Warning at Eagle's Watch (6 page)

She stood petrified. Who was it?

She crossed the turret room instinctively to one of the tallest suits of armor. As forbidding as it had appeared only seconds before, it suddenly became a haven, a protector. She darted behind it, hiding. For the footsteps were now climbing the steps, and their owner would be appearing at the top of the flight in a very few seconds' time.

Why was she filled with this unreasonable fear, this sudden panic that was enveloping her, making her breath come rapidly, making the back of her neck prickle as she stood in the darkness? I his crazy place had unsettled her so drastically. Had Scotty's fears of "vultures" and her own overworked imagination colored her ability to think clearly?

After all, it was probably Mrs. Raymond, or even Mr. Raymond, trying to find her, to give her a message, to show her around. There were a million normal reasons why someone might be seeking her out. She was being ridiculous in her fright.

She was almost ready to step forward into the slight beam of light that filtered into the turret room, ashamed to admit her slip of reason, ready to laugh at her sudden attack of suspicion. But just as she was putting her foot out from behind the polished armor, a dark head appeared at the top of the stairway. It was not Mrs. Raymond, it was not Mr. Raymond.

Indeed, the figure that climbed the last few steps, slowly and quietly, was a person she had never seen before. The fear was stuck in her throat again. Her heart was pounding with great intensity.

What should she do?

The dark figure spoke.

"Now isn't that the strangest thing? Where the heck did she get to? Nurse Holt? Nurse Holt, where are you?"

His voice was young and cheerful and light. Somehow it didn't fit the terrifying image she had conjured up of her pursuer. She took a deep breath and stepped out from her shadowy hideout.

"I'm right here," she said quietly. "Why are you following me?" Her voice was cool and calm, hut her heart was still hammering at a ferocious pace. She didn't like this place. She didn't like the things it did to her mind.

"Just playing detective. I guess. I suppose you're wondering who the heck I am."

"Good deduction, Sherlock." Her green eyes stared defiantly into his.

"Oh, a feisty one. I like that. Well, for starters, I'm Mitchell Morrison, aged twenty-six, most distant relative of the wonder-witch who owns this mausoleum. My grandmother was her cousin. Don't ask me to tell you what relation that makes me. I just call myself a distant relative. And you are Hillary Holt, the new Florence Nightingale of Eagle's Watch. So now we've been introduced. Nice to meet you."

His attitude was light and flip, and Hillary wasn't at all sure that the feeling was mutual.

"I thought the family was arriving tomorrow."

"So we are, formally, that is. The other three will arrive in fashion, late in the morning, I'd guess. But I got an offer of a lift most of the way here from New York, so I grabbed it. Some of us find it necessary to watch our expenses, you know. But I didn't want to bother Aunt Priscilla with my change of plans. She thinks I'm an irresponsible devil. So I just settled in and thought I'd announce myself in the morning. Old Mrs. Raymond took care of everything. Have you run into her yet?" His eyes were twinkling.

"Run into is exactly what I've done. We don't exactly get along, for some reason."

"Don't mind Mrs. Raymond," he said, throwing his head back with a laugh. She noticed his even white teeth, his wavy, longish hair, his dark clear eyes. He really was quite handsome when he laughed.

"Mrs. Raymond and I get on famously. I'm not here often, but when I am, she gives me the royal treatment. But it doesn't surprise me that you don't get the same. Her son, Tony, is about my age, and he was always the apple of her eye. But about three years ago, he ran off with a spritely little redhead, much to his parents' undying dismay.

"Of course, they blamed it all on the 'willful' girl, but I'll tell you this, old Tony was hooked on her. She was something else. I don't blame him at all, no matter how long it lasts.

"But Mrs. Raymond says I remind her of her dear boy, and so she coddles me something awful. Which I love."

He reached out to Hillary and touched her red hair. "And with that crop of red hair, Hillary, there's no doubt whom you'll remind her of. Best to lock your door at night!"

