Читать книгу The Edge of Eternity - Amanda Stevens - Страница 10

One week later…

The drive from Seattle to Fernhaven took longer than Elizabeth expected, but the scenery along the way was magnificent. The weather had been warm and sunny when they’d left the city, but as they reached Mount Baker, the sun disappeared and a fine mist descended over the car. She could feel the outside temperature dropping and she reached in the backseat for her jacket.

“I can turn on the heater if you’re cold,” Paul offered.

“No, that’s okay. I just need something on my arms.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” She seemed to be saying that a lot lately, and Elizabeth wondered if anyone who knew her would ever be truly convinced that she was well now. Or at least on the road to recovery.

Ever since her breakdown she’d been treated with kid gloves by everyone around her. Her family, her friends, her business partner. But especially her husband. Sometimes the way Paul looked at her set Elizabeth’s teeth on edge. It was almost as if he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

She understood their concern. In her darkest hour she’d taken an overdose of sleeping pills, but that had been over a year ago. And Elizabeth couldn’t honestly say that she’d meant to end her own life. She’d been in a bad place, that was for sure, but she was much stronger now. Even though there were still times when she worried about her mental stability, she suspected that the music, the slamming doors and the scattered toys in Damon’s room were all signs from her subconscious that she hadn’t fully accepted her son’s death yet.

Elizabeth also knew that she would never again try to take her own life. She wouldn’t do that to the people who loved her. Life was precious, even without Damon. It just wasn’t the same.

Rousing herself from her reverie, she realized that she and Paul had spoken very little during the trip. The two-hour car ride was a mirror of the way the past week had gone. They’d avoided each other as much as possible. Elizabeth made sure she stayed in the bedroom until she heard Paul leave for work in the mornings and then she usually turned in before he got home. Which wasn’t hard to do since he’d been putting in a lot of long days. She wanted to believe that he was at the office getting ready for this trip, but she still couldn’t get the image of Paul and Nina Wilson out of her head.

She told herself repeatedly that Paul’s relationship with the woman was none of her business. She’d asked him for a divorce. He could do what he wanted.

But the divorce wasn’t final. Far from it. They weren’t even separated yet, so technically their marriage license was still binding. To her, at least. No matter how many times she tried to justify Paul’s behavior, Elizabeth was still bothered by his seemingly callous disregard of the promises he’d made to her thirteen years ago.

Of course, it was entirely possibly that his relationship with Nina Wilson was a purely professional one. All Elizabeth had to do was ask him. She felt sure that no matter what he said, she’d be able to read the truth in his eyes. But she didn’t ask him for one simple reason—she didn’t want to know.

Forcing her thoughts away from Paul and Nina Wilson, Elizabeth returned to her reading. She’d brought along the Fernhaven brochure and some of the materials she’d printed from the Internet to study before she’d begun designing the uniforms.

The place had a fascinating, albeit tragic, history. The original hotel had been built in the thirties as a luxury retreat for the rich and famous. On the night of the grand-opening ball a fire broke out and spread through the floors, completely engulfing the main ballroom. Hundreds had perished. At the time it had been a calamity on par with the Titanic and later the Hindenburg, but with the war in Europe heating up and the attack on Pearl Harbor a few years later, the fire and its tragic consequences had been forgotten.

Over the years various parties had expressed interest in rebuilding the hotel, but it wasn’t until two years ago that Annika Wallenburg, a descendant of the original owner, had finally gotten the ball rolling.

Paul’s firm had been instrumental in bringing the investors together, but it had been a risky venture, to say the least. “Why were you so interested in the Fernhaven project?” Elizabeth asked suddenly.

He lifted a hand from the steering wheel to rub the back of his neck. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason, really. I’ve been reading about the fire,” she explained. “I already knew about it, but I’d forgotten some of the details. Weren’t the investors afraid the history of the place might be a little off-putting to prospective guests?”

He glanced at her with a slight smile. “You mean the ghosts?”

“Ghosts?” The back of her neck tingled as she turned to stare at him. “What are you talking about?”

“Fernhaven is supposed to be haunted. Surely you must have run across that little tidbit in all your reading.”

“No, I don’t think I did,” Elizabeth murmured. She gazed out the window for a moment.

No reason Paul’s revelation should upset her, she told herself firmly. It was just a legend. Fernhaven wasn’t really haunted because ghosts didn’t exit. There was a perfectly logical explanation for everything that had happened to her in the past eighteen months. Grief could do strange things to a person’s mind…

“To answer your question,” Paul said, “the fire was seventy years ago, so no, the history of Fernhaven wasn’t a particular concern to the investors. But even if it had been, Annika Wallenburg was determined to rebuild the hotel. She would have continued the project with or without outside backing, even if it meant she had to use every cent of her personal fortune.”

