Midnight Rose (20 page)

“Me, too.” His attention drifted back to the sleeping figure on the stretcher. “We can’t go on like this. I don’t know what to do. And the risks involved if I—” He cut himself off, a muscle flexing in his jaw.

“What risks?” She moved closer to him, laid a tentative hand on his arm, stroking gently in search of warm skin and finding nothing but cool, hard muscle beneath his sleeve. “Is there a treatment that could help him?” For a long time he didn’t answer, and she began to wonder if he’d even heard her. Then his gaze found hers, eyes so black that her reflection drowned in their darkness. “There’s something. An alternative therapy.” A humorless smile touched his mouth. “Very alternative. Very dangerous.” Kate let her fingers run along the soft gray cotton of his rolled sleeve. She didn’t ask him what the therapy was. Something indefinable within her was afraid of the answer. “Do you think it’s worth the risk?” “It hasn’t been before now. But what choice is there?” He drew a breath, released it, sending with it all the tightness in his wide shoulders. “Jesus, I’m tired.” “You need to rest. How long will Jude have to stay in the hospital?”

“Depends on who you ask.” Silent laughter shook his shoulders. “They were going to admit him to the burn unit. His injuries started out severe second-degree, but he’s already healing. He’s healing, Kate. I could explain it to them and they’d stick me in the psych ward. But wait until they look again. Wait until they check his bandages. They’re going to be astonished.” Frightened by the irrational claim, Kate rubbed his shoulder in a frantic attempt to soothe. The trauma of the morning had obviously confused him, left him desperate and illogical. “Gideon, it’s okay. He’ll be fine.

You’ll both be fine.”

The wildness gradually left his eyes with each stroke of her palm against his shoulder. He calmed, focused on her again; this time she felt his attention spiral through her and wrap around her heart. Even now, with the situation so dire, he made her feel like she was the only person within his field of vision.

“Ah, Kate,” he said softly. “Thank you. Not just for today, but for being a part of our lives. Thank you for not running scared.”

“I wish there was something more I could do,” she began, but he silenced her when his arm slipped around her waist and drew her close.

“Your presence comforts me more than I can say,” he whispered against her temple.

She could think of no reply, so she hugged him in return, closed her eyes, lost herself. After a long moment, she stepped back. Touching him, standing so close to him and breathing in his pain muddied her rational thoughts with longing. “Should I wait for you in the waiting room? I can stay as long as you need.” He shook his head. “It could be hours yet before we know anything, and there’s no sense in you wasting an entire day here. Go back to Sister Oaks; tell Martha and the others I’ll be home with Jude tonight.” Confusion lowered her brows. “But how can you bring him home when he’s in this condition? The doctors won’t release him tonight. They won’t—” “Come with me.” Gideon grasped her hand, led her into the room to Jude’s bedside. “Look at his face,” he whispered against her hair. “An hour ago his skin was raw. His lips were blistered. And now? Tell me what you see.” Kate peered at the boy’s complexion in the dim light. His cheeks were flushed but smooth, the bridge of his nose slightly reddened, mouth a healthy pink. A mild sunburn overall.

Blinking, she wiped a hand over her face and turned away. “Gideon, please tell me what’s going on. He can’t be healing this quickly. No one heals from a burn this quickly.” “The physicians will ask the same thing. They’ll want to run tests on him.” His throat moved as he swallowed his emotions. “This time, no tests. They don’t understand. They’ll never understand.” And neither did Kate. Everything rational and real in her world seemed blurred at the edges. Around here the truth is useless , Gideon had told her once. An elusive element. Dreams seem more realistic than reality. Reality appears dreamlike.

The only real element now was his pain, his need, and her growing love for him. Shoving aside her own bewilderment, she rose on tiptoe to press a trembling kiss against his jaw. When she withdrew, he caught her hand and stared hard into her face, searching…for what? She only knew he looked at her as though he could read what was written on her soul.

Then he released her and his attention returned to his son, and Kate felt his retreat roll through her like a rush of cold winter wind.

The steaming, fragrant water in the washing machine sloshed with a gentle twist, back and forth, stirring a rising lather of soap bubbles. Listening to the rhythmic sound soothed Kate’s raw nerves. She watched the blades dance through the suds a moment longer, then dropped in the last of her white laundry and gently closed the lid.