They laughed then, and Hillary finally relaxed. They moved down the winding stairway and into the better light of the corridor below.

"It was easy to find you, Hillary," Mitchell said as he turned off the lightswitch behind them. "You left quite a trail of lights."

Hillary felt her face flush with color. How thoughtlessly she had wandered through almost every room of the castle, turning on lights along the way to dispel the gloom and chase the shadows from the corners, leaving them on behind her. Her cheeks turned red with embarrassment.

But her dismay only made Mitchell laugh harder. "Yes, as I came around the last corner of the drive, I thought the place had finally gone up in flames. I must say I've never seen it so lit up before. But never fear, I followed behind you and dutifully turned them all off."

They passed through the servants' wing, where the sounds of living could be heard, the tinny sound of a radio and quiet voices, as the Raymonds and Annie, the cook, settled in for their evening.

They emerged at the top of the main stairway. The rest of the house stood silently. Only the rumble of the nearby waves beat rhythmically on the shoreline.

"Well, thank you for saving my face by turning off the lights." Hillary offered at the door to her room. "I think I'd have rather died that go through this place again tonight."

"Not too impressed, huh?"

"Impressed is not the word. Overwhelmed, perhaps. It's so full of history and tradition from the past. But as a house, as a home—"

"I know exactly what you mean," he said lightly. "You'd have to be slightly off your rocker to enjoy inhabiting a place like this. But I sure wouldn't mind inheriting the whole works." There was a twinkle in his eye. "And now I'll leave you, fair damsel of the castle, to get your beauty rest. Not that you need it, of course. Don't say anything to Aunt Priscilla about me being here ahead of schedule, okay? I want to stay on her good side, if it's possible to find one!"

She didn't answer him, but he took her silence for agreement.

"I'm glad you're here, Hillary," he said, looking deeply into her green eyes. "You have a lot of spunk. I knew as soon as Mrs. Raymond said you'd taken off to go through the castle at night, you must be one of the stouthearted ones, as they say."

"Mrs. Raymond knew I'd gone through the castle?" Hillary asked in surprise. She'd seen no sign of the bristly little housekeeper in her wanderings.

"Don't fool yourself, Hillary. You can get the impression that no one knows anything that is going on around this huge place, but it's rarely the truth. The walls have eyes, I think.

"And so, for tonight, I'll say farewell, my lady. My room is right across the hall, in case you should need my help to slay a dragon or some other gallant deed during the night."

He bowed with a flourish and kissed Hillary's hand, disappearing into the room across the hall with his laughing eyes and easygoing nature. And Hillary Holt felt very funny inside.

* * *

She climbed out of her uniform and got herself ready for bed in the attractive green room that was now hers. She climbed between the cool sheets of the huge bed and settled down for a much needed sleep. But it didn't come right away.

The day had been a long and eventful one for her. To find a place such as Eagle's Watch after her day-long journey had been enough of a shock. To have met and appreciated the unbreakable spirit of Priscilla Scott was excitement in itself, set in the gloom and somehow mysterious aura that hovered over the huge stone place.

But finally, her sudden reaction to the man who was Mitchell Morrison was a very unsettling experience. She put a hand up to her red hair, where he had touched it so casually in the far-off turret room. He had made her stomach light and flighty. And his kiss on her hand, a purely theatrical one from his point of view, had set her heart to pounding with a newfound excitement.

And these reactions were very strange to her. In nursing school, she had driven herself with the compulsion to succeed in the field of medicine. She had built a barrier around herself, not unlike the medieval suits of armor that stood in the castle. She had worked every waking hour on her dream, and had never allowed herself to become close to anyone she came into contact with. She stood alone.

She never bothered with the lighthearted crushes and interpersonal games that so many of her classmates had thrived on. Indeed, she looked upon their moonings as childish, immature. And now she was not so sure. Was she so different from them, after all? To have enjoyed the company of the young man she just met, a man she didn't really even know, and of whom she probably wouldn't even approve. After all, wasn't he self-admittedly here to be in Scotty's good graces? Grovelers, she called them.

