Keepers of Eternity

by kimberly

  He shrugged and stepped back. "Too bad," he tsked. "You might have learned something."

  "Not from you!" Julienne flung, narrowing her eyes in anger. "I'm not interested in you that way at all!"

  "In what way?" he inquired, expertly assuming an unworldly and innocent expression.

  She shuddered, cursing his unnatural calm, his habitual wry smirk lost in the shadows falling across his face. He was playing her, jerking her like a puppet on a string, obviously enjoying every minute of her discomfort. He was impossible. He enjoyed putting people on the spot, watching them squirm helplessly. She decided to drop all pretenses. If he insisted on spoiling for a fight, she'd fight dirtier.

  "You know what I mean," she said with barely restrained contempt, forcing her voice to a deliberate calm she definitely did not feel. She held her body very rigid and straight, her fidgety hands resolutely clamped shut.

  Morgan glanced at her with elaborate mockery. "Not searching for any new sensations?"

  "No," came her icy rebuttal.

  "I see."

  "Besides, by the look of that lip, you couldn't satisfy one woman, much less two."

  His hand rose to his mouth and he rubbed his slightly swollen bottom lip with the tips of his fingers.

  "She likes the taste of fuil, of blood."

  "Oh, yeah?" she smirked. "Well, too bad she didn't wait until she got her lips around your co--"

  He silenced her with a single finger cutting through the air. "Let us not go there." His frigid eyes glittered with offense.

  Julienne moistened her lips so they would shine enticingly. Judging by his expression, she had gone far enough. Almost. Fearlessly, she returned his scowl with a widening of her artificial smile. She pretended to glance around, as if looking for someone.

  "Where is Ashleigh?" she asked, lacing her words with a dose of saccharine she didn't feel. "I hope she isn't ill."

  He rewarded her with a suspicious scowl. There were times when his eyes became like sharp chips of living black obsidian that longed to gouge and cut, and this was one of them. "She will be joining us shortly."

  "Smiling, I hope."

  "Why would she not be?"

  "Well, if I had just been fucked by you," Julienne said innocently, "I know I wouldn't be." Secretly delighted she had managed to pluck the needle from her skin and jab it in his, she steeled herself for the slap she was sure she was about to get, but she couldn't stop the words from escaping.

  Hearing her words, so perfectly delivered in a baby's-breath voice, Morgan Saint-Evanston threw back his head and laughed. The firm line of his jaw relaxed and, for the first time, he delivered a true, almost dazzling smile.

  "Very good, lass!" he applauded, dropping his aura of inflexible and unnatural composure. "There is bone in your spine after all."

  He reached into his vest pocket and slid his cigarette case out. Opening it, then selecting one, he planted the brown cylinder of tobacco between his lips, sliding his free hand into his trouser pocket for his lighter. Giving it a firm shake, he flicked it, lifting it to the tip of his cigarette. Drawing in a deep breath, he exhaled through his next words.

  "I was beginning to doubt you were a Blackthorne."

  Julienne leaned into the fragrant, curling smoke. The twinge in the back of her throat became a nagging ache. Oh, for the love of a cigarette! Just what she needed to calm her nerves. And here I've gone and insulted the hell out of him. Why can't I keep my fat mouth shut? Maybe he'd be a good sport and shrug off her cutting remarks.

  "Can I have one?" It was worth asking.

  Morgan reopened his case and peered inside before snapping it shut with a resolute click and returning it to its place.

  "No." That said, he turned and walked away without a backward glance.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Julienne could only stare in Morgan's wake, thunderstruck by his blatant rudeness. She wasn't going to beg him for a cigarette, damn it, but neither was she going to let him walk away unscathed. She hurried after him, catching up as he began to descend the marble stairs with their wide, curving balustrades. She held on tight, praying a heel wouldn't slide out from under her on the slick surface. What had she been thinking when she put them on? One slip and she could fall down and break her neck.

  Or, he just might give her a helpful shove.

  "Payback is hell," he'd warned Ashleigh. She had no doubt that Morgan Saint-Evanston had his ways of making people "disappear." He looked like a man who knew where bodies were buried--because he'd put them there.