“Why did it mean so much to her?” Elizabeth asked curiously. “She’s a young woman, isn’t she? She wasn’t even around when the original Fernhaven was built.”

“No, but her grandmother, Ingrid, was. Ingrid’s engagement to her childhood sweetheart was to be announced on the night of the grand-opening ball. He’d just arrived from Stockholm, where he’d been attending university. They hadn’t seen each other in nearly a year. And then the fire broke out. Somehow Ingrid managed to escape, but her fiancé was killed.”

“How sad.” Elizabeth felt a strange, tragic kinship with the woman, even though she’d never even met her.

“Ingrid later married and had children, but according to Annika, her grandmother never got over her first love. Annika’s parents were killed when she was just a child, and her grandmother took her in and raised her. Annika is very devoted to her grandmother and determined to carry out her last wish.”

“Which is?”

“That she be allowed to live out the rest of her days at Fernhaven.”

“Wow,” Elizabeth said. “Building a hotel is quite a tribute, especially considering the financial risks involved.”

“Money really wasn’t a concern. Annika is a very wealthy woman. Not only is she heiress to the Wallenburg fortune, but she’ll also inherit a great deal of money from her grandmother’s family. As I said, she would have used her own fortune to rebuild Fernhaven if necessary. However, the business prospectus she put together was a sound one. The location in the Cascades is excellent for skiing in the winter and hiking in the summer, and with the popularity of luxury spas and retreats, Fernhaven’s natural hot springs and mineral baths are an extremely marketable attraction. And the scenery is breathtaking. I don’t believe there’s anything quite like it anywhere in the world.”

“You’re proud of it,” Elizabeth said softly.

He gave her a surprised look. “I guess I am. But now it’s on to the next project.”

“And Boyd Carter.”

His smiled disappeared. “Yes. Boyd Carter could still be a problem, but that’s not for you to worry about. Just relax and enjoy the weekend.”

Elizabeth started to remind him that she had accompanied him on this trip as a favor, not for pleasure. But what was the point in arguing over such a minor point? Besides, he was right. The scenery was gorgeous, and surprisingly she really was enjoying herself.

As they turned off the main road onto the curving drive, Elizabeth found herself holding her breath in anticipation. And then, as they rounded a turn, Fernhaven materialized like magic before them. Rising out of the mist, the hotel appeared to float like the spirits who supposedly dwelled within the resurrected walls.

The sloping lawn—what she could see of it through the haze—was emerald-green and adorned with topiaries, statues and fountains surrounded by lush dripping ferns. The building itself was multistoried and of a light gray color that blended with the mist. The spired roof and arched windows created a dreamy, fairy-tale feel, but the ornate carvings beneath the ledge were almost gothic. It was a beautiful hotel, mystical and serene, but the shadowy forest lurking in the background gave it an air of foreboding.

Paul slowed the car and Elizabeth stared through the windshield at the hotel.

“Quite a place, isn’t it?” he said proudly.

“It’s beautiful,” Elizabeth breathed. “Magnificent. But…”

“But what?” Paul asked with an edge in his voice.

Elizabeth caressed her arms with her hands. “I don’t know. I feel a strange sense of déjà vu. Like I’ve been here before, but I know I haven’t. I guess it must be the pictures I’ve been studying.”

“Actually,” Paul said, “you have been here before. You don’t remember?”

She turned sharply. “When?” Ever since the accident she’d experienced gaps in her memory. Doctors had told her the condition wasn’t unusual after a severe head trauma, but the lapses always took her by surprise.

“We were here a few weeks before the accident,” Paul said quietly. “Damon was on a camping trip with Nicholas Braiden and his dad. You and I drove up for the ground-breaking ceremony. You and Frankie had already been given the contract to design the uniforms and you wanted to get a feel for the place.”

“It’s so strange that I can’t remember—” And then it came back to her. They’d driven up on a Friday night and stayed in a nearby bed-and-breakfast. Elizabeth had been both nervous and excited at the prospect of spending a weekend alone with her husband. They’d had dinner at a quiet out-of-the-way restaurant and then gone straight back to the room. After they’d made love, they’d even talked about having another baby.

That night seemed like a dream to Elizabeth. A lovely, distant dream. What seemed more real to her was the ground-breaking ceremony the next day. The ruins had been cleared away by then and bulldozers had leveled the property. She remembered now seeing a man at the service, a tall, aristocratic stranger dressed all in black who’d stood apart from the crowd. He didn’t seem to be connected to the ceremony, but Elizabeth had the strongest feeling that he belonged there. That he had a purpose for being there. And when his gaze met hers, an odd mixture of fear and excitement had gripped her.