Martha Shelton spoke from the utility room doorway. “You really should let the upstairs maid take care of that, Ms. O’Brien. Polly hasn’t yet left for the night, you know.” Kate offered her a weak smile. “I’ve never minded doing laundry. There’s something elemental about it.” She paused, examining the older woman’s face expectantly. “Have you heard from Gideon?” “He’s home.” Martha paused, squinted at Kate. “With Jude.”

If she expected Kate to react with confusion, the older woman would be disappointed. After the last couple of weeks, nothing much astonished Kate O’Brien. Keeping a blank expression, she returned her attention to the wash. “So how is he?” After a surprised hesitation, Martha wandered into the cheerful room with the clean white walls and tile.

“Better, thank the Lord. He’s sleeping. Gideon looks like he’s been to hell and back.” Squelching the urge to bolt out of the room and up the stairs to find him, Kate stooped to retrieve her clean items from the dryer and piled them into a wicker basket. “Is there anything we can do for him?” “I offered to make him a cup of coffee, but he wants nothing. He told me he was going to bed.”

“Do you think he’d mind if I peeked in on Jude?”

“Of course not. I don’t think a herd of stampeding elephants could wake that boy.” Kate hoisted the basket on her hip and faced Martha. “Gideon said something to me at the hospital about a radical, alternative treatment for Jude’s illness. Do you know what he’s talking about?” Martha didn’t answer right away. She adjusted the frames of her glasses and reached to organize the bottles of laundry detergent on a nearby folding table. “I’m not sure. They’ve already run the gamut with both sides of the medical hemisphere. But I’m sure there will always be options Gideon hasn’t tried.” “He said this one was dangerous.”

Martha leveled an arid look at her, and instantly Kate felt duly warned. She was overstepping some sort of boundary. Every door she opened led to another brick wall in this oversized funhouse. Her job had, too. She hadn’t truly felt employed since Gideon tried to release her yesterday. And the rich, provocative promise that had been unfolding between her and Gideon…maybe it was all hopeless. The shield around Sister Oaks and its enigmatic master seemed impenetrable.

“I sent Betty home early.” Martha changed the subject as smoothly as if they’d never discussed anything else. “It’s every man for himself in the kitchen.”

“I’ve got food in my kitchenette.” Kate forced a parting smile and started out the door.

“I told you this house has secrets.” The woman’s rushing declaration was followed by a regretful silence, as though she knew she shouldn’t have spoken.

Kate hesitated, staring at the shadows stretched like wavering phantoms up the staircase. “Not as many as the people who live in it.”

“You’re in too deep,” Martha said with quiet urgency. “You’re not like the others, Kate. This place has embraced you. Gideon and Jude…they’ve fallen in love with you. It’s in their best interest—in your own—for you to leave.” Kate’s fists tightened around the basket handles as the urge to weep constricted her chest. “And go back to what? There’s nothing else that matters as much as this place and these people. You’re right, Mrs. Shelton. I’m in too deep.” “Then for God’s sake, be careful. I can’t explain it any better than that. Just…protect yourself. Heart, body and soul.”

From what?Kate wanted to shriek. This mysterious haunted house crap was for the birds, and so was Martha Shelton’s warning. Maybe Jude responded to the sun like a vampire fresh out of his coffin.

Maybe the kid could heal with supernatural swiftness, and maybe dates and times and facts didn’t match worth a damn in this inexplicably haunted house. But she was certain she could work through this after a good night’s sleep…if only someone could tell her what the hell was really going on behind Sister Oaks’ winking windows.

For now, she couldn’t think. The day’s crisis had drained her soul. “I take care of myself,” she told Martha in an icy voice. “I always have, and nothing here can hurt me.” Nodding goodnight, she continued up the steps, the scent of fabric softener rising after her in the cool, drafty stairwell.

Kate had passed through the living room and climbed halfway up to the main landing when the godforsaken hunting scene caught her eye. The laundry basket slid from her arms, spilling panties and other white delicates on the Persian runner.

The canvas was empty except for the landscape. The riders and their hounds, the cowering fox…all gone, as though a giant eraser had rubbed them away. In the background, where a blue morning sky once existed, gunmetal clouds roiled and gathered, caveat of an impending storm.

“No way,” she muttered, hysteria climbing her throat.

This place has embraced you.

