Lonesome Rider and Wilde Imaginings (21 page)

Yes, she did. …

Their waitress arrived with the sole, and Brian abruptly removed his hand from hers. “Ah, but, we don't want to be rude to poor Darryl,” he muttered.

“I wish you'd quit that!” she said.

He shrugged. “And I wish you'd quit playing games.”

“I'm not playing any games!” she assured him. “I don't know what's going on. I don't really know either of you. I—”

“You don't know me?” he inquired softly. She gritted her teeth, not replying, and he leaned closer, ebony hair falling over his forehead, eyes flashing. “You damned well ought to know me. And you should learn to trust your own instincts.”

“Right! You never seem to believe a word I say, but I should trust my own instincts! I'm telling you, I don't know what's going on here. I still can't begin to understand what my mother was talking about—”

“Your mother?” he interrupted, suddenly curious.

She stared across the table at him. “When she was dying, she kept saying she wasn't guilty. That she hadn't done something she had been accused of doing. I couldn't understand her, and she was so ill, I didn't want to press her to explain. But the things she said nagged at me. They were what compelled me to come over here once the lawyer reached me. I honestly didn't remember anything about this place. Anything at all.”

Brian sat back again, his eyes on the swans this time as he ran his finger up and down his beer glass.

“I remember. Vaguely,” he said after a moment.

“You do?” Startled, she leaned eagerly across the table.

He shrugged. “They'd been doing some digging in the wine cellar at the castle. They happened upon a passage, and a number of relics from the Norman days. One piece was a very fine cross, estimated to be from the time of William the Conqueror.”

“And?”

“And it disappeared. Your mother had absolutely adored it, and Paddy, being Paddy, threw out all kinds of accusations. Aunt Jane, your mother, was in tears, and your father was furious. He told Paddy in no uncertain terms that he wouldn't allow his wife to be treated so.”

“Good for my father!”

Brian smiled. “I thought so, too. I was about eleven at the time. I loved Aunt Jane. My mother died when I was an infant, and I always thought that Aunt Jane was beautiful and kind and wonderful, so I was delighted to see the way that James—your dad—stood up for her. I think Paddy made his big mistake then. He probably should have apologized, and maybe he even wanted to. But he was a stubborn old coot, even then, so he kept silent. Your father threatened to leave, and when Paddy failed to apologize, James carried through on his threat and went to America, where I gather he lived very happily.”

“Until he died,” Allyssa said softly.

“Mmm. I think Paddy actually found out where you were right after James died. But, of course, there was no way on earth he could convince your mother to come home. Your father had always been his favorite, though, you know. I knew that you would be left something in the will. Maybe that was his way of bringing you home.”

Allyssa moved her fish around on her plate. “Thank you for telling me this. I asked Darryl, but he didn't remember.”

“Darryl remembers. Darryl and I are the same age. He couldn't have missed what was going on!”

“Then he didn't want to tell me,” Allyssa said. “He probably wanted to spare my feelings. Maybe he's afraid I'll believe my mother was a thief.”

“Who the hell knows?” he said, suddenly irritable. “Such a magnanimous gesture seems out of character.”

“Why are you so hard on him!” Allyssa flared.

“Because he's been a spendthrift, a parasite and a wastrel all his life,” Brian said flatly.

“Oh, really? And you think he's frittering away something that should rightfully be yours?” she asked sweetly.

“Damn it, no, I—” He broke off. “All right. Have it your way, Miss Evigan. Stand up for him if you want!” He leaned close. “But take care! I can't guarantee that I'll always be in the right place at the right time, especially when you're so damned careless!”

“I don't know what you're talking about!”

“And I pray that you never do! Are you done? Maybe we'd best get back before poor Darryl misses you.”

Oh, yes. She was quite done. She threw her napkin on the table and rose, walking out of the restaurant and leaving him to pay the tab.

