Читать книгу The Witch Of Stonecliff - Dawn Brown - Страница 11

Chapter Four

Fear surged through Eleri like a wave. She shoved at the arm banded around her waist, tried to twist free. His grip squeezed tighter. Rough stubble scraped her cheek. Warm breath whispered against the skin beneath her ear.

“It’s me, Eleri.” Kyle’s gravel voice penetrated the terror encapsulating her brain. She froze, heartbeat thundering inside her chest.

What was he doing here? Helping her, or Paskin? She held her breath, body tense, ready to resume fighting her way free.

“This is nothing to do with you, lad,” Paskin growled, light eyes never leaving her face. “Best see to your own business and leave us to finish ours.”

The arm at her waist loosened and Eleri curled her fingers into Kyle’s coat sleeve. Under normal circumstances, she would have swallowed glass before admitting she needed help, especially from a man she wished would go back to wherever he came from. But right then, she was ready to sink to her knees and beg Kyle not to leave her alone.

Instead of letting her go, he eased her behind him, putting himself between her and Paskin.

“Your business is finished,” Kyle ground out.

Stunned, Eleri stared at his broad back. When was the last time someone defended her?

The gesture hadn’t been lost on Paskin, either.

“You’re protecting her? Too bloody rich,” Paskin sneered. “She’s a murderer. She killed my boy.”

“Get in your car and get the hell out of here,” Kyle told him.

Paskin’s face darkened. “You listen to me—”

“No, you listen,” Eleri cut in, slipping out from behind Kyle so she stood shoulder to shoulder with him. As surreal as having this strange man coming to her defence was, she had to stand her ground. “Leave and don’t come back, or I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.”

Paskin ignored her, glare fixed on Kyle. “You remember this moment when the time comes.”

Eleri’s cheeks burned. Impotent fury circled inside her belly and left her nauseous. “Get out of here, Paskin!”

He didn’t spare her a glance, his attention solely on Kyle, but he retreated, walking backward toward the van. “She’ll kill you, too.”

Kyle’s expression remained stoic. He might have heard the stories about her, but now he’d come face-to-face with the reality. Surely he’d leave the lodge.

A pang too close to disappointment for her liking pierced her chest. Ridiculous. She wanted him gone before something happened—especially now.

Paskin pulled his truck onto the road and sped away, tires squealing. Eleri watched until his taillights disappeared around the bend in the road and the sound of his motor faded. Quiet descended like a soft blanket. Only the wind in the trees and birds twittering from branch to branch remained.

She released the breath she’d been holding, locked her shaking knees so she wouldn’t sink to the ground. She wanted to collapse into the cool, wet grass, wrap her arms around her middle and curl into a ball.

But she couldn’t. Not here. Not with an audience.

Instead, she slipped her hands into the rear pockets of her trousers so Kyle wouldn’t notice how badly they shook then met his furious scowl.

“What?” she asked, taking a step back. She wished her voice wasn’t so hoarse.

“Why in the hell didn’t you call for help?”

“I didn’t know you were there.” But thank God he had been. What would Paskin have done had he got his hands on her? Revulsion welled inside her.

“Are you all right?” Kyle’s expression softened and he reached for the side of her head. The white-hot sting had receded to a faint throb, but she jerked back before his fingertips could make contact. He frowned and his arm fell back to his side.

“I’m fine,” she told him, gingerly touching the side of her head, and forced a smile. “No bald spot.”

His mouth quirked slightly. “No, your hair is intact. You should report him.”

She snorted before she could stop herself. “Who would believe me over him?”

“I saw him.”

She shrugged. “He’d get a warning, nothing more. Even if someone believed Paskin threatened me—”

“He did a bit more than threaten you,” Kyle snapped.

“No one would side against the man. He thinks I murdered his son, and so does everyone else.”

She turned and gathered the cleanser and scrub brush. “I should get back. This doesn’t seem to be working, anyway.”

And the sooner she was away from Kyle Peirs’s scrutinizing gaze, the better. Her body trembled, limbs soft and rubbery. She was on the verge of shattering and she really didn’t want anyone to see.

