Читать книгу Three Rich Men: House of Midnight Fantasies / Forced to the Altar / The Millionaire's Pregnant Mistress - Michelle Celmer - Страница 7

Selene spun to her right to find a dark figure seated in a wicker settee at the end of the veranda a few feet away. She released a ragged breath, one hand resting on her chest above the gown’s scooped neck, the other gripping the rail tighter for support. “You startled me.”

“Obviously.” His tone dripped with sarcasm.

Wonderful. A midnight encounter with a jerk. She was so looking forward to this. “I take it you’re Mr. Morrell.”

“Correct.”

That relieved Selene somewhat, even if his attitude needed adjusting. At least he was a real man, not some ghostly apparition.

What now? She could bid him good-night and return to her room. Or she could get the official introduction out of the way then go back to bed. With that in mind, she shored up her courage and moved closer, the moonlight providing enough illumination for her to make out a few details. Details such as he couldn’t be much beyond his mid-thirties and not the curmudgeon she’d envisioned.

His slightly wavy dark hair fell below his chin and his lips formed a line as hard and unyielding as his jaw that was covered in evening whiskers. Then her gaze came to rest on his eyes. She suspected the same eyes that had flashed in her mind upon her arrival. Unearthly blue, predatory eyes.

She could also see he wasn’t wearing a shirt, while she was wearing a cotton gown that provided little cover. Not necessarily the proper attire for her first encounter with her boss, but she might as well get it over with.

Selene finally gathered enough wherewithal to step forward and offer her hand along with a forced smile. “I’m your new employee, Selene Winston.”

“I know who you are.” His gaze tracked down her body slowly in a blatant size-up before he centered it on her extended hand. After a slight hesitation, he took her palm into his grasp and curled his fingers around hers. Selene reeled from the bolt of sensation, the abject pain emanating from him. A deep, wounding pain.

She quickly dropped her hand and took a step back, as if she’d suffered an electrical shock. In reality, she had. She’d lived with the “gift” for as long as she could remember, keeping it concealed from the world. Well-bred Southern girls didn’t read minds; they read the society page. But in all her years, never before had she been empathetic. She’d been able to discern others thoughts through imagery and occasionally words, but she’d never been able to channel feelings. Until him.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she murmured once she again had control over her voice.

He didn’t return the greeting, yet he did continue to stare at her, making her want to twitch where she stood. Making her want to run from him even though she felt oddly drawn to him. Drawn to his aura. His pain.

She struggled for something casual to say despite the uncomfortable situation. “I’d appreciate your input on how you want the restorations handled. Not right now, of course, since I need something to write with. Maybe tomorrow. Or the next day, if you prefer.” Heaven help her, she was rambling like an idiot.

He failed to respond for a few moments until he finally said, “Only one thing you need to know. I expect perfection.”

Selene knew all about perfection. She’d lived the perfect life with the perfect family. Had gone to perfect schools and had married the perfect man. The perfect lying bastard, she corrected. “I’ll do my best to please you.”

He laced his hands atop his bare belly. “That remains to be seen. I’m not easy to please.”

That certainly didn’t surprise Selene considering Ella’s assessment that Adrien Morrell was a “hard case.” She would have to concur. And after her reaction to him when they’d touched, she sensed that perhaps he had his reasons. “Do you have any particular preferences?”

He inclined his head and surveyed her face from forehead to chin, settling his gaze on her mouth. “In reference to what?”

Another image filtered into her mind, regardless of her attempts to stop it. She only caught a glimpse of his thoughts, but enough to realize those thoughts involved questionable considerations involving naked bodies. Her naked body.

Selene couldn’t fathom why her well-honed ability to block this kind of thing failed her now. Couldn’t understand why he would be fantasizing about her, a woman he’d just met. More disturbing, she couldn’t comprehend why that excited her.

“I’m referring to how you would like the restoration handled,” she said once the images dissolved.

He shifted slightly in the chair. “I prefer not to be involved at all. Unless you have no idea what you’re doing.”

That made her bristle, her defenses on high alert. “Any reason why you believe I wouldn’t know what I’m doing?”

