Midnight Rose (29 page)

It was barely daylight when Kate awoke in her own bed. For an instant she lay still, wondering at the emptiness that clutched her. Then she turned her head and stared at the pillow beside her. Gideon should be with her. Instead he’d cloaked himself in grief, retreated to a place where she couldn’t follow. After returning from his fruitless search for Jude, he’d gone to his bedroom, slept through the day. Kate had thought he’d awaken for dinner, but in the end she sat at the kitchen table with just Martha and picked at the food on her plate, hardly able to think straight, much less carry on a conversation.

Martha, in turn, had little to say, and after they cleared their dishes, the older woman had left for her apartment in Putnam.

It was the loneliest night of Kate’s life.

Sitting up on the side of the bed, she glanced through the balcony doors at the paling sky, grateful for the show of daylight. God only knew how long they’d have to wait before they heard from Jude or Delilah.

The anticipation was excruciating, but the sunshine would banish the shadows, at least for a precious few hours.

She took a long shower, movements hindered by heavy lethargy. After getting dressed, she headed down to the landing and paused, hoping to catch sight of Gideon. The east wing corridor was empty.

Beside her, the painting had restored itself to its original condition. A hateful, ferocious scene. She’d dreamt of it last night, of the hounds barreling toward her, the horse’s hooves stampeding around her, dust viscous and choking. She was the fox, just for an instant. The nightmare had jerked her awake, and now she shuddered to recollect it.

The silence hanging over the house whispered sadness. With a defeated sigh, Kate continued down the stairs, through the sitting room and descended to the kitchen.

Betty had just arrived for the morning, and stood at the counter unpacking a brown bag of vegetables grown in her home garden. She cast a hopeful glance over her shoulder as Kate entered the room. “Did Mr. Renaud find the boy?” “Not exactly.” Kate pulled out a chair and sat at the table. “But he thinks Jude’s with some friends in Roanoke.”

“So he’s safe,” Betty said, cherubic features brightening.

Kate opted not to speak and just offered her a wan smile. After a while, the cook brought her a cup of coffee and she sipped it in silence, oddly comforted by the familiar, busy sounds of life in the kitchen.

“I brought Mr. Renaud a quart of juice,” Betty said as she withdrew an orange juice carton from the grocery sack. “I thought the vitamins would do him good, put the color back in his cheeks. Have you seen him this morning?” “Not yet.” The urge to see Gideon caught Kate in a steely grasp. She jumped up, retrieved a tumbler from the cabinet and took the juice from the cook’s hand to splash some into the glass. “The juice is a good idea, Betty. I’ll bring him some myself. It’s his favorite.” “Tell him to come down and eat a little something to settle his nerves,” Betty called after her. “And you join him. You’re awfully skinny these days, Ms. Kate.” Kate was breathless by the time she reached the top of the east wing stairs. The corridor before her was shadowed, haunted by Jude’s absence. She paused by the teenager’s bedroom door, wondered why it was closed. Maybe Gideon couldn’t stand the sight of his son’s empty bed, the abandoned possessions.

How would he survive if Jude didn’t come back? And why wouldn’t he tell her the truth about why Delilah had the boy in the first place?

She knocked gently at Gideon’s double doors and waited for a response. Nothing. Her hand hovered over the knob, heart pounding. He was her lover, for God’s sake. She had every right to open the door and peek in.

Steeling herself, she did just that, and found the room empty, the bed rumpled and cold to the touch, as though Gideon had risen hours ago. She set down the juice glass and glanced in the walk-in closet, where his clothes hung in neat, organized segments. Below on a wooden rack, his shoes were lined side-by-side. Not a pair seemed to be missing, not even his running shoes. Where would he have gone, barefoot?

With confusion pounding in her temples, Kate left his room and headed downstairs to search the other rooms. In the library, she found the cinders still smoldering in the massive fireplace. The curtains that usually blocked the damaging rays of the sun hung askew. When she parted them and peeked out, cool morning air brushed her cheeks. The window was open.

Puzzled, Kate closed it and stared through the glass, her gaze sweeping the verdant grounds and the rolling landscape beyond the estate’s parameters. Her attention fell on the pool house. Something wasn’t right. There. One of the glass doors was ajar.