“Did you?”

Kyle’s question stopped her midstride. “Did I what?”

“Did you kill his son?”

A thin jolt stabbed her belly. No one had ever asked her outright, not about Griffin or any of the others. Everyone assumed she had, even the police. They’d asked her a thousand questions over and over—when did you see him last, what did he say to you, what was your relationship—but no one had ever asked her if she’d taken a life.

She tilted her head and forced a hard smile. “Having doubts, Mr. Peirs?”

“Did you?”

She jerked a shoulder and turned away, infusing her voice with a light indifference she didn’t feel. “Not that I recall.”

She tossed the supplies into the back of the Land Rover.

A faint touch grazed her elbow. She jumped back and whirled around in one fluid motion.

“Eleri?” Kyle’s gaze shifted from her shaking hands to her face. “You don’t look well.”

“I’m fine.” She dug her keys out from her purse and hurried around to the driver’s door.

Exhaustion weighed down her limbs. The back of her nose tingled. She was crumbling, eroding like a rock cliff at the edge of the sea pounded by the waves over and over again. She had to get out of there.

She yanked open the car door, but hesitated before climbing in. He’d helped her. Defended her—and in front of Stephen Paskin of all people. No doubt the whole of Cragera Bay would know about what had happened—at least Paskin’s version—within the hour. If Kyle didn’t have a target on him when he took the lodge, he would now.

“I wish you’d leave.”

“I can’t,” he told her, his tone grave. “I wish you’d contact the police.”

She snorted. “The less interaction I have with them just now, the better. Thank you, though, for intervening.”

“You don’t have to thank me for doing what’s right.” Impatience edged his soft words.

With a nod, she climbed behind the wheel, pulled the door closed and started back to the house.

* * *

Kyle watched the Land Rover disappear down the drive. Dull fury still thudded behind his eyes. His hands itched to grab Paskin around the throat and pound the bastard’s face in.

The man had been massive compared to Eleri. Her expression, wild and terrified, had fueled the rage humming under Kyle’s skin. It had taken every ounce of self-control not to fly at Paskin.

He thought of Barber’s claims that Eleri was one of them, but she hardly looked the part of a hardened killer capable of slitting a man’s throat. No, she looked exhausted…hunted.

An odd sense of connection gripped him. After all, he’d seen a similar expression marring his own features.

She wanted him away from the lodge, even the village. Because she feared he’d put a finger of blame on her to the police, or she feared something happening to him?

A rhythmic buzz from his jacket pocket broke into his thoughts. His blasted mobile had been going off every few minutes the entire time he’d been with Eleri. He fished it out and his younger sister’s text glowed up at him from the screen.

Where r u?!!!

The most recent message of about a half dozen. A thin shaft of guilt punctured his resolve. God, what would he put his family through if something happened to him again?

He was under no delusion that his escape two years ago had been little more than a fluke. If his plan failed, he wouldn’t make it out alive—not again. He supposed that was the reason he’d told Sophie where he was really going and why. If the worst did happen, at least one person would know where he was, what he was doing.

I’m fine. Will ring u soon.

U have 15 min or I’m telling.

He snorted, Sophie’s response all too reminiscent of their childhood. They’d been the two younger ones. The two stuck with the hand-me-downs. The two bossed by the older ones. The two who never had a turn first. As they’d grown older, they’d formed short-lived alliances, an us against them determination when dealing with his older brother, Tom, and older sister, Grace. But they’d always been too quick to turn on each other for such unions to last.

His phone hummed in his hand and he looked down at the screen.

I want 2 hear ur voice.

Guilt squirmed in his stomach. Sophie hadn’t wanted him to come and, God forbid, anything happen to him. His sister would never forgive herself for her part in his scheme.

It wasn’t fair to put her in this position, forcing her to keep his secret, but there’d been no one else. He couldn’t tell his parents. Even if they wouldn’t have tried to stop him—and they would have, he was certain—he couldn’t worry them more than he had. His father must have aged ten years in the first three months after the attack, and his mother’s voice still trembled slightly when her gaze flitted to the scar across his throat.