  She sighed. Again with the dramatics, she thought. Why the hell should he kill anyone? He's richer than the Queen of England and paying his girlfriend big bucks for sex is probably a bargain to him--cheaper than getting hit with a nasty palimony suit.

  Feigning a lightness she definitely did not feel, she sniped, "I thought you quit."

  He barely gave her a glance. "I told you before I cannot resist sin."

  Unable to hold back, Julienne spat. "You're a real bastard, you know that?"

  He did not react to her anger. "I assure you my parents were legally wed."

  "I know your game," she said, ignoring his flippant--and pointed--prod at her illegitimacy. "You like to play out the dramas, don't you?"

  "Breaks up the damn boredom around here," he grumbled as they came into the foyer. He flicked the ashes off his cigarette, not caring where they fell. "Stay here long enough, and you will be ready to slash your throat."

  "Seeking the perfect oblivion?" For the first time, Julienne noticed his hand, the one he'd put through the car window earlier in the day, showed absolutely no sign of trauma. He'd been cut badly--she'd seen the blood dripping on the floor when he came into the foyer with Ashleigh.

  It was his left hand, her brow crinkled in thought. I saw it myself. She wanted to see his hand but was too afraid to simply ask him about the injury. Instead, she said nothing, putting it out of her mind. It was none of her business.

  "My search still continues."

  "Well, you'll be leaving soon. Maybe you'll find it."

  "I plan to."

  Something in the way he said the words made her shiver. Just as she was getting an interesting glimpse of the man with his defenses down, Ashleigh breezed down the stairs, stopping on the very last step. She was dressed in the barest of gowns, a designer confection that left nothing to the imagination in that the middle and most of the skirt had been slashed away. She did not wear the dress, it wore her. Its sheer, almost transparent material molded to every curve of her body. The dress was so tight, so tasteless, that the outlines of her nipples could be seen, and it was apparent she wore no panties or bra.

  "How do I look?" She'd left her makeup and hair undone. She wanted it crystal-clear how she'd spent her afternoon. Despite her smile, her face was swollen with crying, her eyes bloodshot above smeared red cheeks. Unnaturally dilated, her pupils were bullet-holes.

  She's doped. Julienne skimmed her from head to foot. She looks wretched. She's taken something strong.

  Morgan also could not fail to notice Ashleigh was unsteady on her feet. "What the hell did you take?" he snapped, pulling another draw off his cigarette.

  "Valium." Giggling, Ashleigh stumbled off the last step. Sauntering to Morgan, she pressed her body to his, her arms encircling his neck as she tried to pull him down for a kiss. His dark features went rigid with displeasure as he none-too-gently disentangled himself from her grasp.

  "How many did you take?" His words were tightly drawn.

  "Three or four," Ashleigh pouted. "Just something to give me a little re-lax-a-tion." The last word rolled off her tongue like molasses.

  "Last time, she took the whole bottle," he informed Julienne. Taking one final draw off his cigarette, he dropped it to the floor and crushed it out under his boot. "Dinner awaits, ladies." He turned and began to walk once more, his stride swiftly carrying him from the foyer.

  Julienne was stunned by his unruffled calm. He did not seem concerned that Ashleigh might
have again swallowed more pills than she admitted to. What if, desperate to try and gain his sympathy, she had overdosed a second time?

  He simply doesn't care, she fumed. Reaching out, she gently laid her hand on Ashleigh's arm. "Are you all right? You didn't take them all, did you?"

  Fluttering her lids on the tears threatening to fall, Ashleigh shook her head. "It's okay," she sniffled. "He's not worth a whole bottle this time. I knew better than to get involved with him. I thought I could handle myself, you know?"

  "But you fell in love?" Julienne asked, wondering how anyone could love that impossible man. Of course, that was precisely it. Why was it the worse a man treated a woman, the more she wanted him? More armchair psychology, but a proven one. She'd seen it happen time and time again, even in her own marriage. The worse James had treated her, the more she'd tried to placate him, doing her best to buy his love even as he was helping her destroy herself.

