Читать книгу Bound by Dreams - Christina Skye - Страница 11

WET FERNS COVERED the ground. Broken stems from hard rain left a green smell that marked the passage of a man only hours before.

He followed the track, every sense fully alive. The prints held gravel bits from the coast, car oil, the rancid hint of grease.

More prints dotted the ground beneath the abbey’s stone fence. Here he stopped, gathering the smells like small stones, holding each until its meaning was locked into his mind.

The sun brushed his shoulders and the stirring from the woods called to him, but he waited, gaining a clear impression of the men who had crossed the fence in the night.

Their footprints had the stink of beer about them even now. Spices clung to their shoes. Chemicals. Harsh cigarettes and the smell of seawater.

The mix burned through his blood. All of this he would remember.

Then he caught the softer trace of her—the woman who had come back to save him. His skin tightened in sharp response to the memory. He moved closer, testing the smells. Her footprints carried the clays of high mountains and the pine forests of France. Nothing of the sea marked her smell.

She had no scent connection with the men from the car.

Was there relief in the knowledge?

Either way, his search here was done. The sun had already passed to the far side of the valley.

He turned in a tight circle, hungry to know who the woman was, and what had formed her scent of regret and bitterness, mixed with her tears. She called to him and he had to know why.

There was only one way to find out.

Twilight was gathering as something jumped the stone fence near the road, following the woman’s trail down into the streambed.

KIERA WINCED as she closed her laptop.

Her last e-mail to her sister was done. If Kiera didn’t keep in frequent contact, her sister had vowed to come after her, for backup and moral support. Standing up, she stretched carefully. There were cuts on her arms and legs and her face was scraped in three places. She knew she had come close to serious harm at the hands of her attackers. The responsible thing to do?

Simple.

Call the local police and report everything, including the fact that she had been trespassing at the time.

Right. And how she would explain that? Next would come the questions about her own background and what had drawn her onto Draycott grounds at night.

She shoved a hand through her short, curly hair. The color of a good crème-brûlée topping, her mother always said. Kiera was the only child with hair that wasn’t jet-black, and her father had teased her once with the possibility that she was a changeling.

Hard to believe that she had cried for a week, even after all of her family tried desperately to explain it had been a joke.

But now her mother was gone. Her father, always so hale, had lost his spirit after her mother’s death. Now he lived with full-time care, and a short walk left him at the edge of exhaustion. After two heart attacks, his doctors had warned the children to prepare for the worst.

Kiera couldn’t imagine losing him, not so close on the heels of her mother. But life had taught her that change came whether you liked it or not. She had begun to prepare, hoarding her years of rich memories like a shield.

When she saw that her e-mail had been sent, Kiera shut down her laptop. Maddy was probably curled up by the nearest window, reading some scholarly research text on the properties of sound. The subject put Kiera to sleep, but her sister was an expert on acoustics. The two had always been very close and, despite her mother’s request, Maddy had not wanted Kiera to come on this errand.

But a deathbed promise could not be ignored.

Kiera was to collect an old letter and a box from the abbey’s conservatory. Both had been precious to her mother, left behind during her midnight flight from her home. Her mother had desperately wanted to be assured that they would be restored to her family at her death, and Kiera was determined to honor that wish.

Restless at memories of home, Kiera paced the room, then pulled back the bright chintz curtains. Her hotel was small, only fifteen rooms, but it was the closest place she could find to the abbey. She had already spent three days walking the local streets and driving the quiet lanes while she planned her best point to climb the abbey fence.

For all the good her plans had done.

And now a return trip to Draycott Abbey was the last thing Kiera wanted to do. She hated the memories and emotions being stirred up. On top of that, three men were walking free tonight, though they should have been behind bars for assault and attempted kidnapping. One call would send the police out after them. It was the responsible thing to do.

Kiera stalked to the phone. Picking up the receiver, she dialed the operator.

And then she’d say what?

She happened to be driving by and was attacked?

Too many questions.

Frowning, she held the phone. Maybe she could make an anonymous call. But those were traced, too.

With a sigh, she put down the phone. She would make a call from a pay phone in the next county, choosing a crowded spot where no one was likely to remember her face. At least the crime would be reported. But not until after she was finished and ready to leave.

One decision made.

That left the question of her return visit—and how she would get back out undiscovered.

She spun around at the chime of the cell phone resting on her bed. A quick look at the number had her smiling. “Maddy? I just e-mailed you.”

“I’m not at my computer, and I wanted to be sure you were all right.”

“I’m fine. I should be packing up and heading out tomorrow.”

Kiera’s sister took a quick breath. “You found the things?”

“Not yet. But I’ve been on the grounds, and I know my way now.”

“No problems?”

Trust Maddy to keep probing. “No,” Kiera lied. “Just—”

“Just what? Kee, are you okay? You sound upset.”