As for Tom, he would have physically sat on Kyle to keep him from making this trip, and Grace’s fears would have come out in a stern lecture about responsibility that would somehow inflate the guilt already pumping through his veins. Only Sophie would keep his secret. Maybe out of nostalgia, remembering that tumultuous camaraderie of their childhood. Or maybe, two years younger than Kyle’s thirty, she was young enough to believe she could have her brother back. Either way, he didn’t want her worrying about him more than she already was. Besides, he wasn’t convinced she wouldn’t tell on him if he didn’t ring her.

He dialed her number as he emerged from the edge of the trees and started toward the lodge. Pinning his mobile awkwardly between his ear and shoulder, he unlocked the door and stepped inside.

Sophie answered before the first ring finished. “‘Lo?”

“It’s me.”

“Thank God,” she breathed. “I’ve been worried.”

Again that sharp twist in his gut. “Sorry. I was…” He’d been helping the woman who may have tried to kill him. He settled for, “I was speaking to someone.”

“When you didn’t answer me right away… I think this is a bad idea, Kyle.”

“I’m fine, really. You can’t panic every time I miss a text or a call. I sleep, you know? Shower. Go to the toilet.” He forced his tone to remain light, hoping he could draw a laugh from his little sister.

“I wish you’d never told me what you were up to. You’ve put me in a terrible position. If something happens to you, they’ll blame me.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to me,” he told her with more conviction than he felt. After all, she was his fail-safe, his just in case. And worse, she knew it.

* * *

As soon as Eleri locked her bedroom door behind her, she peeled off her sweater and t-shirt in a single yank over her head. Her skin, cold and clammy, itched as though tiny invisible bugs scurried over her flesh. She tugged off her trousers next, hopping on one foot to the nearest lamp and turning the switch. While she peeled off the rest of her clothes, she made her way to every light in the room until the space glowed brightly. The shadows chased safely to the far corners of the room.

In the en suite, she turned on the shower and waited for the water to heat. Once the bathroom steamed, the spray as hot as she could stand, she stepped into the big iron bathtub.

The nearly scalding water beat at her skin like tiny hot bullets, but Eleri barely noticed. She bent and snatched the soap from the wire basket on the edge of the tub and rubbed it hard over her body, determined to scrub the crawling sensation from her skin.

When her arm tired and her raw skin stung, her knees gave out and she sunk slowly to the bottom of the tub. Kneeling, she tucked her chin to her chest against the spray pelting the top of her head and back. Her ragged breathing sounded in her ears, and the trembling in her muscles eased.

What a bloody mess she was in. She needed to get away from this house, from the village. But she couldn’t. She was trapped like a fly in a spider’s web.

She lifted her leaden arm and turned the tap, shutting off the water. Exhaustion slammed into her like a wrecking ball. She wanted to climb into bed and pretend the day had never happened.

The last thing she wanted was to face Kyle again after he’d witnessed that mess with Paskin. What if he asked questions?

She should skip Hugh’s dinner. It was the butler’s bloody idea, after all. Instead she dragged on a clean pair of gray trousers and a white blouse and returned to the bathroom. She caught sight of her reflection in the mirror behind the sink and frowned. God, she was plain. From dull brown hair, the ends curling and brushing her shoulders, to dull brown eyes, to pale skin, her blouse and trousers as bland as the rest of her.

She couldn’t even change. All her clothes were the same, varying only in color—beige, gray, white. All perfectly practical had she still been serving customers in a flower shop, or when she mucked about in the garden, but nothing for company.

Since when did she care what she wore to dinner? She finished getting ready, and less than fifteen minutes later she was making her way down the hall to the stairs.

As she rounded the last corner in the passageway her gaze caught on the burned-out wall sconce at the top of the stairs. Warlow still hadn’t replaced it. Dark shadows stretched across the corridor like a veil. Eleri slowed, unease prickling along the back of her neck. The smell hit her next. Putrid and rotted, the stink wafted to her nose, filling her nasal cavities, trickling down her throat until she wanted to gag.