Hillary sighed and pulled the covers tightly around her. She had a feeling that there was much she needed to learn about life. Her life had changed drastically in the past few days. She was having to face ideas and situations that she had had no experience with. How would she do?

She felt a flutter of anticipation in her stomach at the thought. She closed her eyes and drifted into a restful sleep, eager to see what tomorrow would bring at Eagle's Watch.

Chapter 4

Hillary awakened soundlessly in the middle of the night to make a check on her patient's condition, and found her sleeping well. When she returned to her own bed, she slept until the insistent clamor of her alarm clock announced that the hour had arrived to begin a new day.

It was early, and the sun was casting a pinkish glow to all she could see from her bedroom window. From the second floor, high above the rocks and crashing waves below, she was filled with a kind of awesome respect for the power of nature unleashed in the foamy tide.

She bathed and dressed quickly, feeling eager to begin the therapy program that would bring Scotty closer to recovery. She was spotlessly dressed, hair in place, looking cleanly scrubbed and fresh when Mrs. Raymond arrived with the breakfast tray. She greeted the woman cheerfully, ignoring the icy silence she received in return, and thankfully accepted the steaming platter of eggs, bacon, and toast. She was ravenous.

Scotty was propped up in bed when Hillary arrived a short while later, and she was wearing an expectant look on her face. It confirmed Hillary's instincts that she was more than ready to face the steps that she would need to take to improve her physical condition.

"Good morning, Scotty," she said gaily as she took her blood pressure, pulse, and temperature.

All were normal. She gave her her daily dose of digoxin, a medication prescribed by the doctor in the medical report, necessary to control her heart condition.

The next half hour passed quickly as Hillary helped Scotty to bathe and dress for the day, voicing encouragement as she eased her patient into her waiting wheelchair.

"Of course, the path ahead of you will be a strenuous one, Scotty. You'll need to rest often while we work on your recuperation. But since you can sit up so well, and move your arms a bit, I see no reason to doubt that you'll be up and around again."

She saw the pain of fear in Scotty's eyes. "I do hope you are right, Hillary. I really do. I have to admit to you that I've never felt so desperate and worthless in my entire life. But I'm starting to hope again, now that you're here. I trust you." Her eyes began to regain their teasing glimmer. "Though why, I don't know. But I'll work hard, you'll see. Much harder than I did for those silly pampered therapists in the hospital. My, I certainly did shake things up around there!"

"I can just imagine. And it's a good thing you didn't have me as your nurse then. I may have assisted you out a window." She delighted in Scotty's chuckle as she finished pinning the soft white hair to the top of her head.

"Yes, we're a good match, Hillary Holt."

Mrs. Raymond arrived to announce the arrival of Dr. Newburg. He followed the black-clad housekeeper into the room and greeted Scotty with a grunt.

"Making trouble Priscilla?"

Mrs. Raymond exited quietly. Hillary looked at the aged physician who stood before her. His hair was sparse and ruffled, his suit a bit unkempt. Despite the morning hour, he had the distinct look of needing a good sleep, which she soon found out was very true.

"Spent the better part of the night taking care of old Mr. Dolson down in town, Priscilla. He's taken another bad turn and I'm afraid it looks pretty bad. So don't give me any of your usual grief, woman, as I'm not in the mood to benefit by it. I've got sicker patients than you to take care of, and ones who are trying to get well. Hello, Nurse Holt," he said in an offhand way, as if he had known her for weeks.

"This is the not-so-famous Dr. Newburg, Hillary, kindly physician to all for miles and miles around." Scotty's voice was teasing, but for once, kindly. "Overworked and underpaid, eh, Doc? And he's been driving himself to drink, trying to convince me to take part in his schemes for rehabilitating me. To which I've put up quite a resistance, to date. You'll be glad to know, Dr. Newburg, that Hillary has convinced me to go along with your plan, so I hope I won't be on your overloaded patient list for long."