“I’m a little restless, that’s all. It’s complicated.” Kiera wouldn’t say more. Her sister would worry too much.

“What’s complicated?”

“Visiting here. The abbey is like every postcard of a perfect English estate. And the roses.” Kiera paced the room. “Everything’s so beautiful that you forget what lies beneath the surface. The secrets and the pain.”

“Then finish and get out of there. That’s an order,” Maddy said sharply. “If you aren’t done by tomorrow, I’m coming to your hotel.”

“Stop worrying. I’m the practical one, remember? You can count on me to get this done without a hitch. But I’d better go, Maddy.”

“Just keep me updated.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

Kiera was smiling when she hung up.

Outside her window, the moon was huge, and cool light covered the garden that bordered this side of the hotel. Kiera opened the door to her patio and was instantly engulfed in the lavender fragrance that would always spell England to her. The rich, sweet scent made her a little dizzy.

Though she would have given a fortune to be on her way home to her family in the rugged stone house in the Pyrenees, something about the moonlight tugged on her senses. As if there were hopes and dreams that waited this night, if only she dared to accept them.

But Kiera had never had time for dreams. Life was too full of adventure to sit still and let empty images slip through your head. She was always on the move, always exploring the next village and valley, putting together adventure tours for one of Europe’s best known travel companies.

She was determined to have her own company by the time she was thirty. If she kept building her client list, she might succeed sooner. And building a company didn’t come through idle imagination.

As she stood at the window, she saw a movement in the trees beyond the garden. Something blended into the restless shadows beneath the oaks at the far end of the village. Kiera’s breath checked as she saw the movement come again.

And then the shape—whatever it was—folded back into the shadows.

Probably just a fox. She’d seen two since her arrival. Or maybe it was no more than her imagination. She’d been jumpy from the first moment she’d set foot on English soil, jumpier still when she’d walked along the road and climbed the fence onto Draycott land.

Odd, she’d half imagined there had been a man in the woods. The sense of being watched had grown as she’d crossed the meadow above the moat.

She glared out at the darkness. There was no one in the trees beyond the garden now. No reason for the little hairs to stand up along her arms.

Yet the feeling that she was not alone grew stronger. The darkness seemed to reach out to her.

Kiera reined in her errant thoughts. She had escaped. She was safe now. No one in this hotel or in this country knew her connection to the Draycotts and she meant to keep it that way. She would make her plans well. There would be no mistakes the following night.

And after that she would be done with the Draycott family forever.

IT HAD TAKEN Calan less than an hour to find her.

Her prints had led him straight to a small dirt road and the tire tracks of a parked car. It had been easy enough to follow the car’s unique scent, crossing two small hamlets until the car stopped in a village with an isolated hotel at the far end.

Her room was on the north side, facing a garden full of lavender.

He saw her light and the blurred movements inside. Then her patio door opened, and he caught her scent. Cinnamon and pine trees. Mountain hills after rain. There was strength to her body as she leaned against the door, staring up at the moon.

Lost in thought.

Stubborn. Angry. Confused.

All those emotions clung, carried in her scent, clear for him to read. She was alone in the room, too.

The thought pleased him.

He stepped closer, silent in the shadows, his head raised. Every time she took a step her fragrance drifted toward him like a gentle touch. She was restless. He could almost feel the nervous energy slide from her as he stood, silent and watchful behind a row of topiary plants.

She turned slowly in the moonlight. Her arms crossed over her chest. “Is…someone out there?”

He didn’t move. Wind stirred his fur. Her eyes were trained on the spot where he waited, motionless.

“Hello?”

She blew out a breath and leaned her forehead against the door frame. Exhaustion seemed to grip her. He saw her shoulders slump.

What weight did she carry? he wondered. What fueled this kind of anger and regret?

He wanted to turn away. He needed to make one more effort to trace the attackers’ car, which he’d lost near a major highway exchange on the far side of the valley.

He had to put her out of his mind before this strange attraction pulled him any closer.

Yet he didn’t move.

Moonlight brushed the patio outside room fifteen. He felt the sharp twist of muscles, tensed to hunt. One leap would bring him closer.

One more leap and she would be sprawled on the floor beneath him.

Dazed. Submissive.

Open to whatever he chose.

A low growl began at the bottom of his chest as hunger drove sharp nails through every nerve end. He wanted in a way he had never wanted before.

But submissive was not how he pictured her or needed her.

He looked up at the sound of a latch closing. The glass door was shut now, the curtains drawn. Her smell remained, drifting out in a subtle torment to his senses.

And then he saw her silhouette as she tugged off her robe. Slowly her body was revealed in shadows that burned into his memory…

Hunger blocked all logic, all control.

He fought the urge to hunt and possess. Muscles twisted, claws dragging through the soft earth.

Slowly control returned. Hunger was shoved deep. Loyalty to a friend made him turn, slip through the lavender. Then he vanished into the night.