Whispered voices filled the air around her. The stench intensified.

Eleri whirled around and started back the way she’d come. She’d use the servants’ stairs again. She couldn’t manage this now. Not after her run-in with Paskin.

Once on the main floor, she hurried down the hall to the parlor, but Hugh’s voice stopped her outside the door. “We’re delighted you could join us tonight, Mr. Peirs. There are few men willing to dine with Eleri just now.”

Her cheeks flamed. Why in the hell would Warlow say something like that?

“I’m not worried,” Kyle replied.

“How strange. Why is that?”

“Even if Ms. James were indeed guilty, with an investigation going on, I should imagine her own self-preservation would keep me safe.”

“But surely you’ve heard the story of the frog and the scorpion? The frog carries the scorpion across the river and the scorpion stings him even though they both will die because the scorpion can’t help what it is.”

Dull fury pulsed behind her eyes. Eleri strode into the room and pinned Warlow with a hard stare. “In your cautionary tale where I’m the scorpion and Kyle the frog you left out yourself; the big, fat toad.”

Warlow let out a long suffering sigh from where he stood before the fireplace. “I meant nothing by it, Eleri. You had concerns about Mr. Peirs’s motivations for staying here while there was a murder investigation in the works. This dinner is to help alleviate those concerns.”

“So the abject humiliation was for my benefit. I should have realized.” Eleri lowered herself to the edge of the settee, half-tempted to sit on her hands to keep from throttling the butler. “You may leave and see to my father now.”

She risked a glance at Kyle. He watched her, a bemused smile curling his lips, lounging in a frayed chair near the fireplace. She suddenly wished she had worn something else.

He looked good in dark charcoal trousers, a white shirt untucked—which looked casual rather than sloppy—and navy jacket. His brown hair, a tad too long, was swept back away from his forehead, revealing the long lines of his face, straight nose, slightly pointed chin. Those smoke green eyes stood out bright against the dusky hue of his skin.

He really was an attractive man. The only thing marring all that perfection was the jagged scar at his neck.

“Your father’s resting,” Warlow said, dragging her attention away from Kyle. Probably not a bad thing; she was on the verge of staring. The butler nodded to the hissing baby monitor. “As he’s too ill to join you, he’s asked that I stand in for him while we get to know Mr. Peirs better.”

Of course he would. Warlow had been pulling her father’s strings for as long as she could remember. Even before his illness took root, Arthur James deferred to his butler for nearly every decision. Now that her father was bedridden, was it any wonder Warlow behaved as though he owned the place?

Though, for all she knew, once her father was gone Hugh Warlow might own Stonecliff. She doubted Arthur would leave the estate to either her or her sister. A small flicker or relief lit inside her at the possibility.

“What made you choose our neck of the woods, Mr. Peirs, given the current goings on?” Warlow asked.

Eleri frowned. Something had shifted between yesterday and today. Suspicion laced the butler’s false cheer.

“Money, quite frankly. You’re charging considerably less than other houses I looked at. While I’ve set some money aside for this little sabbatical, without a steady income I need to conserve where I can.”

“Did you quit your last job?” Eleri asked.

He shook his head. “A six month leave to say I gave it a shot.”

“Had you visited the area before?” Warlow’s chilly gaze was in complete contrast to the wide smile stretched across his face.

Kyle pinned him with an icy stare all his own. “Never.”

Eleri’s gaze shifted between the two men, the tension in the air thickening. Was Kyle lying? Had he been to Cragera Bay before, and did Warlow know him somehow?

“I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but that must have been a terrible injury to your neck.”

The younger man’s eyes narrowed, features hardening.

“Hugh!” Eleri snapped. She couldn’t believe how rudely he was behaving. Normally, he was a model of decorum. Pompous and condescending, but always well mannered.

“It was,” Kyle agreed.

“I’m sorry if I appear rude,” Warlow said.

“If?” Eleri cut in.

Warlow shot her an impatient glare. “Eleri was concerned that such an injury indicated ties to a criminal past.”