“You’ve given me no evidence to believe that you do.”

How was she going to answer? Easy. By telling only a partial truth. “I have an interior-design degree. I’ve also supervised staffs and redecorated my own house in the past. I’ve even refinished furniture with my own two hands.”

“Was that before or after your tennis game with the ladies down at the club?”

She resented his condescending tone. Resented even more that he was right about her former life. “Actually, I believe that was the day I had tea with the Daughters of the Confederacy,” she said in her sweetest drawl. “Right before I went to my lessons on how to be genteel and polite even when confronted by ill-mannered jackasses. Those lessons seem to be escaping me now.”

He looked as if he might actually smile, but it didn’t quite form. “Are you calling me a jackass, Ms. Winston?”

If the moniker fits. She laid a dramatic hand above her breast. “Why, no, Mr. Morrell. That would be totally improper.”

Again he raked his gaze down her body and back up again. Slowly. “Nothing wrong with impropriety now and then, Selene.”

And no doubt he had that impropriety market cornered. He’d been brazen enough to call her by her given name. Bold enough to fantasize about her. And he hadn’t even bothered to stand … until that moment.

He came to his feet slowly and, as she’d guessed, he was an inch or two over six feet. His chest was lean, well defined and dusted with a layer of dark hair, his flat abdomen sporting a sequence of ridges above the waistband of his black slacks. His proximity alone jumbled her mind, hindered her breathing, as did his scent. A subtle clean scent that seemed perfectly in sync with the summer night, as if he were an integral part of the atmosphere. Mystifying, intoxicating, forbidden.

If he’d meant to intimidate her, it was working. But Selene wasn’t going to let that happen. Not anymore. Not by any man. Especially not a man like him, even if he was absolutely awe-inspiring—in a threatening kind of way.

But instead of backing up, she turned her attention to a pair of dark vines circling his solid bicep, a grouping of letters centered in the middle that spelled out the word Imperium. “Interesting tattoo. My Latin’s a little rusty. What does it mean?”

She lifted her eyes to find his gaze boring into her. “Absolute power.”

Both his declaration and his overwhelming presence paralyzed her, even though she knew what he was about to do. The way he studied her mouth again gave her the first indication. His musings that broke through her mental haze served as confirmation. If she didn’t leave now, he was going to kiss her. And she might actually let him.

Forcing herself back into reality, Selene folded her arms tightly around herself, as if that might offer some protection, and stepped back to regain her resolve. “I don’t believe power is absolute, Mr. Morrell.”

With the last of her shredding strength, Selene turned away from him and headed back to the safety of the bedroom. But she’d only managed a few steps before he said, “Some power is absolute, Selene. And you know it.”

She didn’t dare face him again, or respond at all. Doing so would only prove to him that he did possess a certain power—over her.

She returned to the room, closing the doors behind her. Closing him out. But she couldn’t drive him from her thoughts, nor could she rid herself of the persistent heat that had little to do with the elements.

She climbed into bed and tried to clear her mind. Tried to sleep. Tried to think about anything but him. But as she drifted off, Adrien Morrell was the last thing she thought about. The last thing she saw.

The minute Selene stepped from the bathroom into the hallway the following morning, she knew he had been nearby. She’d immediately caught the scent of his cologne, but more importantly, she sensed his presence. An intangible feeling that totally consumed her. She wondered if he’d been standing at the door or if he’d simply just passed through the corridor. Whatever the case might be, he wasn’t anywhere in sight now. That should please her, but in a way, she was disappointed—only because she wanted to get a look at him in the daylight. A good, long look.

Glancing to her right, she intended to check to see if his bedroom door was open. Instead, she made contact with the devilish statue, its vicious features causing her to physically jump. Demon Giles would definitely have to go somewhere else. Anywhere else. If she thought she could actually haul him up and carry him out, she would deposit him in the nearby swamp.

Selene returned to her bedroom, slipped out of her robe and into a pair of white linen slacks and a coral knit sleeveless top. At least her summer apparel provided a respite from the heat that had already begun to creep into the house.