  Ashleigh's lips trembled. "Yeah. I did." She drew in a deep breath, covering her face with her hands. It was clear she was fighting to keep her composure and failing. "When he's good--God, he's good, but when he's set his mind on something…"

  Julienne put her arm around Ashleigh's quaking shoulders and drew her close. Compared to this tiny woman, she felt like a giant. A dozen thoughts were racing behind her calm face, the composed mask of a woman who had also seen tragedy visited upon her by a man.

  "And he's decided on leaving Blackthorne?" She felt genuinely sorry for Ashleigh and her obvious heartache. She remembered the hell she'd gone through divorcing James.

  "I guess so." Ashleigh wiped her tears away. "Won't say where he's going or even why. Just that he's going."

  Does it have anything to do with me? Julienne wondered. With my coming home? She knew he had been instrumental in driving Cassandra away. Was her return now sending Morgan on the run? The man had something to hide, of this she was positive. But what? Why always the mystery? Why couldn't anyone just tell her the truth?

  "It's best just to let him go," she counseled. As cold as he is, this is mild, almost civilized, compared to what happened to me. Morgan might have given Ashleigh a warning, but he didn't resort to taking a razor to her face. "If he loved you, he wouldn't treat you this way."

  Ashleigh nodded, wiping away her tears. "I know. But it hurts so much."

  "Pain is good," she said, remembering his words to her on the day she'd arrived. "Pain defines who we are. You'll go on and find someone else, someone who appreciates you, doesn't just use you to kill a few boring hours." Though his statement had made no sense at the time, she now realized with resounding clarity that what he'd said was perfectly true. He obviously knows what he's talking about.

  Ashleigh said nothing, but after a moment lifted her eyes and gave a weak smile.

  "Come on, then," Julienne urged, linking arms with her. "Dinner's waiting and I'm starved."

  Steadying Ashleigh, Julienne led her toward the dining room. Entering, she felt anew that old familiar chill creep up her spine. As devoid of warmth as the foyer because it was so precisely arranged, the room was suffused with an ambience one would expect to find in a medieval dwelling--or a monk's cell--for it was paneled throughout entirely with rich Cimmerian mahogany. The top and bottom of the paneling was carved with intricate examples of ancient Celtic scrollwork. A stone fireplace overhung with a stunning slate gray mantel took nearly the entire length of one wall. No fire currently burned in its depth, the illumination provided by twin crystal chandeliers ablaze with light.

  The dining room table was capable of seating twenty-six people. It was covered with a delicate lace tablecloth in a lovely fawn shade matching exactly the pattern woven into the oriental rugs. Cut crystal centerpieces held an array of flowers. Hand-tooled leather placemats were set with the finest china, silverware, and crystal. Even an untrained eye could tell each piece was an antique.

  "I see you decided to join us," Morgan said to Ashleigh.

  "Yes," Julienne shot. "No sense losing her appetite over you." Her voice was laced with dignity, the unshakable poise of one who would not be humbled.

  Taking Ashleigh's arm, Morgan pulled out the nearest chair.

  "Sit down and behave yourself!" he hissed, shoving the chair fiercely, giving Ashleigh no choice except to sit when the seat hit the back of her knees.

  Anlese Blackthorne entered then, making a sweeping entrance on Tobias Greenwood's arm. She was grandly dressed in an old-fashioned gown, its high neck and long sleeves harkening back to the days of the true Southern belles, a lady properly clothed as befit her station.

  "My dears," she greeted in her grand manner as Tobias seated her at the end of the table. "Were you quarreling?"

  "Of course, we were," Morgan answered, taking his own place at the head of the table, letting Julienne fend for herself. Tobias rushed to seat her, murmuring his apologies in her ear.

  "Sorry, ma'am."

  "It's all right," she said, unfolding a beautiful napkin and spreading it across her lap. Though her appetite was now forgotten in the ensuing trouble between Morgan and Ashleigh, she was determined to make the evening pleasant and spend some relaxing time with her grandmother. Let those two take forks and gouge each other's hearts out, she mused. I'm going to sit through this, come hell or high water.

  "Ashleigh and I are ill-matched," he announced. "It is only right we should quarrel."

  "You're being flippant and rude, sir," Anlese said with a small frown of disapproval. "I'd prefer we keep personal quarrels away from the table. I'd like this evening to be a nice one for Julienne."

