Читать книгу Weathering Rock - Mae Clair - Страница 6

Chapter 1

The June moon rode a ragged ridge of bone-white clouds, filmy and pale as the translucent skin of an onion. Honeysuckle mingled with the aroma of sweet clover and drifted through the open window of Arianna Hart’s Chrysler Sebring. It was a pleasant night, touched by fog and ripe with all the scents and sounds that heralded summer’s arrival. In the distance, the rooftops of Weathering Rock jutted above the trees, silvered with the ice-white blood of the moon.

The old manor home predated the Civil War and had been a landmark for the town of Sagehill as far back as she could remember. Ball lightning and freak storms were said to roll through the surrounding fields like a tempest of Earth and sky, giving rise to superstition and legend. Even now, tendrils of fog twined among the trees. Arianna didn’t care about the weather anomalies or myths. It was the past that fascinated her, a passion she’d carried into her career as a teacher of American history at the local middle school. Engrossed in her thoughts, absently humming along to Lady Gaga on the radio, she was unprepared when a man on horseback plunged from the trees.

“Shit!” With a shriek of horror, she slammed on the brakes sending the Sebring fishtailing across the road. The horse reared upright, trapping the rider in the beam of her headlights, his hair a blaze of bright silver. She watched in horror as he lost his battle to stay mounted and tumbled backward to the ground. The horse wasted no time in thundering off between the trees, and was swallowed by ribbons of fog.

“Oh, God!” Arianna popped the door, fumbling off her seatbelt and stumbling in her haste to reach the prone man. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you.” She was babbling, her heart in her throat, nerves in the stratosphere. “Are you all right?”

Of course he wasn’t all right! He wasn’t even moving. He looked to be in his early thirties, dressed in jeans, a dark t-shirt and an archaic-looking frock coat. The garment was straight out of a history book.

“Sir?” Arianna knelt on the roadside. Now that she saw him up close, she realized his hair was blond, not silver, cut longer than fashionable. He had a lean but muscular physique and–she couldn’t help noticing–was handsome as sin. If she was going to mow someone down, why not go for the gold? “Um–” She prodded his shoulder, jumping when he responded with a groan. Arianna sank back on her haunches. “Thank God!”

The man stirred and rolled his head on the asphalt, dragging one leg upright. He made an abortive attempt to wedge it beneath him, and raised a hand to his head. “What happened? I need to reach Meade.”

“Who?” Arianna didn’t like the way he was holding his head. “Uh, look…I’m not sure who you are, but I’m going to call an ambulance. My cellphone is in the car–”

“No.” Wincing, he struggled to sit.

Arianna did what she could to assist, surprised when he completed the action by climbing to his feet and steadying himself against her. He was taller than she’d thought, six foot-one or two, every inch of him dazed and wobbly male. She could feel the press of his body to hers–sinew and muscle, the taut, well-formed lines of a denim-clad hip and thigh.

“I don’t need an ambulance.” His eyes were touched by an eerie silver sheen. Like an animal’s at night when reflecting light. “I live at Weathering Rock.

“You might have a concussion.”

“No hospital.” He looked away and his face fell back into shadow. It made her wonder if she’d imagined that feral glow. When he spoke again, his speech carried a formal inflection. “May I impose upon you to drive me home? It appears I require assistance.”

“What about your horse?”

“It knows the way.” He pressed two fingers against his temple, his eyes narrowing to painful slits. “I didn’t see you. Like Seth at Crinkeshaw.”

His distraction worried Arianna. It made her reconsider calling an ambulance, but he seemed to read the thought in her eyes. “My…brother…is at home. He’s a doctor.”

“Your brother lives at Weathering Rock?”

“We both do. It’s not far.”

“I know the way.” Forcing herself to speak calmly, Arianna guided him to the passenger’s side of the Sebring. She didn’t know if she was crazy or foolish for helping a stranger into her car. She said a silent prayer he was harmless and wouldn’t turn out to be a deranged serial killer.

“I’m going to call a friend. He’s a cop.”

“No.” He grabbed her wrist and held fast. “I won’t hurt you.”

She balked, disturbed he’d read her mind so easily. He needed to have his head examined if he thought she was going to take his word at face value. Wasn’t she always getting something in her email, forwarded by a well-meaning friend that warned of men who preyed on unsuspecting women? There was nothing to stop him from stuffing her in the trunk and driving off.

Except if he’d wanted to harm her he would have done it by now. Not everyone was an ax murderer or a fugitive from American’s Most Wanted.

She pulled her arm free. “What’s your name?”

“Caleb.” There was pain in his voice, the answer spoken through gritted teeth. “Caleb DeCardian.” He opened the door of the Sebring and folded into the seat. With his face turned away, Arianna did a visual check, searching for blood. She couldn’t see any, but suspected he’d hit his head when he’d fallen. He appeared dazed enough to be nursing a concussion.

Squelching her panic, she rounded the vehicle and climbed in the driver’s side. She left the door hanging open, the dome light brightening the interior of the car while she fished in her purse for her cell. “I have insurance.”

“It wasn’t your fault. I rode out in front of you.”