Selene headed down the spiral staircase at a fast clip, relieved to be out of the dark corridor and into the light, surrounded by cherubs. As she made her way across the rotunda toward the kitchen, she paused at a painting hanging on the wall of a young woman with bright green eyes and raven-black hair swept up from her slender, pale neck, her hands folded primly in her lap. Considering the lady’s clothing—a soft white, long lace dress with a full skirt—Selene would guess that she’d probably resided at the plantation many years before. But when she studied the inscription on the brass plate anchored to the bottom of the frame, a series of chills raced up her spine as well as a sense of foreboding.

Grace—She sleeps with the angels.

Maybe this was a key to one of the tragedies Ella had spoken about the previous day. Maybe this beautiful young woman had died before her youth was spent, and perhaps even in this house. As disconcerting as that thought was, Selene wanted to know more about the plantation’s past, if for no other reason than to satisfy her own curiosity. Who better to ask than the owner’s right-hand woman?

As she entered the kitchen, Selene found Ella at the ancient white stove scrambling eggs and humming a cheerful song.

“Good morning,” Selene said as she pulled back a chair and took a seat at the weathered pine table.

Ella regarded her over one shoulder while she continued to cook. “Good morning to you, too. Did you sleep well?”

“Fairly well. It’s going to take me a while to get used to the surroundings.” To get used to the idea that Adrien Morrell resided right next door. She’d intermittently heard the sounds of his footsteps throughout the night, as if he’d been restless. But then so had she. She still was.

Ella turned from the stove, balancing a full plate in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. She crossed the small space and slid the fare in front of Selene. “Enjoy.”

Selene resisted wrinkling her nose. She didn’t care for eggs or bacon. Toast she could do, and coffee. Definitely coffee. “It looks good, but I’m never very hungry in the morning. I also want to get an early start today.”

Ella returned to the table with her own cup of coffee and took the chair across from Selene. “If you stay around for a while, you might be able to meet Mr. Morrell when he comes down for breakfast.”

“I’ve already met him.” Selene waited for Ella’s apparent surprise to subside before she added, “Last night, on the veranda outside our rooms.”

Ella slid a fingertip around the rim of her own cup. “How did that go?”

It had gone places Selene had never expected. “Not too badly. He wanted to know about my work experience, and I got the impression he doesn’t want to be bothered with the details of the restoration.”

Ella sighed. “He wants to be left alone.”

Selene had sensed that about him last night, even in light of his fantasies about her. “What exactly does he do for a living?”

“He’s an entrepreneur. He turned his inheritance into a small fortune through various ventures, mainly buying faltering businesses, restoring them and selling them for a large profit. He’s very good at what he does, or he was until …” Ella’s gaze drifted away with her words.

“Until what?” Selene asked.

“Until he decided to take a break from it all.”

Again, Selene wanted to know more about Adrien, to ask more questions. But she sensed Ella wasn’t up to answering, which called for a subject change. “If you can point me to a phone, I’ll contact a few prospective contractors and set up appointments.”

Ella took a quick sip of her coffee. “You’ll have to find someone from Baton Rouge since you won’t find anyone locally, at least not anyone who’s willing to come out here. The townspeople are a superstitious lot. They believe the place is cursed.”

Ella had unknowingly provided Selene with a good opening. “That portrait near the staircase. Is that woman somehow involved in the tragedies?”

“I’m not really sure,” Ella said. “I assume she probably is, but I don’t know any details about her.”

Selene had always embraced the past, and she truly believed the woman named Grace had an interesting one at that.

She took another quick drink of coffee, pushed back from the table and stood. “I’m going to go into town and pay a personal visit to a few of the business owners. Maybe someone can suggest a local contractor who isn’t superstitious.”

“Good luck.” Ella nodded toward Selene’s untouched food. “You should eat something first, put on a few pounds so you don’t make me look quite so portly.”

