Moonlight Masquerade

by Jude Deveraux

  Sophie watched Reede unfasten something from his belt. She hadn’t noticed that there was a whip coiled at his side. “You’re Zorro!” she said.

  “That’s what Sara told me I was.” He was unrolling the whip.

  “So where’s your cape? I was promised a cape.”

  “I left it at Sara’s house. Sorry to disappoint you, but I couldn’t handle it. A man has limits.”

  “Probably didn’t want to hide your muscles,” Sophie said under her breath.

  “What did you say?”

  “Nothing. I—” She broke off because he looked to be about to unleash the whip in the direction of the rafters—and she had an idea of what he planned to do. “I’m hungry!” she said loudly. “I’d really, really like to have something to eat. Now. This minute!”

  Reede heard the fear in her voice. “This is nothing. It’ll only take a moment.”

  Before Sophie could reply, he’d cracked the whip over the nearest rafter, high above his head. With her hand to her mouth she watched him pull on it to test its strength, then he went flying across the room, swinging on the whip handle. He ended up on the far side of the room and dropped down, grinning like a boy.

  “You should have dressed as Tarzan,” Sophie said, and she didn’t mean it as a compliment. His dangerous little stunt had scared her.

  “A leopard loincloth wouldn’t hide my muscles, would it?” he said, letting her know he’d heard her previous comment.

  Sophie couldn’t help but laugh.

  Reede retrieved the whip, rehooked it to his belt, grabbed the picnic basket, and bounded up the stairs two at a time.

  Within minutes he was seated across from Sophie on her improvised sofa and opening the basket. Inside were lots of little sandwiches, three kinds of salad, and two bottles of wine.

  “Did you pack this yourself?” she asked as he opened a bottle and filled two glasses.

  “Not a bit of it,” he said cheerfully.

  She didn’t ask, but she figured his adoring staff or even his patients had put it together for him.

  “Tell me everything about your life,” Reede said as he removed a plate from the straps on the back of the basket.

  A montage of everything ran through Sophie’s mind: fighting to get to go to college, her mother’s death, taking care of her sister, and the icing on the cake: stealing the Treeborne cookbook from Carter.

  Reede seemed to understand Sophie’s hesitation. “On Monday morning between eight and ten a.m. a FedEx man will stop at Kim’s house to pick up your package. I called a friend of mine in Auckland and it’ll go to him. He’ll send it to Earl.”

  “Earl?” Sophie asked, then remembered the pseudonym she’d used. “Yes, of course. Earl. I can’t thank you enough for this. In other circumstances I wouldn’t be so dependent, but—”

  “I don’t think you’re dependent at all. Sophie, that little sculpture you made was beautiful. Your talent amazes me. Why—?” He cut himself off as he bit into a sandwich.

  “Why aren’t I exhibiting my work?” She could tell by his expression that he hadn’t meant to be so serious, but she didn’t mind. “I have a theory.”

  “And that is?”

  “That every person on this earth was given a talent, whether it’s for art or music or . . . or the ability to keep a house clean even when you have young children.”

  “The clean house gene missed me,” Reede said, holding up the bottle. “More wine?”

  She nodded. “What makes the difference between people are personality traits. Take you and Kim for example.”

  “Go on.”

  “She wanted to make jewelry and you wanted to be a doctor, so you did it.”

  “I’m not understanding your point,” Reede said.

  “Kim had an ambition that equaled her talent, so now she has her own shop and a brand-new contract with Neiman Marcus. And you became a doctor.”

  “I think I see,” Reede said. “People let life get in the way and don’t follow their visions—or their talent.”

  “Exactly! When I was in school studying art I met some fantastically talented people, but after graduation I heard nothing about them. There was a young man who wrote a play that awed all of us. Know what he’s doing now? Selling used cars.”

  “Didn’t want it enough?” Reede asked, looking at her intently. “Is that what happened with you?”

  “I never had the drive of Jecca or Kim. I—” She looked down at her hands.

  “You thought of others before yourself,” he said. “I can attest that my sister never let anyone or anything stand in the way of her jewelry making. But you . . . You were needed, so you set your own wants aside.”

  “That’s one way of looking at it.” He was making her feel good about herself. For years, when she saw online anything that Jecca or Kim had done, Sophie had felt like a failure. But Reede made her sound, well, almost noble.

  She wanted to talk of something besides herself, and she was interested in his world travels. “What’s the most beautiful country you’ve ever visited?”

  “New Zealand.”

  “Really?” she said. “I would have thought someplace tropical, like Tahiti, would be.”

  “Too much traffic; too many houses.”

  “Most impressive place?”

  “Galapagos Islands, with Petra a close second.”

  “Scariest?” she asked.

  “Tonga, with Easter Island right behind.”

  “Interesting,” she said. “Most surprising?”

  “Hong Kong. Very clean, very modern.”

  “So where would you like to live?” When he started to speak, she put up her hand. “Let me guess. New Zealand.”

  “Yes,” he said. “I have friends there, and I like everything about the country.”

  “Have you always felt out of place here in Edilean?”