  "We're trying to work through it," Ashleigh lied, trying to save face. "By tonight our spat will be forgotten." She threw a beaming smile toward Morgan. He frowned, replying, "As you wish, Anlese." His own expression said he'd rather be anyplace else than at the dining room table next to Ashleigh.

  "It's been a long time since we have gathered to dinner," Anlese told Julienne. There was a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "It's good to see the family together."

  "You didn't have to go to any special trouble for me," Julienne said. "Kitchen table would have suited me."

  "No trouble at all," Anlese assured her.

  Melissa Greenwood entered with the wine. Uncorking it, she filled Morgan's glass first. He tasted the wine and approved her choice.

  "Very good. Proceed."

  Melissa filled Julienne's glass, then Ashleigh's and Anlese's. Julienne picked up hers and put the rim to her lips to taste it. It was a wonderfully light vintage with just a hint of tartness that would complement the food to be served.

  Gretl came next, bearing a large soup tureen. Steam rose from its innards as she ladled a thick broth into the bowls, filling each just half-full, for this was just the beginning of the elaborate meal she'd prepared. She served Morgan last.

  "Not much," he grumbled, waving her away before she had a chance to empty more than half a ladle into his bowl.

  Anlese looked at Julienne. "I hope you enjoy my selection tonight."

  Julienne considered the rich bisque swimming with butter and cream. It smelled absolutely heavenly, making her mouth water. Her stomach reminded her it had not been fed since this morning. She picked up her spoon--hoping it was the correct one--and tentatively dipped it into the bowl under Anlese Blackthorne's watchful eye.

  "It's very good," she offered after carefully tasting the savory broth.

  "Wonderful, dear." Anlese lifted her fluted glass. "A toast. Welcome back to your home. May you have many happy days here."

  Julienne lifted her own glass. She sneaked a peek to the end of the table. Morgan, too, had picked up his.

  "Yes," he agreed. "May you have many days here." He drained his glass in a single swallow. Putting it down, he pushed aside the soup bowl in front of him and beckoned Melissa, who stood nearby.

  "This was the appetizer," he said. "Bring the main course. Scotch. Straight. The whole bottle."

  Here we go, Julienne groaned silently. The fun begins.
/>   Though Anlese easily kept the conversation uncomplicated, Julienne could not relax. While Gretl had outdone herself, preparing Cornish hens with all the trimmings, the food was wasted. She barely ate, pushing her food around on her plate until she finally gave up and dropped her fork. It did not help that Morgan and Ashleigh sniped constantly at each other, their remarks growing ruder and more cutting as the wine in her glass and the scotch in his went lower. Neither contributed anything to the evening except a presence.

  Julienne was relieved when the main dishes were taken away and replaced with tea and fruit. She refused the fruit and asked for a cup of coffee.

  Placing her hands around the warm cup Melissa brought her, Julienne listened to Anlese with limited attention. She took a sip of the warm liquid and hoped it would soothe the knots in her gut. It did not. Nothing could do so until this damned farce of a meal ended. Anlese herself had barely eaten, picking a bite here and a bite there, wasting more than she took into her body. As for Morgan, he took absolutely nothing solid, making Melissa take away the cold soup and refusing offers of anything else. He seemed to be playing a strange game to which only he knew the rules, drinking with an intensity that was, as Danielle Yames had said, destructive. He was not drinking for enjoyment; he was drinking to blot out whatever was in his mind.

  "Anlese," Ashleigh announced unexpectedly. "Morgan and I are breaking up, did you know?"

  Anlese turned her gaze to Morgan. "Then you've told her you're leaving?"

  Leaning forward, Morgan put an elbow on the table and propped his chin on his hand. His free hand toyed with the glass. "I have explained I will be resuming my travels shortly."

  "But why can't I go with you?" Ashleigh broke in. "Do I mean so little that you can just walk away?" She turned back to Anlese. "Can't you reason with him?" She held up her hand, showing a large diamond engagement ring. "Doesn't this mean anything?"

  Julienne's eyebrows rose in surprise. Had he really proposed to Ashleigh? This soap opera was getting more interesting by the second. "So, Morgan," she asked, with more than a hint of coyness, "is it true you proposed to the girl?"