Her eyes rounded. Her face burned. Kyle swung his gaze to hers, one corner of his mouth curling up in a smirk. “Really?”

“No.” She shook her head. “That’s not true.”

“That’s exactly what you said.” Warlow’s white brows pulled into a frown, his voice annoyingly patient. “We want to ease your concerns about his character.”

“You had doubts about my character based on this?” Kyle traced a finger over the ridge of scar tissue.

Why couldn’t the floor open up and swallow her? “He’s taking what I said out of context. I meant that he didn’t know anything about you, that you could have had criminal ties.”

That didn’t sound any better.

Kyle let out a dry chuckle and lifted his right hand as if swearing an oath. “I promise this isn’t the result of any criminal activity on my part. Does that set your mind at ease?”

Not really. The best way to set her mind at ease would be to stop talking about it.

“What sort of accident, if you don’t mind me asking?” Warlow said.

Kyle stared at the man for a long moment before finally replying, “Traffic collision.”

“Did the recovery take long?”

“Yes.”

“I’m so sorry for what you must have gone through. Where about was the accident?”

“Outside London. Were you hoping to gather enough clues to verify my story? Do you need the date, the hour of the accident? Perhaps a look at my medical records?

Warlow turned his attention to her and asked, “Eleri?”

There wasn’t a hole big enough for her to crawl into. She shook her head.

A part of her wanted to blurt out that she had nothing to do with Warlow’s probing, but she had suspected him of a criminal past. So when had her opinion changed? When he came to her rescue with Steven Paskin?

“I’m sorry,” she told him.

His light green eyes held hers. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for.”

The low rasp of his voice shivered along her skin and a thin flutter tickled low in her belly. She frowned and dropped her gaze to the floor. What was that about? But she already knew. She found him attractive. Desirable. And that was dangerous for them both.

Look how things had turned out for Griffin.

“Dinner has been set in the dining room.” Mrs. Voyle’s sharp voice cut through the tension like a jagged blade. She stood in the doorway, buttoning her coat. “You’ll need to come straight away if you want your dinner hot.”

Hugh stood, genial grin fixed firmly in place. “I must see to Mr. James, so I’ll leave you to dine without me. Thank you for indulging us, Mr. Peirs.”

Kyle jerked a shoulder, his impassive features impossible to read. “Of course.”

Outside the parlor, Warlow started up the stairs, and Eleri and Kyle followed Mrs. Voyle down the hall.

“You’ll have to serve yourselves,” Mrs. Voyle said, as Eleri and Kyle entered the dining room. “I’ve already stayed later than I prefer. And you’ll need to tidy up yourself. I won’t wait.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Voyle,” Eleri ground out. If by some unfortunate twist of fate her father should leave Stonecliff to her, after all, Eleri’s first order of business would be to fire the woman.

Mrs. Voyle hurried away, and Eleri led Kyle to the plates stacked at one end of the sideboard. “I should apologize in advance for Mrs. Voyle’s cooking. Whatever threat you were willing to face by letting the lodge, I’m afraid you may have increased it considerably by agreeing to eat here.”

She glanced back over her shoulder with a smirk, but the expression dissolved quickly. Kyle stared down at the domed platters, his normally olive skin pale, expression shuttered.

Of course, he wouldn’t find the crack amusing—especially coming from her. “I was kidding.”

His gaze met hers and he smiled but it looked forced. “If you’re willing to eat it, I’m sure I’ll be safe enough.”

Eleri lifted the silver dome off the first platter, and let out a soft sigh. Ah yes, Mrs. Voyle’s infamous gray roast beef. No doubt they would have the woman’s lumpy potatoes and mushy vegetables to look forward to. And of course, her sludge gravy. She forked a slice of meat onto her plate. “I wouldn’t bet on it.”

“I’m just pleased to be invited for a meal. Saves me from having to cook something.”

“Are you certain this is better?”

He met her gaze. “There’s the company, as well.”

Warm flush tingled over her skin. Was he flirting with her?

What a lot of nonsense. As if he’d be interested in the likes of her. He was attractive, successful, sexy. He could no doubt do better than a short, plain woman under investigation for murdering men just like him.