  He took a moment before answering. “I think so. It wasn’t easy living here as an Aldredge who wanted to be a doctor, but I wasn’t the Aldredge.”

  She waited for him to continue.

  “See this house?” He waved his hand toward the living area below. “I didn’t really like the kid who lived here. He used to make fun of me because I was interested in medicine. But I hung around him because of this house.”

  Sophie ate in silence, waiting for him to explain.

  “It’s like Aldredge House, the one Tris inherited. He got the name Tristan and the ancestral home.”

  “And you wanted what he had?”

  “I thought I did. But what I think I really wanted was to belong, to have that feeling of being part of a place.” He opened a box of cupcakes and held them out to Sophie.

  “If your family has lived here for generations I’d think you’d feel that you were part of the town.”

  “Maybe. I’ve been told that the Aldredge who settled Edilean was a doctor, but he was also a wanderer, that he rode on horseback all over the U.S.”

  “So you’re like him,” Sophie said as she broke off a piece of chocolate and ate it. The rain was still coming down steadily, and combined with the small space, she was feeling very close to this man. It was a day for revealing secrets. She thought that if they stayed there much longer that she’d tell him more about Carter. She needed to keep the conversation on Reede. “So you’ll leave as soon as you can.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “The very second.”

  Sophie did her best to conceal her disappointment. This was a man she knew was going to leave. Not like her previous boyfriends, whom she’d broken up with, or like Carter who’d shoved her out his front door then run upstairs to call his real girlfriend. At least with them for a while there had been hope that a man would be in her life permanently.

  “What’s that look for?” Reede asked.

  “Just thoughts,” Sophie said. “Heather called the party tonight McTern. I haven’t heard that name before.”

  She could tell, even through the mask, that Reede was frowning, and it took him a moment to r
ecover himself. “It was the name of the people in Scotland who founded Edilean. Somehow, the name was changed to Harcourt, but Roan is a McTern.”

  “You’ll look good as Zorro tonight,” she said.

  “My mother has a different costume for me and I have no idea what it is. This one is for you alone.”

  She could tell that something was bothering him, but she didn’t know what it was, but his good mood seemed to have vanished. “Did I say something?” she asked. “You seem—”

  “No, nothing,” he said. “Edilean does this to me. I don’t think I’m supposed to be here.”

  “Here in this house or here in—” She broke off at a sound at the front door below.

  Reede reacted instantly. He shut the little double doors that opened over the living room, putting them in shadowy darkness.

  “What is it?” Sophie asked in alarm.

  “I don’t know,” Reede whispered. “Could be someone I know or—” There were voices below, and Reede put his finger to his lips and eased the door open a bit.

  When he saw that Sophie wanted to see too, he motioned for her to move closer. She had to set the basket into a corner and she nearly knocked over a wine bottle, but Reede caught it.

  Silently, Sophie scooted closer to him and he pulled her between his legs, her back to his front. She peered through the opening, but all they saw was an open door, the rain coming down hard outside. She looked at Reede—and saw that he was looking down at the top of her corset.

  “The problem is out there,” she whispered.

  “You are a very distracting presence. I think we should—”

  “When are we gonna get out of this hellhole?” came a man’s voice from downstairs.

  Reede tore his eyes from Sophie’s décolletage to look down at the scene below. A short, skinny man, dripping from the rain, was holding the door open.

  “Come on!” the man said. “He’ll be here any minute.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know.” Another man, taller, beefier, pushed through the doorway. He had two big takeout bags in his arms that he set on the old dining table. He paused to look around. “How did Pete find this dump?”

  “It’s just for tonight,” the first man said. “And just because of the rain.”

  “And your driving,” the second man said, then halted. “Somebody’s been here. Look at those pans catching the water.”

  When the man pulled a pistol out of the back of his trousers, Sophie gave a gasp. Reede briefly put his hand over her mouth, his eyes warning her to be quiet, and she nodded.

  “Did you hear that?”

  “I can’t hear anything over the sound of my stomach growling.”

  The second man was moving about the room, his gun held out and ready. “I’m going to check upstairs. This place gives me the creeps.”

  Reede pulled away from Sophie and motioned for her to stay where she was. Silently, he went to the panel that covered the opening.

  Sophie had to work to be quiet when he stepped outside. He seemed to be gone for a long time but she knew it was only minutes. When he returned he put the panel in place over the opening and enclosed them. She couldn’t help but think that if the man with the gun knocked that piece of wood away that they’d be trapped. They were up against nothing, as the floor was a story below.

  Reede came back inside and looked out the door over the living room, and they sat motionless, in silence. They heard the second man come up the stairs, and listened as he moved about the second floor. Doors opened and closed.

  Suddenly, Sophie remembered the mess she’d made of the bed when she took the pillows and the quilt. She picked up one and looked at Reede in alarm.

  “I straightened it,” he whispered, his lips touching her ear.

  It all depended on if the man had seen the room before. If he had, he might miss the pillows and start trying to find out what had happened to them.

  When she heard the man’s footsteps outside the closet, Sophie held her breath. Reede silently put his arms around her. As the man came closer, Sophie went rigid with fear—and Reede began kissing her ear. At first she was annoyed with him. How could he think of sex at a time like this?