She’d forgotten all about that day. And about the man.

“Elizabeth?”

“I’m fine,” she said a bit tersely before Paul could ask if she was all right.

His mouth thinned and he turned his attention back to the road. Pulling to the front of the hotel, he parked the car as two valets came hurrying to open their doors and a bellman took charge of the luggage.

As they walked up the steps, Paul put his hand on Elizabeth’s elbow. The gesture was as natural as breathing to him. The slight contact didn’t mean anything, but for some reason Elizabeth had the urge to pull away from him…as if someone was willing her to pull away.

At the top of the steps she paused to glance over her shoulder. In spite of the mist, a handful of people strolled about the grounds, but no one seemed to notice her. Turning, she followed Paul into the lobby, an opulent, lofty space with marble floors, trickling fountains and sparkling chandeliers.

A clerk wearing a black blazer emblazoned with a tiny green fern leaf smiled as they approached the front desk. “Welcome to Fernhaven. May I have your names, please?”

“Mr. and Mrs. Paul Blackstone.”

The clerk typed their names into the computer. After a few moments he asked them to sign the registration form, then produced two keys. “You’ll be in guest cottage five,” he said. “It’s the farthest one from the hotel. Very cozy and private. It even has two fireplaces.”

“Guest cottage?” Elizabeth said in surprise. “We aren’t staying in the main hotel?”

The clerk seemed to be affronted by her question. “The cottages are extremely desirable, I assure you. We were swamped with requests—”

“Do you have something in the main hotel?” Paul cut in, but Elizabeth quickly put her hand on his arm.

“No, it’s okay. I was just surprised, that’s all. I didn’t realize the hotel had guest cottages,” she said to the clerk. “I’m sure they’re lovely.”

“Number five is an exact replica of the original,” he said proudly. “Right down to the linens.”

“In that case, I can’t wait to see it.” Elizabeth tried to muster up the correct amount of enthusiasm to soothe the clerk’s ruffled feathers. He appeared somewhat appeased as he finished checking them in.

Another bellman led them across the lobby and through an outside door where golf carts were lined up beneath an awning. Stowing their luggage on the back, he got behind the wheel and waited for Elizabeth and Paul to climb aboard. Then, letting out the clutch, he deftly maneuvered the cart along a narrow, twisting trail past a row of cottages. Elizabeth had to look closely to see them. They were spaced far apart for privacy and set so far back from the trail as to almost disappear in the woodsy setting.

Pulling up in front of the last one, the bellman got out to open the front door. After Elizabeth and Paul entered, he went back out to collect their luggage, which he placed in the master bedroom. Wishing them a pleasant stay, he accepted Paul’s discreet tip, then disappeared.

Alone with her husband again, Elizabeth glanced around. The clerk had been right. The cottage was very elegant and charming, furnished in autumn shades of gold, green and terra-cotta. The silk drapery and striped upholstery were luxurious almost to the point of decadence, and when she went to check out the bedroom, she discovered that no detail had been spared in that room either, including logs stacked in the fireplace.

The bed was a large four-poster queen with a soft chenille spread and lots of cloudlike pillows that were instantly inviting. The rest of the furniture was dark and heavy, but the French doors leading out to a private terrace kept the room from being too dark and oppressive.

Elizabeth walked over and opened one of the doors. “I can hear a waterfall,” she said absently.

“It’s only about a quarter of a mile or so from here,” Paul said as he came up behind her. “Just along that trail.” He nodded in the direction of the path they’d come up. “Maybe we can hike up and see it tomorrow, if you feel like it.”

Elizabeth swallowed back the panic that rose in her throat. Did he really expect her to do couple-type things with him this weekend? That wasn’t part of the deal. He’d said all she had to do was show up here so that Boyd Carter could see them together. Was he changing the rules on her now that they were here? And if so, what else might he expect of her?

As Elizabeth turned from the door, her gaze lit on the four-poster. It was the kind of bed one could sink into, nestled in the arms of a lover….

She swallowed again as she turned back to Paul. He hadn’t noticed that her attention had been caught by the bed, thank goodness. He was too busy picking up his suitcase and heading for the door. “I’ll take the small bedroom. You’ll be more comfortable in here.”

“There’s another bedroom? I didn’t notice one.”

“It’s on the other side of the living room,” Paul said. “The door was closed. That’s probably why you didn’t notice.”