Shoving aside an odd sense of dread, she headed back to the kitchen and found Martha Shelton coming in for the day.

“Gideon didn’t find Jude,” she told the older woman, and Martha’s face seemed to collapse a little.

“Oh, dear. Gideon’s beside himself, isn’t he?”

“I haven’t talked to him since yesterday. He’s so withdrawn.” Kate paused, looked beseechingly at her.

“You’ve known him a long time.”

“Yes. A very long time.”

“The way he’s just…pulled into himself, where no one can touch him…is that typical?” Martha sighed and set her purse on the counter. “Kate, nothing about this situation is typical. I’ve never seen Gideon so distressed, except of course when Caroline died. I can guarantee you it’s not because he doesn’t want your comfort. If anything, he needs you now more than before. Trust me,” she added, touching Kate’s hand. “He won’t push you away if you seek him out. He just doesn’t know how to ask for it.” Kate drew a shaky breath and nodded. “Thank you, Mrs. Shelton.” “Call me Martha,” the older woman said with a rueful smile. “After all we’ve been through together, I think friends should address each other by their first names.” “I agree,” Kate blinked back an unbidden rush of tears. “Thanks, Martha.” Outside, the morning mist had dissipated with the warming touch of the sun. She crossed the lawn, breathing in the scent of honeysuckle and freshly mowed grass. Birds chattered and trilled in the nearby trees. The day ahead would be beautiful.

She paused midway and stared at the greenhouse, but no sign of life stirred around it. A few feet from where she stood, the pool house door creaked, buffeted ever so slightly by the gentle breeze.

A woman’s murmur, low, husky, floated from within.

Kate’s eyes narrowed; her pulse picked up speed. Swallowing a sense of disquiet, she approached the small brick building and pushed the door open with a finger.

The sight that greeted her drained the heat from her body.

Delilah lay sprawled on a wicker settee, while Gideon, half-naked, leaned over her, his mouth fastened to her wrist. The blonde writhed with pleasure beneath him, her fingers clutched in his hair, holding him with the same possessiveness as a mother feeding her child.

It took an inordinate amount of time for the picture to permeate Kate’s astonishment. When it did, she must have made some choked comment, some breathy sound of horror, because instantly Gideon’s head jerked up. “Kate!” Delilah withdrew from him, stretched her arms languidly above her head, smiled. “Kate. How good to see you again.” In the silence, a tiny lighthouse clock ticked off the seconds.

“I…” Kate tried to speak, and when that failed, tried to wrap her mind around the realization that Gideon had been engaged in some sort of sexual act with the blonde. Mind spinning, she backed up, bumped against the door.

Gideon got to his feet. “Kate—”

“I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Insult retrieved her voice from some deep, steadied place within her. “I just wanted to be sure you were okay. I guess…” She shifted her gaze to Delilah, then back to Gideon, dry-eyed, too devastated to emote. “I guess you’re more than okay. So I’ll just…” Moving on automatic pilot, she stepped out of the pool house and somehow made it as far as the wrought iron fence before her knees began to wobble.

Voices drifted on the breeze behind her; Gideon’s, low and angry, followed by Delilah’s soft, tinkling laughter.

Kate braced her hands on the iron bars and fought back a wave of nausea. She was sickened to her soul. She’d been humiliated, hurt, and disappointed many times in her thirty-two years, but never before so skillfully betrayed. In a moment, as soon as she could trust herself to walk, she would return to the house, quickly pack her bags, and call a cab without explaining anything to anyone. If God were on her side, she wouldn’t encounter Mrs. Shelton’s discerning eyes, or Betty’s warm concern, or the housekeeping staff, silent but always watching.

But what did it really matter? Nothing, nothing could make her stay in this haunted house another day.

Before she could recover, Gideon’s voice knifed through her from behind. “Kate.”

“Absolutely not.” She held up a hand without turning to face him. “You heartless son of a bitch. There’s no excuse for what I saw.” She paused, too enraged to breathe, to think. “How could you? How could you make me believe in you all this time? I thought you were good…decent.” “Look at me.” The sharpness of his tone brought her around. He stood in the blazing morning sun, wearing white drawstring pajama bottoms, eyes concealed behind a pair of infuriating, reflective lenses.

Her reflection in those sunglasses stared back, angry features warped like in a fun house mirror.