“You’re fine just the way you are. And I’m in a hurry to get this restoration underway.” In a hurry to get away because she sensed Adrien’s imminent arrival as surely as if she’d heard his approaching footsteps, which she hadn’t. Any minute now, he could walk into the kitchen and throw her off balance. Better to head into town before that happened. Before she had to look at him again, this time in the daylight where all her fascination and preoccupation with her boss would be bared like a flashing billboard. Because she was fascinated by him, completely intrigued. He had his share of secrets, that much she knew, and most she would probably never know.

Yet she also knew those secrets had brought on his pain, and she had always been a sucker for lost souls. She’d manned a couple of hotlines on a volunteer basis, had championed several causes. She’d also learned that some lost people didn’t care to be found. She suspected that Adrien Morrell had no desire to be saved from his solitude. For that reason alone, she vowed to pay no heed to him, as long as he stayed out of her head.

Alone in his office, Adrien stood at the window and watched Selene Winston drive away. Curiosity sent him immediately to her room, to see if she had left for good. In his experience, everyone eventually left. Not so in this case, at least not yet.

The white gown she’d been wearing on the veranda last night was draped over the bed’s footboard. The sheer fabric had revealed only a few details, but enough details to set him on edge and keep him there. Striding across the room, he passed his palm over the gown that was as soft as her skin. He knew that much, even though he hadn’t touched her. Yet. But he would.

Last night, he’d warred with what was wise and what he wanted. Many considered him predatory, territorial in both business and in pleasure. Until recently, he’d lived for the thrill of the chase, the rewards of capture. Selene Winston had resurrected that desire. Though he’d made a solid effort to ignore his baser urges, he was still a man. A man on a mission.

He planned to draw her into his world with a slow and carefully crafted seduction, guiding her into the darkness he’d created. She might be reluctant at first, but eventually she would come without reservation. Willingly. Openly.

She would provide a respite from his remorse, a means to temporarily forget what he hadn’t done. More importantly, what he had done … to Chloe.

Fifteen minutes later, Selene drove into St. Edwards and pulled her sedan in front of Abby’s Antiques, a place she had visited several times. The shop was situated along a row of small businesses that lined the single downtown street, an ancient red brick church serving as the town’s cornerstone. After only a moment’s hesitation, she left the car and entered the glass door, the subtle chime announcing her arrival.

The proprietor, Abby Reynolds, a forty something tiny woman with bobbed auburn hair and kind hazel eyes, looked up from behind the counter positioned at the back of the store and greeted Selene with a smile. “Hello, Ms. Winston. I thought you’d left town.”

“As it turns out, I’m going to be here awhile.” Selene skirted the helter-skelter antiques as she traveled down the narrow aisle, basking in the blessedly cool air flowing over her. If only she could bottle some to take back to the plantation.

When Selene reached the counter, Abby pushed her black glasses up onto her head and set aside the book she’d been reading. “You’ve decided to stay?”

“Yes, thanks to you. Remember that ad you showed me? As it turns out, it’s a plantation west of town, and I’ve been hired to oversee a complete restoration.”

“Maison de Minuit.” Selene immediately noticed the wariness in Abby’s tone and the stiffness of her small frame. “That should be challenging.”

“Yes it will be, and that’s why I’m here.” Selene set her purse on the counter and folded her hands next to it. “Do you happen to know a local contractor who’d be willing to take it on?”

The woman shook her head. “You won’t find anyone here who’ll go out there.”

Exactly what Ella had told Selene earlier. “What is it about the place that has everyone avoiding it like the plague?”

“Well, there’s the matter of the lovers who supposedly died there, and the voodoo woman who lived there after that. And the somewhat insane Giles Morrell who fortunately wasn’t there very long. Take your pick.”

Selene wondered if Grace happened to be one of those lovers. “Do you know any details? Names, that sort of thing? I’d like to know a little bit about the plantation’s history.”

Abby shrugged. “I’ve only been in town a couple of years. When I have heard people speak about the place, it’s been brief, as if they’re afraid to talk about it. And there’s also the woman who mysteriously disappeared about a year ago.”

“What woman?” Selene couldn’t mask her surprise or uneasiness.