“But…how did you know it was there?” Elizabeth idly twisted a button at the top of her sweater. “No one said anything about two bedrooms.”

He glanced away. “I’ve been up here before. I’m familiar with the layout.”

He’d been up here before? Alone…or with a companion?

Elizabeth watched him leave the room. When she heard him moving about on the other side of the cottage, she opened the French doors wider and stepped out on the terrace.

The flagstones beneath her feet were slippery from the fog, and she took care as she walked about. The woods encroached to the very edge of the terrace, the giant, lacy firs casting a deep shadow over the space. It was colder out here, too, and the sound of the waterfall pounded an uneasy rhythm in the distance.

Elizabeth could see the trail they’d come up, and where it led back into the trees, the mist thickened and swirled. For a moment the fog appeared to take on a human form, and then with a start Elizabeth realized that she really was seeing a man. He was walking toward the woods, but just before the shadows swallowed him, he turned. Elizabeth couldn’t see his face, but she knew that he was looking at her. A chill slid over her, and she quickly went inside and locked the door.

After hanging her clothes in the roomy closet, she carried her toiletries into the bathroom, a luxurious, marble affair with a claw-foot tub large enough to accommodate two.

A bath sounded like a wonderful idea, Elizabeth decided. She sat on the edge of the tub as she turned on the taps. The hotel had supplied a generous cache of bath salts and spa treatments, and as she dumped some into the running water, the fragrance floated on the air like a dream.

She lit some candles, then quickly shed her clothing. Sinking down into the steamy bubbles, she lay her head back against the tub and let her muscles completely relax. She was only a blink away from dozing off when the room suddenly chilled. The candles flickered in the draft, and she sat up in alarm.

“Paul?” she called nervously. “Is that you?”

He didn’t answer, but Elizabeth decided he must have gone out to the terrace for a breath of fresh air. How else to explain the draft?

Still, she couldn’t shake her uneasiness, and climbing out of the tub, she quickly dried off and wrapped herself in a thick terry-cloth robe. Tying the sash, she walked into the bedroom and checked the terrace doors. They were still closed and locked, and as she moved into the living room, she could see nothing amiss there either.

Paul’s door was ajar, and she went over to knock, but then noticed that he was stretched out on his bed asleep. He looked so peaceful, she hesitated to wake him. One leg hung off the side of the bed, and an arm was thrown over his face to shield it from the grayish light that filtered through the window. He appeared to be asleep, but as Elizabeth watched, he stirred and dropped his arm to his side. Rather than rousing, he seemed to settle more deeply into his slumber.

Elizabeth wasn’t quite sure why she did it, but she crossed the room and dropped to her knees beside the bed. Resting her chin on her folded arms, she watched him sleep.

He had become a stranger to her, and yet his features were still so familiar. The thick, sweeping lashes she’d always envied. The well-shaped nose. The chiseled lips that still had the power to make her heart race.

For a moment she was overcome with the irresistible urge to lean over and press her mouth to those lips. She even moved her head toward him, and then that strange draft blew through the cottage again.

Getting to her feet, Elizabeth walked away from the bed to investigate. As she left Paul’s room, his cell phone began to ring. She paused just outside his door, knowing that she shouldn’t listen but unable to help herself.

She heard the bedsprings creak as he rolled over and reached for the phone. “Hello?” he said sleepily. He listened for a moment. “We got in a little while ago. Where are you?”

Another silence. Then he said, “No, it’s best if you stay where you are. I’ll see you in a little while.”

He hung up and Elizabeth hurried back to her own bedroom, the source of the draft all but forgotten.

She had something else on her mind now—like who had been on the other end of Paul’s phone conversation. She had a funny feeling that she already knew.

PAUL COULDN’T BELIEVE he’d slept so long. He’d only meant to lie down for a few moments to rest, and then the next thing he knew, he’d awakened to the scent of Elizabeth’s perfume. He’d been dreaming about her, he supposed. Imagining that she had come to him the way she used to, soft and warm and fragrant from her bath. Her blue eyes dark and hooded with desire as she reached for him…

Getting up, he stretched, then glanced at his watch. He had fifteen minutes to shower and dress before the welcome cocktail party got under way in one of the small ballrooms. If he was late, he doubted anyone would notice. On the other hand, Boyd Carter valued promptness almost as much as he did family.

Wincing at the way Carter had him jumping through hoops, Paul went in to take his shower. He emerged a few minutes later and quickly dressed in a dark suit and silk tie. Then he crossed the living room to check on Elizabeth.