The absurdity of the situation brought a misplaced giggle to her throat that didn’t quite escape. “I don’t suppose you could stand here and scramble around for excuses without the sunglasses, just this once.” The words shot from her lips, seething with outrage, but Gideon didn’t seem to hear them.

“Delilah brought Jude home. That’s why she’s here.”

Kate trembled with a chill brought on by shock and injury. “Oh, I see. And you were thanking her in your own special way. Is that what you’re going to tell me? Don’t bother.” “Let’s go inside. We need to talk.”

Kate lifted her chin, defiant. “I’ll talk to you in hell.”

A humorless smile curved his mouth. “I see you finally recognize your surroundings. If you’ll come with me to the library, I’ll explain everything.”

“Oh, come on, Gideon. I’ve heard it all before. Just admit you’re screwing around with Delilah and be done with it. Let me off the hook. I’ll take my things and leave, no fuss, no games. How does that sound?” “Miserable.” He grasped her wrist, and the contact unleashed within her a surge of outrage so potent, it surprised both of them.

She wrenched against his grip. “You son of a bitch. You jerk! Who do you think you are?”

“All of the above. Come inside and I’ll tell you what else I am.” He didn’t relinquish his grasp, even when she twisted against it. The muscles in his arm didn’t even constrict with the attempt to hold her. He wasn’t attempting. He was succeeding, unbelievably strong and intent on having his way.

“Let me go!” She followed behind him like an errant child being dragged from the scene of a temper tantrum. “You can talk all you want, Gideon, but it’s not going to change the truth. I trusted you, but you’re the worst kind of monster. Beautiful on the outside but heartless within.” A muscle clenched in his jaw, his stride forceful and unrelenting. “Is that right? You can pass down a sentence that quickly without allowing the guilty party to defend himself?” “That’s right.” To her horror, he veered toward the kitchen door and paused outside without releasing her, waiting with infuriating patience while she squirmed and tugged in a panicked frenzy.

“I’m not going into the kitchen with you, Gideon! Betty and Martha are in there. They’ll know we’re fighting.”

“They might know, but it’s not their job to show it. Quit struggling, Kate, because you’re not going to win.”

The tears that stung her eyes had absolutely nothing to do with heartache and everything to do with frustration. He obviously didn’t view the past few weeks as the same monumental, loving experience of a lifetime she had, so why couldn’t he just let her go?

Gideon rapped hard on the kitchen door, a warning that sunlight was about to flood the room in case Jude was inside. Martha cracked the door and stuck her head out, her smile fading almost instantly when she read the firm set of her employer’s jaw and the hot outrage on Kate’s face.

Wordlessly she stepped back and allowed them into the kitchen.

“Is that the boss?” Betty said from the stove without turning around. “Want coffee?”

“No, thanks,” Gideon replied with forced cheerfulness as he hauled Kate across the brick floor and up the stairs.

When they reached the dining room and he paused to throw open the doors to the billiard room, she glared at him. “I may not be that strong, but I could bite the hell out of you.” “Not as hard as I could bite you,” he said grimly. “Trust me on this.” They swept past the pool table and through the conservatory, doors now opening before them unassisted and slamming behind them as though shoved by an invisible hand. Kate threw a bewildered look over her shoulder, then at the chaotic tremble of the massive brass chandelier overhead as they headed for the library. The entire house was shaking.

When they reached the library, Gideon finally released Kate’s wrist, removed his sunglasses and stalked toward the fireplace. Flames shot like a mini-explosion inside the hearth, and she leaped back with an alarmed cry. “Oh, my God! What’s happening?” “Sit down, Kate.”

Panicked, she backtracked toward the conservatory, but the doors slammed as she reached them, the force shuddering through her. The heavy, rolled blinds on the trio of windows to her right crashed down by themselves, boom, boom, boom , throwing the room into dimness. Curtains whisked closed, lights flickered on and off. Phantoms everywhere. Vibrating with horrified disbelief, desperate to escape, she yanked wildly at the doorknobs. They held fast.

“I said, sit down .”

Instantly her feet seemed to dissolve beneath her. Invisible fingers wrapped around her arms and tore a scream of sheer terror from her throat as she found herself being lifted and thrust ignobly into a nearby wingback chair.