At least he was honest. What kind of an idiot went for a horseback ride when it was almost midnight? A handsome idiot.

No question about it. His platinum hair was wavy and thick, highlighted by streaks of white-gold. It dipped beneath his collar in the back and covered his ears. The style meshed well with his tailored black frock coat, a strange contrast against the faded denim of his jeans and the tightly defining fit of a navy t-shirt. The clothing molded his body well, accentuating long legs and a broad chest. He must be as eccentric as he was good-looking.

Locating her cell, Arianna punched out her home number and closed the car door. A half-hour earlier she’d left her friend’s home for the night. She didn’t want to worry Lauren over her whereabouts, but thought it wise to play safe. Dating a cop for a year had taught her the value of being cautious. When her answering machine kicked in, she pretended to have a conversation with her friend.

“Hi, Lauren?” Pause. “No, I didn’t get home yet. Something came up. I’ll call you in about twenty minutes, as soon as I get in the door. I’m stopping at Weathering Rock–you know that old house on Blackberry Lane?” A longer pause. “No, I’ll explain later. Talk to you then.” She felt foolish for pulling the charade, but wanted Caleb to think someone was waiting to hear from her.

“Are you all right?” she asked again as she started the ignition and eased the car onto the road.

He gave a noncommittal grunt. It made her think of lawsuits and catastrophic medical bills. Everyone was sue-happy these days. He’d admitted to riding out in front of her, but how quickly would that change once a fee-hungry lawyer sank greedy claws into him?

She could always call Lucas for help, even if she didn’t want to involve the police directly. Her ex-boyfriend would know what to do, though asking for advice was guaranteed to trigger one of his you-need-a-keeper spiels. It was no wonder they’d split up. As Lauren liked to say–there were no King Arthurs left in the world, just Arthurs who expected to be treated like kings.

“Sagehill isn’t far,” she said, contemplating her liability, court dates and how complicated the whole situation might become.

“Weathering Rock is closer.” In the half-gloom of fog and moonlight, Caleb’s eyes flashed like crystal. “What’s your name?”

She considered lying, but smothered the impulse. “Arianna Hart. My friends call me Ari.”

“Annie,” he said, still sounding confused.

She would have corrected him, but grew distracted when he stretched his legs in an attempt to get more comfortable. He was almost too tall for the tiny vehicle, his proximity charging the air with a goosebump-crackle of electricity. The taut pull of faded denim over his thighs was disconcerting, especially when her glance wandered higher, revealing how well his jeans defined all areas of his lower anatomy.

Abruptly warm, she turned her attention back to the road. She had a history of failed relationships, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate the male physique. Especially when a man was as well put together as Caleb DeCardian.

“Who’s Meade?’

“What?”

“You said you had to reach Meade.” She eased into a left turn. Overhead, the sky was a patchwork of clouds and stars. “Is that a person or a place?”

“Uh…” The word stuck on his tongue. “Nothing important.” He tilted his head against the seat, his lashes sweeping closed as he dismissed the question. “Thank you, Annie.”

“Ari,” she corrected, falling silent. Weathering Rock was only moments away, but it felt like an eternity. Life would have been much easier if she’d spent the night at Lauren’s like her friend had wanted. Instead, she’d insisted she could navigate the roads, the hour not too late for a drive she’d made countless times before.

Yet in all those times she’d never come upon a rider on horseback wearing a 19th century frock coat. Caleb. Even his name was archaic, his speech and diction distinctly formal. What did she expect from an odd encounter in the middle of the night?

Another curve in the road and Weathering Rock came into view, only the rooftop visible among layers of low-lying fog. Memory told her the house was set back from the road a good hundred yards by a rolling expanse of lawn. Squat pines and a fringe of ash flanked the driveway.

“Almost there,” Arianna told her passenger as she turned the Sebring up the sloping drive. The lane rose at a steady incline, paving the way to a carefully preserved manor home with a broad wraparound porch, white pillars, and multiple chimneys. She stopped at the top of the drive in time to see a man sprint around the house. He raced for the car.

“Are you Doctor DeCardian?” She’d barely managed to open her door before he reached the vehicle.

“Yes!” He shot a glance through the windshield at her passenger, then wrenched open the door. “Caleb? What the hell happened? Ranger came pounding back without you. I thought Seth–” He stopped abruptly as if realizing he’d said too much. “Are you hurt?”

“Headache.” Caleb swung his legs to the ground.

Arianna felt her stomach clench. “What can I do?”

“Get the front door,” the other man–Winston, if she’d heard correctly–instructed.

With a nod, she hurried up the steps, nearly tripping on the narrow front stairs. Behind her, Winston kept one hand clasped around Caleb’s arm as he steered him toward the house.

Panicked by the thought she might have caused him permanent harm, she wrapped a sweat-sticky palm around the doorknob and shoved inside. She should have called Lucas or the cops. She should have done something. But it was too late to be courting shoulda-coulda-wouldas.

She waited as Caleb hobbled past with his brother, then trailed behind them, following down a central hallway. An open arch led to a parlor with blush champagne walls and furnishings of wheat, navy and gold. Her heels clacked on the walnut floorboards, echoing shrilly, rattling her already frayed nerves.