  But after a moment she began to relax. His lips soothed her, distracted her from the fact that just a few feet away was a man with a gun.

  By the time the man slammed the closet door shut, Sophie’s neck was arched backward and Reede’s lips were moving downward.

  When the danger was past, he gave her a perfunctory kiss by the earlobe, set her upright, opened the door a couple more inches, and looked out. He seemed to be totally unaffected by what he’d just done.

  He sat back down and stared across at her. “You don’t have a cell phone with you, do you?” He answered his own question. “No room in that thing. You know how bad that is for your celiac plexus, don’t you?”

  Sophie could only blink at him. What had happened to the man who had been only sweet and kind? “No phone,” she managed to say.

  “Look in the basket. I doubt if there’s one in there, but we can hope.”

  Sophie quietly rummaged inside the basket, but there was only the remnants of their meal. “What are they doing?”

  “They’re eating and there are two guns on the table.”

  Reede leaned back against the wall and was glad when the men turned on a radio. It would cover their voices. “It’s my guess that they’re meeting the man Pete here and they’ll spend the night. We may have to stay here until they leave.” He gave her a crooked smile. “Are you prepared for a sleepover?”

  If he’d asked that ten minutes ago she would have said yes, but his crack about her celiac plexus still stung. “Maybe I’ll go downstairs and introduce myself. I’ve always wanted to be a gangster’s moll.”

  She said it so seriously that he wasn’t sure if she meant it. Some women looked on guns as a sign of power. They—He realized she was kidding. Just as seriously, he said, “Think I could use my Zorro whip and knock both guns off the table?”

  “You couldn’t do that!” she said in alarm, then knew he was teasing. “What do we do?”

  “Wait. If we leave here they’ll see us. Damn but I wish I could call the sheriff. My gut tells me that these men are criminals on the run. Maybe I should distract them and try to—”

  “No!” Sophie said too loudly, then lowered her voice. “We’ll just wait. Even if we have to stay here all night. We have food—some anyway—and wine. What more could we want?”

  “Safety,” Reede said as he leaned back against the wall.

  He was doing his best to stay calm and not let Sophie see that he was frightened for her. If he were alone he would make his way across the ceiling beam, go down the iron ladder, and out the side window. He doubted if the lock had been repaired since he was a kid. If he couldn’t get out that way, he’d make his way to the side door.

  But he couldn’t do that now and leave Sophie behind. He’d already seen that she wasn’t exactly adventurous. Not the type to want to go hang gliding. She’d been frightened just by seeing him swing across a room. It seemed that both leaving her alone and getting her to go with him were out of the question.

  On the other hand, he’d seen some other things about her too. For one thing, she wasn’t like those wimpy women who worked for him. Say one word to them that wasn’t kind and considerate and they ran away and hid. But not Sophie. He’d been abrupt with her, and it had put fire in her. When pushed, she snapped back—or poured beer over the person who’d upset her.

  He leaned back against the wall and did his best to act as though he were so calm that he was falling asleep. But even with his eyes half closed, all he could do was look at her. She was truly beautiful—and built! The corset pulled her waist in so it was tiny, and most of the top of her was above the fabric. She had on a lacy black blouse over the red corset, but little was concealed. As for the bottom half of her, she had on a black skirt that was slit to nearly her waist, and every time she moved, her legs were exposed: slim, well
shaped, truly beautiful.

  Reede had no idea why his sister had tried to push her other college roommate onto him. Or why Kim had concealed Sophie from him. Maybe Kim had thought he’d be too dazzled by Sophie’s beauty to make an intelligent decision. Or, more likely, Kim thought Reede was too bad tempered, too tough, to unleash on sweet little Sophie.

  And maybe he was, he thought. And maybe what he was going to do to her in the next few minutes was going to make her hate him. But then, she was already going to hate him when she found out that he’d almost run over her in his car.

  Whatever the consequences, he was going to have to get her out of this place—and the only way to do that was to walk across the beam. But first, he had to put some backbone, some courage, into her.

  He opened his eyes and looked directly at her.

  At Reede’s look, the hairs on Sophie’s neck stood on end. “We have to get out of here, don’t we?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “If we stay here too long, people will come searching for us, won’t they?”

  “Yes.”

  “And if someone were to just walk in here, there’s a possibility that bullets would be fired.”

  This time Reede just nodded.

  Sophie glanced at the doors that looked out over the living room. She didn’t want to think about the fact that the only way out was across a narrow beam. It was too dangerous to think about Reede walking across one of those pieces of wood. “I guess our only real hope is for you to sneak out without being seen and to tell someone. Do you think they saw your horse?”

  Reede was watching her, and the fear in her eyes was debilitating. He knew from his rescue experience that if they worked together they could do it, but he also knew from one especially bitter attempt that he couldn’t carry a whimpering bag of fear. What Sophie needed was some determination. Actually, anger would be good. But how could he make her that angry in just seconds? His first thought was to remove his mask and show her the truth about him. But that wouldn’t work. He didn’t want her angry at him. At least not in that way. She needed to trust him so she could . . . His head came up. She needed to prove to him that she could do it.