With dinner on their plates, they sat at the large table facing each other.

“I’m sorry about Hugh,” Eleri said, smoothing her napkin over her lap. “It was wrong of him to pry the way he did.”

“I should imagine letting your house to a complete stranger is disconcerting.”

Eleri used her fork to squash the larger lumps in her potatoes. “I can’t imagine anyone choosing to stay here if they had somewhere else to go. And when Warlow said you were a writer, I worried that you might be after a story. I haven’t had great experiences with reporters.”

The jagged scar curling across Kyle’s throat bobbed. “How do you mean?”

“A few years back, a man who worked for us vanished. Despite indications that he’d simply moved on, his family was certain he’d met with foul play.”

“What sort of indications?”

“His belongings were gone from the coach house and his car had gone. There was no evidence that the man hadn’t just moved. When his family lost faith in the police, they went to the media. One reporter in particular wrote a series of articles, none of them true. He filled the articles with gossip and rumors. He was actually the one to come up with the name The Witch of Stonecliff. Life in the village quickly became unbearable. I left first chance I got.”

Kyle’s face had paled, his expression intent. “Did you ever meet him?”

Unease prickled the base of her neck.

She shook her head. “He asked for an interview, but I refused.”

“What happened to him?”

“I’ve no idea. Once the story played itself out, I imagine he moved on to something far more titillating. Alien sightings in the Outer Hebrides maybe. Another royal family conspiracy.” She shrugged. “Who knows?”

He nodded slowly, his gaze distant as if lost in thought. “Maybe he’s one of the men they found in The Devil’s Eye. Maybe that’s why the articles stopped.”

Eleri’s stomach squeezed, and she pushed her plate away. She sincerely hoped not. “Surely, if he’d disappeared, someone would have noticed. You can bet the police would have been at my door the minute the man had been reported missing.”

Kyle stared at her for a long moment without speaking, his expression stony. Something in the conversation had changed. He’d changed. Gone was the mildly flirtatious man who’d arrived. He’d been replaced by a man searching for something.

Had her initial instincts been right all along? Could he be working with the detective like Reece had been? Related to one of the men police had fished out of The Eye?

“What aren’t you telling me?” she asked, softly.

He grinned, all warm charm once more, chilly intensity leaving his light eyes. “It’s not fair how you’ve been treated.”

Was he being sincere, or playing her? And if it was the latter, to what end? What did he want from her?

She stood abruptly. “If you’re finished, I’ll take your plate.”

“Let me help you,” Kyle offered.

“It’s fine,” she told him, snatching up his dishes and hurrying away to the kitchen. Dumping the plates on the counter, she let out a slow breath.

What was she doing? She should never have brought up the murders, reporters or anything else to do with The Devil’s Eye. She shouldn’t have agreed to this dinner. She needed to get Kyle on his way back to the lodge and avoid him for the length of his stay.

“Can I help with the washing up?”

She started at the sound of Kyle’s voice. He leaned against the far wall, arms folded over his chest.

A flutter tickled low inside her. She swallowed hard and shook her head. “I can manage. It’s getting late.

“Have I overstayed my welcome?”

She lifted her shoulder in a noncommittal shrug. “It’s been a long day.”

“Did my questions about that reporter make you uncomfortable?” He straightened and took a step toward her.

“No.” His odd shift in mood made her uneasy. “I’m just tired.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’m not upset. I’m…” Her words trailed off, eyes widening as he closed the distance between them. She tried to step back, but bumped into the counter.

He stopped inches away, so close she could feel his body heat radiating from his frame. Her pulse fluttered in her throat.

She didn’t like him so close, yet her fingers itched to grasp his loose shirt and tug him nearer.

Kyle reached out one arm, brushed her shoulder, and she shivered before she could stop herself. His light spicy scent teased her nose. Warm fingers trailed her chin, tilted her head back. Pale green eyes met hers.

“I’m sorry if I made you feel bad.”

She opened her mouth to tell him that he hadn’t, but before she could get the words out, Kyle dipped his head and brushed his lips against hers.