“Sit here.” Winston steered his brother to a medallion-backed sofa with clawed feet. It looked as comfortable as a slab of rock, but Caleb folded into it with an appreciative groan. He bowed his head and massaged his temple.

“I couldn’t tell if he was bleeding,” she blurted to Winston as he breezed past and ducked into an adjoining room. He came back within seconds, carrying a plastic pill vial, prompting Arianna to continue as if he’d never left. “I…I almost ran him down with my car.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Caleb said. “I should have been paying attention.”

“Too worried about Meade or some other dumbass garbage,” Winston muttered, uncapping the vial and tumbling several white tablets into his palm. He thrust two under Caleb’s nose. “Here. I’ll get water.”

“I don’t need it.” Taking the pills, Caleb swallowed them dry. He sagged against the cushions and flicked Winston a sour glance. “Quit looking so damn irritable. I’m not bleeding, I took a spill from my infernal horse.”

Infernal? Arianna cleared her throat. “I know I’m not a doctor, but couldn’t he have a concussion?”

Winston DeCardian looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. As tall as his brother, he had dark wavy hair and shockingly blue eyes. “Of course he could, probably does too, the damn idiot. Caleb suffers from headaches and had one earlier tonight.” He eyed his brother with a frown. “Which is all the more reason to not go riding after dark. You’re lucky this woman was driving by, Caleb.”

“You don’t understand.” Arianna stepped closer, certain he’d drawn the wrong conclusion. “I’m the reason his horse reared. I mean, my car… It wasn’t his fault.”

“It wasn’t yours either,” Caleb said again. He motioned toward his brother. “Winston, meet Arianna Hart. Arianna, my brother Winston.”

“Wyn is fine.” The doctor managed a halfway agreeable nod for Arianna. “Caleb is the only one who calls me Winston.” He waved toward the windows, indicating the road beyond. “Whatever happened out there, I’m glad you stopped to help.”

“I think Arianna should spend the night,” Caleb said, tilting his head against the rear of the sofa and cupping a hand over his forehead.

“What?” She laughed, startled by the suggestion. Damn, if she hadn’t been staring, focused on the way the light defined strands of white-gold and ash in his longish hair. It didn’t help he sat with his legs braced apart, his jeans pulling taut, defining the muscular lines of his thighs. Unlike Lauren, she’d never been attracted to blond men. Lauren’s ex-husband, Rick Rothrock, was the perpetual golden boy of Sagehill–young, handsome and successful.

Feeling her checks flush, she cleared her throat. “I live in Sagehill.” She was thankful neither man had noticed her straying glance. “Twenty minutes and I’ll be home.”

Caleb lowered his hand long enough to meet her eyes. “The fog is growing worse and it’s late.”

“He’s right.” Absently, Wyn laced his fingers through his rumpled black curls. He looked like he’d only woken up, sloppy in comparison to his fair-haired brother. She guessed he’d dressed in a hurry when he heard Caleb’s horse outside. The physical resemblance between the two was slight, and Arianna would have never pegged them as being related.

“I’ll be fine driving home,” she said.

“I’d rather you didn’t.” Caleb cast his brother a pointed glance, but his words were for Arianna. “It’s not safe tonight.”

“Excuse me?”

“The fog,” Caleb clarified with an easy smile. “It’s building.”

Before she could protest, he stood and gathered her hand in his, the touch igniting sparks along the pads of her fingertips.

“I’d feel better if you stayed here. If you need to call your husband–”

“I’m not married.” Normally she could tell when a man was fishing, trying to discover if she was involved with someone. She’d been on the singles’ scene long enough to know the rules and spot the players, but Caleb bewildered her. Her eyes dropped to his left hand, noting the absence of a wedding ring.

“I live alone.” She cringed as soon as she said it, realizing her blunder. Nothing like announcing she lived by herself and wouldn’t be missed. Why not ring the dinner bell for anyone unscrupulous enough to ditch her body in a remote area where the remains wouldn’t be found for months or years? “Uh, but I’m still friends with my ex-boyfriend. He’s a detective with the Sagehill Police Department and we check in with each other regularly.”

“I see.” Caleb released her hand. “You can call him over there.” He nodded to a table where Arianna noted a wireless handset among a clump of other items–car keys, pens, a pocketknife, unopened mail and a handful of loose change.

She shook her head, embarrassed to appear distrustful when he’d been nothing but understanding. Caleb had a way of looking at her that made her feel like an awkward teenager. He couldn’t have been more than thirty-two or thirty-three, yet seemed older.

“I should go now.” She didn’t believe either man was a threat. They would have harmed her already had that been their intent, but she didn’t want to spend the night with strangers. The only danger outside was a naturally occurring fog, something she’d encountered countless times before.

“I’ll leave my insurance information in case there’s a problem.”

Caleb traded a glance with Wyn, something nonverbal passing between them. “The least I can do is escort you to your vehicle and ensure it wasn’t damaged.”

She couldn’t argue with that. Rummaging a pen and paper from her purse, she jotted down her contact information and left it on the table by the phone. Afterward, both men walked with her outside, Caleb holding the door as she stepped onto the porch.