Her door was open, and he could see her standing at the French doors, staring out into the darkness. Instead of knocking, Paul hovered on the threshold watching her. He could see her reflection in the glass and thought with a catch in his chest that she was as beautiful now as she had been thirteen years ago when they’d first met.

She’d been a typical University of Chicago college girl with her torn jeans and sneakers. She’d worn her hair natural back then, all curly and disheveled and hanging to her waist. It wasn’t until she’d zeroed in on fashion design as a career that she’d cut her hair and transformed herself from an unkempt coed to the hip, sophisticated young woman she still was today.

She’d used a straightener on her hair, and it hung like a glossy curtain about her shoulders. The style was sleek and glamorous, but Paul still preferred all those wild curls. He’d never told her that, though. She was beautiful however she wore her hair.

The dress she had on was a simple black sheath that followed the narrow column of her figure, clinging subtly to her curves and dropping to just below her knees. Her feet were encased in the high heels she favored. The look was elegant, understated and sexy.

She turned and jumped when she saw him. Her hand flew to her throat. “Paul! I didn’t see you there.”

“Sorry. I…wanted to know if you’re ready to go.”

“Almost. I just have to put on my necklace.” She walked over to the dresser and picked up a strand of pearls.

Paul couldn’t seem to tear his gaze from her. The way she looked, the way she moved…how would he ever get over her?

She lifted the pearls to her neck and struggled for a moment with the clasp. Looking up, she said almost regretfully, “Do you mind?”

“No, of course, not.” He walked over and took the necklace from her as she swept back her hair.

He’d forgotten how enticing the back of a woman’s neck could be. Especially Elizabeth’s. Her skin was pale and unblemished. As smooth as silk.

His fingers brushed against that creamy skin as he finally managed to get the necklace fastened. The ornate clasp was adorned with a tiny pearl and the engraved initial of the famous maker, and Paul remembered that he’d given the strand to Elizabeth for Christmas the year he’d made partner at the firm. She’d cried when she’d opened the velvet box, and her reaction had almost brought him to tears.

“Got it,” he finally said, and Elizabeth stepped quickly away from him, letting her hair fall back into place.

“Now I’m ready,” she said briskly as she picked up her wrap and evening bag from the bed, then walked over and grabbed her key from the nightstand. “Just in case I want to come back before you do,” she explained, slipping the key into her purse.

They walked out together. Paul made sure the door was locked and then they headed down the walkway toward the hotel. It wasn’t far. He could see the lights blazing from the arched windows just ahead, but the paved walkway was slippery and not all that smooth.

He glanced down at Elizabeth’s heels. “Can you make it okay in those?”

“I’ve been wearing heels for years,” she said airily. “I’ll be fine—”

At that exact moment her heel caught on something and she stumbled. Paul grabbed her arm to steady her and suddenly they were standing face-to-face in the moonlight, cocooned in soft mist and silky darkness.

Her eyes were like cool, liquid crystals. They were the most beautiful eyes Paul had ever stared into, and for a moment he could have sworn he saw something—an invitation—in those glimmering depths.

He moved his head ever so slightly toward hers, and she stiffened, as if reading his intention in his eyes. “We should probably go. You don’t want to be late.”

The moment lost, Paul dropped his hand from her arm. “Yes, you’re probably right.” They walked along in silence the rest of the way. As they neared the terrace, he said, “So is Frankie coming up this weekend?”

“Yes, I think she planned to drive up late this afternoon. I don’t know if she’s here yet, though. I haven’t talked to her.”

“I’m surprised you both could get away from the shop this weekend,” Paul said.

Elizabeth slanted him a glance. “Worried about your investment?”

“No, not at all.”

They were nearing the pool area now. Paul could tell that the water was heated by the steam rising from the surface. The bluish glow from the underwater lights shimmered eerily on the undulating vapor.

“Paul…”

“Yes?”

She paused. “Regardless of what happens between us…it won’t have any bearing on the agreement you have with the shop, will it?”

“Why would it?”

She drew her shawl more tightly around her, as if suddenly chilled. “Frankie is a little concerned that you might try to call in the loan.”

He cocked his head slightly. “And what do you think?”

“I think you’re an honorable man. You wouldn’t do something like that.”

“Did you tell her that?”

“Of course I did. But she doesn’t know you like I do.”

At least she still had some faith in him, Paul thought grimly. He wanted to take comfort in her defense of his honor, but the very fact that she’d brought up her partner’s concerns meant that she wasn’t quite as sure of his intentions as she tried to let on.

“I have no desire to call in the loan,” he said coolly. “Why would I? If I let the interest accrue, I stand to make a killing.”