As quickly as her resolve had risen moments before, now it dissipated and puffed away, replaced by a cold spiral of fear. She could be packed and ready to leave in a matter of minutes. Michael would drive the five hours to get her if she told him it was an emergency, that she had to get out now . That things had gotten too strange and out of control. That nothing in this house seemed right—not even her burgeoning feelings for Gideon, because they’d risen too quickly within her and she couldn’t control them anymore.

She couldn’t control any aspect of her life, not anymore.

Tears welled and stung her eyes as she stooped to retrieve her scattered laundry. When a strong, silent hand closed over hers, Kate screamed. She couldn’t help it.

“Christ.” Gideon blinked at her. “Did I scare you?”

“Did you scare me?” Uncontrollable laughter effervesced in her throat, a tad hysterical and limned with disbelief. “From the minute I stepped foot in this place, Gideon. Yes. Absolutely, you scared me. Look at me. I’m completely terrified.” His brows drew down, the silky camisole in his hand sliding into the basket. “You’re shaking.” Kate could only nod. It was either that or burst into childish sobs. She leaned and snatched up the rest of her things, restacked them in the basket, and somehow found her voice. “The painting, Gideon. For God’s sake, look at it.” He regarded her the way an orderly targets an asylum inmate, and turned his head to examine the hunt scene.

“Look at— God!” The breath whooshed from her lungs. Incredulous, she stepped closer to it. “The dogs are back, Gideon! A minute ago, there was nothing, a blank canvas. And now the dogs… They’re…” “Running and barking.” He rubbed a hand over his unshaven jaw, his dark gaze sweeping across the canvas before returning to her face. “They’re hunting hounds, Kate. That’s what they do.” She wanted to throw herself on the carpet and wail. “But that’s just it! A minute ago the entire pack was gone. Hunters, too! And that nasty little one in the corner…” Now growling and salivating once again with the best of them… “He’s the impetus! He changed first, the first day I was here, and then the rest of the dogs…oh, somebody just shoot me. I can’t take it.” She shook her head, tongue-tied with supreme frustration, and found him gazing at her with a sad sort of weariness.

“I know, I know,” she said with a sobbing laugh and leaned against the banister. “The house is haunted.

You told me that from the start.”

“Yes.”

“But you didn’t tell me that the Renauds are haunted, too. More than the house. More than I may ever be able to understand.”

Silence dropped like a gauzy web between them, brimming with unspoken emotions. Before today she’d wanted to curl inside his embrace and cling to him, love away the inexplicable darkness that hung over him and Jude like a perpetual storm. But right now she needed his comfort, his protection; as much as he frightened her, he was a powerful source of reassurance. A dichotomy she couldn’t dissect.

Kate swallowed her misery and glanced beyond his shoulder at the shadows engulfing the east wing staircase. “Jude’s home already? The hospital released him?”

“Yes.”

“He’s going to be okay?”

“His burns are healed, if that’s what you’re asking.”

She drew a shuddering breath. “I don’t see how that’s possible.”

“I know you don’t.” Gideon sat on the bottom step behind him, rubbed his hands over his face. “You should’ve left here a long time ago, Kate. I blame myself for encouraging you to stay. I tried to do the right thing and let you go.” “I chose to stay.”

“And now you’ve changed your mind about being here. After today. After a few wisely drawn conclusions.”

“Yes. No. I don’t know. Mrs. Shelton said that I’m in too deep.” He nodded. “I take most everything she says to heart. She’s a good friend and a wise woman.”

“But something holds me here. You know what it is.”

“Maybe.” He braced his elbows on his knees and folded his hands beneath his chin. “I don’t know what to do about it any more than you.”

“Why not?” Indignation trickled through her nerves. “Most normal people meet, find each other attractive, and start a romance.”

The corners of his mouth lifted. “Normal people.”

“And we’re not?”

“No, Kate. I know what I am, and as for you… I can’t speak for you, but here you are, long after an average person would’ve fled for her sanity. Why are you still here? Because you’re different. People like us…trouble holds a magnetic allure, doesn’t it?” Anger rushed her senses, threatened to drown them. “So that’s it, then. There’s no hope for us. The feelings we have for each other are just useless, and I need to do the smart thing and leave.” “It would be the smart thing. I can’t help you. I wish I could.” He regarded her so calmly, with such steady conviction, it stole any further argument from her throat.