He was silent on the ride back, saying nothing until he pulled to a stop on the bridge over the empty moat. She reached for the door handle, but before she could touch it, she suddenly found herself in his arms. Furious, she tried to protest his touch, but her resistance lasted only seconds. The thrust of his tongue was too seductive for her to resist. There was no way to feel his arms, his lips, and not remember …

And not feel the heat, the hunger, steal into her body.

Then, as abruptly as he had taken her, he released her. When he spoke, his words were a caress against her lips. “Remember, there's much more where that came from. Waiting for you whenever you can tear yourself away from poor dear Darryl!”

She gritted her teeth, then pushed him away with a vengeance and slammed out of the car. She ran across the bridge, but even then, she could hear his laughter. Furious with herself, she touched her lips, swollen now, bruised and awakened by his kiss.

She found Darryl in the great hall, reading the paper, waiting for her.

He rose quickly when she came in. “I was getting worried,” he told her. “Of course, I've been such a poor host. But I thought that you might enjoy a movie. There's a cinema in the next town over. They do a nice double feature. Then we might have dinner.”

“That sounds … wonderful,” Allyssa told him. She wished she could shake her feelings for Brian. Darryl was so courteous, so considerate! And she felt so guilty.

Was she a fool, as well, trusting a man who meant her only harm? She didn't know. Something deep within her kept warning her that Brian was the one who kept mysteriously appearing …

And then denied that he had done so. Yet who could look so much like Brian, talk like him, except Brian himself? And yet some other part of her kept crying out that she had to trust him. So where was the truth?

“I'll get my coat,” she told Darryl. “It might get cold later.”

“Great,” he said. “We'll have fun. We do well together, don't you think?”

She nodded a bit jerkily. “I'll just be a moment.”

And it
was
a nice evening. The first movie was very funny, and then there was an intermission, when tea was served. They stopped for fish and chips on the way back, and talked about everything but the estate. When they reached the castle once again, Darryl took her by the arms and drew her to him. Perhaps she stiffened; perhaps he simply sensed her reserve. He merely kissed her tenderly on the forehead.

“Good night, Allyssa,” he told her huskily. Then he whispered, so softly that she wondered if she really heard it, “Just give me a chance.”

She saw little of him on Thursday—and nothing at all of Brian.

But at ten o'clock on Friday morning the three of them, a number of the servants and the solicitor gathered in the great hall for the reading of Paddy's will.

It was long. Very long! There were bequests to this one and that one for long and generous service. Paddy might have been a stubborn old coot, but he had also been a thoughtful one, in his way. He hadn't forgotten a single soul in his employ.

The solicitor's voice droned on and on. After a while Allyssa ceased to pay attention. She stared first at the flames in the hearth, then at the swords and coats-of-arms on the walls.

Then suddenly she realized that there was absolute silence in the room.

And everyone was staring straight at her.

“What?” she murmured.

Darryl stood up. “Excuse me,” he muttered darkly. Stepping past her, past them all, he strode across the hallway. The heavy ancient door slammed in his wake.

“What?” she repeated, staring from the red-faced solicitor to Brian. “What is it?”

But Brian stood, too, then leaned over her chair, his smile icy. “Why, Miss Evigan, weren't you listening? Paddy decide to leave everything to you. Oh, there are conditions, of course! But the bulk and bundle are really yours. Isn't that what you came for?”

He straightened away from her, and a second later the heavy door slammed a second time.

This time it seemed to slam against her heart.

Chapter Six

B
y the following Monday afternoon her head was pounding. After Darryl and Brian had left, the help had all walked out, too, each and every person staring at her as if she were the wolf who had come after the three little pigs. The solicitor hadn't even had time for her then, he had told her to come to his office on Monday morning, when he would do his best to explain everything.

She had found Darryl that night at the supper table and tried very hard to apologize. He had simply waved a hand in the air. “You didn't do it, Paddy did. And I don't mind that you're the one in charge, I really don't.” He offered her a bitter grin. “I'd much rather you than Brian! It's just that I lived with Paddy, stayed with Paddy, all these years. I kept this damned place going all these years! I'm hurt by the way he treated me, don't you see? But, Allyssa, you mustn't be distressed. I'm sorry I walked out this morning, truly I am. If you don't mind, though, I'd just as soon be alone at the moment.”