“Supposedly Adrien Morrell was holed up with her for over a year,” Abby said. “Ralph Allen works for a delivery service and used to make runs out there every week or so to deliver packages. He says he saw her looking out an upstairs window a couple of times.”

Surely Adrien didn’t have an unidentified woman locked up in the mysterious bedroom. A totally ludicrous thought, Selene decided. Still …”But as far as anyone knows, she left?”

“The deliveries stopped suddenly, and no one’s seen her since. Except Ralph swears he passed a coroner’s car coming from that direction one morning.”

Selene swallowed hard. “She died?”

Abby showed her discomfort by shifting her weight from one hip to the other. “There isn’t any real proof of that. No death notice or anything. But Mr. Morrell has enough money to pay for silence, so I guess anything’s possible. If he wanted her dead, he could arrange for it, even if he didn’t do it himself.”

Selene wasn’t sure she wanted to explore those possibilities, though she didn’t really view Adrien as a murderer. But what did she really know about him? Not much, other than he was a physically attractive, powerful man. “Maybe she just left on her own accord.”

“Maybe she was a ghost.” Abby attempted a reassuring smile. “You know how it is with gossip, Selene. People are like coon hounds with a rawhide bone. They chew on it for a while, then bury it for a time, but they always bring it out, along with more dirt.”

Selene wanted to believe that that’s all it was—idle gossip from the depths of idle minds. Rumor or not, she was still uneasy. “Do you know anyone who knows about the plantation’s previous owners? Maybe a historian of some kind?”

“Unfortunately, the town doesn’t have a library, otherwise I’d point you in that direction. You could try the courthouse, but I don’t know how far back their records go. They don’t even have a computerized system yet. And they lost quite a bit during a flood in the 1920s.”

That sounded like a surefire dead end to Selene. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to try that.”

“Good luck,” Abby said. “In the meantime, I can ask around and let you know if I find someone who knows the history.”

“That would be wonderful.” Selene rummaged through her purse, withdrew a pen and paper, jotted down her number, then handed it to Abby. “This is my cell phone. You can call me anytime.”

Abby reached beneath the counter, took out a notepad and began to write. “I’m going to give you the address of a friend of mine, Linda Adams. She’s in Baton Rouge and she specializes in antique restoration.” She tore off the page and slid it in front of Selene. “She can help you with fabric selection and anything you need done with the furnishings. Her husband’s a contractor and he’s worked on several historical homes in the area, so he might be willing to help you out.”

Selene took the paper and tucked it into the side pocket of her bag. “Thanks so much. I’ll pay her a visit today.”

After giving her thanks and a goodbye to Abby, Selene slid into her car for the trip to Baton Rouge. But before she could pull out into the street, a name jumped into her mind, as clear as the sound of the church’s bell now tolling in the town square. The name meant nothing to her at all, but the voice that spoke it did.

Adrien Morrell’s voice.

“Who’s Chloe?” Following the query, Selene watched her dinner companion’s expression herald first shock, then caution.

“Where did you hear that name?” Ella asked.

“In town.” She didn’t dare tell her exactly where the name had originated—in her mind.

Ella sent her a suspicious glance before pushing the pile of peas around on her plate. “That’s not possible. No one in town knows about her.”

“They believe a woman named Chloe was here for a while with Mr. Morrell, and then she was gone. Rumor has it she died.”

Ella dropped her fork, pushed her plate aside and folded her hands tightly before her on the table. “First, you can’t always believe what you hear, Selene. Second, I don’t know who told you about her, but if I were you, I’d drop it. Now.”

Selene couldn’t ignore Ella’s adamant tone, or the hint of anger. She worried that if she pushed too hard, Ella might push back. Or worse, dismiss her immediately regardless of the contract. “I drove into Baton Rouge today and found a woman who’s going to help me restore the furniture. Her husband has agreed to come by and give us an estimate on repairs. But he’s busy until next week.”

Ella thankfully smiled. “You definitely accomplished quite a bit today.”

“I also went by the courthouse,” Selene added. “The woman told me it would take several days for her to locate any plans, and that’s if they actually have any. Do you think I might find some here?”

