone.”

“You were wonderful.” She covered her mouth to muffle the laughter. “Ever thought about making breaking and entering a hobby?”

He slid the painting under one arm, then took a firm grip on hers. When the time was right, he’d pay her back for this one. “Let’s go.”

“Okay, since it’s probably a bad time to show you around. Pity,” she decided. “There are some excellent engravings in the next room, and a really marvelous still life Papa painted.”

“Under his own name?”

“Really, Adam.” They paused at the hallway to make certain it was clear. “That’s tacky.”

They didn’t speak again until they were hidden by the trees. Then Adam turned to her. “I’ll take the painting and follow you back. If you go over fifty, I’ll murder you.”

She stopped when they reached the cars, then threw him off balance with suddenly serious eyes. “I appreciate everything, Adam. I hope you don’t think too badly of us. It matters.”

He ran a finger down her cheek. “I’ve yet to decide what I think of you.”

Her lips curved up at the corners. “That’s all right then. Take your time.”

“Get in and drive,” he ordered before he could forget what had to be resolved. She had a way of making a man forget a lot of things. Too many things.

The trip back took nearly twice the time, as Kirby stayed well below the speed limit. Again she left the Porsche out front, knowing Cards would handle the details. Once inside, she went straight to the parlor.

“Well,” she mused as she looked at her father. “He seems comfortable enough, but I think I’ll just stretch him out.”

Adam leaned against the doorjamb and waited as she settled her father for the night. After loosening his tie and pulling off his shoes, she tossed her cape over him and kissed his balding head. “Papa,” she murmured. “You’ve been outmaneuvered.”

“We’ll talk upstairs, Kirby. Now.”

Straightening, Kirby gave Adam a long, mild look. “Since you ask so nicely.” She plucked a decanter of brandy and two glasses from the bar. “We may as well be sociable during the inquisition.” She swept by him and up the stairs.

Chapter 8