Miserably, she'd gone to bed. On Saturday he'd avoided her, though she'd attended church services with him on Sunday, and she'd seen Brian there, too.

He had stared long and hard at her, then offered her a mocking bow. He hadn't waited to talk with her after the services, either. She'd spent the Sunday afternoon by herself, riding.

Pausing in the cemetery and looking down the stairs to the family crypt, she'd wondered, Paddy, what were you doing? Trying to make up for what you did to my mother and father? But you can't imagine what you've done to me now!

In the morning, while she was pondering a way to ask Darryl for transportation to the solicitor's office, a car arrived for her, sent from that very office. Then she spent the next three hours trying to understand the stipulations of the will. The castle was to be home to all of Paddy's descendants for as long as they desired, but all decisions concerning its upkeep were to be hers. Care of the cottage was Brian's. Care of the stables and business was to remain with Darryl, if he so chose, but he was to draw a salary. The remainder of the profits would be hers. She couldn't sell anything without agreement from Darryl and Brian. If she should die, control of the castle would revert to Darryl, with absolute control of the cottage then falling to Brian. It was extremely confusing and complex, and by the time she returned to the castle, she wanted to either lie down and fall into a deep sleep, or drink herself into a stupor.

Gregory informed her coolly that Mr. Evigan would be out for the evening, but that he himself would be delighted to see that she was served dinner upstairs.

Gregory would simply be delighted not to have to see her, she knew. But she would be equally delighted to dine upstairs, so she thanked him and suggested that he also bring her a bottle of Chablis.

He did so. She dined on a meat pie, trying to read a mystery novel but having little success. She sipped her first glass of wine before she ate, her second during the meal and her third when it was over. Then, for good measure, she drank a fourth before deciding that a hot bath might make her just as tired and help her avoid the agony of a hangover the next morning. She turned off the lights in her room. The fire that some kind-hearted staff member had built her was just burning low in the hearth. She filled the tub with hot, steaming water and sank into it.

The steam filled the bathroom like a mist. She laid her head back. The bath was working. It was so hot and relaxing that, despite the turmoil in her head, she nearly dozed off. Afraid that she might drown and therefore end the difficulties over the will, she crawled out of the tub, wrapping herself in a big towel. She started toward the bedroom, then stopped.

It was dark, of course, with just the fire's glow, and spooky, with the steam from the bathroom streaming out into the other room.

A man was standing there. Tall, dark, towering. Hands on his hips, watching her.

The steam cleared slightly.

Brian.

She bit her lower lip, clinging to her oversize towel, then walked out of the bathroom and straight to him. He stared at her without a word. There were so many things she wanted to say. She wanted to be flippant, to tell him that he ought to learn to knock. She wanted to ask him if be had crawled through the window.

Most of all, she wanted to ask him if he would remember being here tomorrow.…

But none of those things left her lips. Though she parted them to speak, no words came. He seized hold of her harshly, and his lips fell upon hers, hungry, questing. She wanted to protest, but, far more than that, she wanted to feel him. He kissed her endlessly, until her knees grew weak. Then he lifted the towel from her shoulders, let it fall to the floor, and then his lips touched her shoulder. His hands fell to her breasts, caressing them. He kissed her again, whispering against her lips, “You taste like wine.”

“Lots of it!” she whispered in return, and he smiled crookedly. He lowered himself against her, his lips falling first to the rise of one breast, then taking the fullness of it into his mouth, his tongue laving and caressing the nipple. Her breath caught, and her knees threatened to give way, but his arms came around her, supporting her. He lowered his body still farther, his kisses and caresses drying the last of the dampness from her skin. His fingers curled around her buttocks, bringing her close against him. Lower and lower against her abdomen he caressed her. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as he brought her closer, closer, his touch more and more intimate.…