Ella shrugged. “I’m sure Adrien probably has a set, but you’ll have to ask him.”

Not something Selene wanted to do, at least not tonight. “Is there some kind of attic where I might find old documents, maybe original abstracts?”

Ella picked up both hers and Selene’s plates, then stood. “Yes, there’s an attic. You’ll find the door at the end of the hallway past Adrien’s office. Feel free to explore it.” The look Ella sent her said, “If you dare.”

“Think I’ll check it out in the next few days.” In the daylight, Selene decided, because she definitely didn’t want to traipse around in a dusty attic in the dark, in case she should come across the stuff scary legends were made of, including an idiot. That thought almost made her laugh. Almost.

Selene pushed back from the table and stood. “Let me do the dishes.”

Ella waved a hand in dismissal. “I’ll do them, dear.”

“I insist,” Selene said as she began to gather the serving bowls. “I could use something to do while I think.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, we don’t have a dishwasher.”

Selene had noticed, and that would be the first appliance on the purchase list. “I have no problem using my own two hands.”

Ella sent her a cynical smile. “Have you ever washed dishes before, dear?”

“As a matter of fact, I have.” Much to her mother’s horror.

“Then I’ll gratefully take you up on your offer. I need to speak with Adrien before I retire, anyway.”

Most likely reporting to him about the new employee, Selene decided. But that didn’t really matter. So far, she had done nothing wrong other than bring up the name Chloe. And although she’d decided to steer clear of that topic for now, she suspected Ella knew much more than she was willing to reveal. A mystery that might never be solved, unless Selene made a conscious—or subconscious—effort to solve it.

No. She wouldn’t invade someone’s mind to gain information. She’d done that before, only to suffer for it. If she discovered anything at all, it would have to come from someone verbally volunteering the information, not by her intruding into an unsuspecting mind. She highly doubted Adrien Morrell would serve as that volunteer, even though she instinctively knew he held the key. But then again, she might not want to know.

Adrien didn’t bother to look up from the newspaper, even when Ella slid the covered plate and utensils in front of him. “If it’s cold, don’t blame me. You should come to dinner like a normal person.”

He sent a disinterested glance at the food before finally bringing his attention to Ella. “I’m sure it’s fine.”

Ella remained in the same spot, obviously in the mood for a little chat. “Don’t you want to know what our new houseguest has been doing?”

He knew exactly what she’d been doing—keeping him in sexual high gear, and she didn’t even realize it. Yet. He went back to the paper, hoping Ella might take the hint and leave. “I’ve told you, I’m not interested in her plans.” But he was definitely interested in her.

“She’s been asking about the house’s history,” Ella continued despite his comment. “I thought you might like to help her out with that.”

Adrien only wanted to help her out with one thing, and it had nothing to do with the past. He was much more interested in the immediate future. After folding the paper in precise creases, he set it aside. “What do you suggest?”

“First, she needs a set of blueprints,” she said.

He opened a drawer, withdrew a cardboard tube and offered it to her. “Here.”

Ella waved his offer of the plans. “You give them to her. It wouldn’t kill you to be nice to her.”

If Ella only knew how badly he wanted to be nice to Selene, she’d probably rescind the suggestion. “I’ll think about it. But right now, I have some work to do. Anything else that needs my attention?”

“Yes, shâ. Your manners.”

She spun around and headed out the door before Adrien could even offer a parting good-night. He wasn’t expecting to have a good night. He’d rarely had one for almost two years now. Sleep had been as elusive as peace over the past months, and last night had been no exception. It hadn’t helped that he’d encountered a woman who had shattered all his expectations. A woman who’d started a slow burn that had begun to heat up at a rapid pace.

Maybe Selene would like to spend a little time with him tonight. If she wanted to explore some history, he could accommodate her. He would willingly take her on a different kind of exploration, if she gave him some kind of sign she welcomed his attention. He had no cause to think she might, at least not now.

But he wouldn’t let that deter him. He would have never gotten anywhere in business if he’d avoided challenges. Now he had to convince Selene Winston she had nothing to fear from him, as long as she never learned the truth.