He no longer looked angry, stinging from her accusation. His face had drained of color, his lips thinned. Pale light was visible through a gap in the waterlogged ceiling. The steps began again, blotting out the light briefly as they retreated to the other side of the house.
Clomp.
Clomp.
Clomp.
Then they vanished into the silence once again.
Lily fisted Marcus’s T-shirt with both hands, eyes filling with tears of terror. “Could it be Clive?” The words trembled from her lips. “Could he have sneaked back to scare both of us?” That didn’t even sound like something Clive would do, but she’d take the explanation. She’d take any explanation Marcus offered. Only he hadn’t offered one.
She pulled on his shirt. “Marcus?”
“Not Clive,” he managed. He lowered his gaze slowly, meeting her eyes.
She could still see the pain there, even beneath the fear. The pain she’d put there with her allegations.
“See if your phone works,” he said, pulling his shirt from her grip. That stung. She took the phone out of her pocket as Marcus backed away. He’d wanted to be as close as possible earlier. How quickly she’d changed things.
The button meant to bring her phone to life was answered by the cautionary beep of her deceased battery. The screen went black. She licked her lips and reached for hope, despite the dwindling amount. “What about yours?”
He shook his head.
That brought the count to two dead phones, a pair of unexplained footsteps upstairs, and one set of missing keys now in the hands of whomever…or whatever…was tromping around on the second floor.
And Marcus pretty much hated her.
Perfect.
He left her side so suddenly, she was alarmed to find herself alone by the door. She scrambled after him. “Where are you going?”
Without answering, he placed one boot on the first step of the staircase and one hand on the railing.
She grabbed his belt loop and tugged. “Are you nuts? Don’t go up there.”
He reached behind him and disengaged her fingers and started to climb.
Again that sting of rejection made her stomach tighten. You did that. When you accused him of tricking you into sleeping with him. But he hadn’t tricked her. She’d gone willingly—so willingly—had wanted him as much as he wanted her. And he had wanted her…a lot.
There hadn’t been a single cue warning her that Marcus Black was mentally notching his bedpost while he’d kissed her body. He’d admitted to liking her, told her he’d fantasized about her, but he didn’t have to say that to get her to say yes.
And he didn’t have to ask if she’d make love to him like it was a gift…but he had. She’d taken that rare moment of nakedness, literally and figuratively, and wadded it up, threw it in his face. The phrase “the bigger they are, the harder they fall” flitted through her brain. She wondered if that were true of him. Because she’d never imagined the level of vulnerability she felt coming from this man.
Guilt needled her. “Marcus?” she tried again. “Let’s not go up there. We can walk to the road. Call Clive from the gas station.” She could imagine them, hand in hand on the black asphalt, their steps matching as they laughed off the crazy “haunted house” notions they were entertaining now. She wanted that so much more than the tension and the way he was brushing her off. “Tell you what,” she said, forcing a smile. “You can keep one ticket to Hawaii and give me the other. We’ll call it even. We’ll—”
He turned his severe expression onto her and his stony glare caused her to back away. But stepping from the staircase to the floor didn’t improve her vantage point.
Marcus loomed, the light from the Coleman casting upward to his face making him look deranged. “Do you think I give a good goddamn about Hawaii?”
“You earned that trip,” she managed after swallowing thickly. “You were proud to earn that trip.”
He said nothing, only shook his head lightly.
Tears welled in Lily’s eyes. Not only from the fear stirring in her gut, but from the realization that she’d cut Marcus to the quick. And she couldn’t take it back.
She made one more desperate attempt to lighten the mood. “Probably just raccoons, anyway.”
“Wearing boots?” he grumbled. He turned and made it up three steps before she clambered after him.
“I’m coming with you!”
“No. You’re not.” He kept walking. “Stay put.”
“I’m sorry, okay?” She tugged his shirt. “I didn’t mean to imply that—”
He scowled over his shoulder, his face so fierce, Lily shut her mouth with a click. He stared at her for the count of five before he spoke. “Go back downstairs.”
“You can’t leave me alone down there,” she pleaded, her imagination starting to concoct all sorts of Scooby-Doo scenarios.
“I can and I will.” He turned his back on her and advanced another step.
She clung to him. “What if—what if something happens to me, and I have no one to protect me?”
He paused.
Lily held her breath.
Marcus sighed, arm on the railing, and dropped his head.
After what felt like forever, he spoke. “Fine. But stay behind me,” he growled.
She grinned, despite arguing for going the one place she didn’t want to go. His amenity was enough to squash her fears…or some of them, at least.
“No running,” he commanded. “I want you to walk. Carefully. This floor is a series of trapdoors waiting to happen.”
She nodded.
As if displeased with the turn of events, he frowned before turning and beginning to climb. Lily followed, the chills returning to her skin, her imagination running wild again.
If it wasn’t Clive or raccoons, what was tromping around on the second floor of Willow Mansion?
Suddenly, she didn’t want to know.
She really, really didn’t.
Chapter 11
Marcus’s hands nearly slipped from the sweat-slicked handle of the lantern. At least his anger had masked the very real fear carving a path into his insides like a dull knife.
He hadn’t taken Lily’s keys. Hadn’t even seen her keys. And he knew about the bells. Made fun of her for it once at work. What he hadn’t told her was that while he was outside, he’d heard the faint jingling, too. It was the reason he’d double-timed it back to the house. He’d been sure she’d found them, had been shocked when she’d pointed the finger at him.
But worse was the accusation that had followed. As if he’d slept with her out of convenience. He tightened his fist around the lantern. Yeah, he was still pissed off about that. He thought they’d connected down there, thought that—shit. Since when had he turned into such a girl after sex?
She walked behind him to his left, and he reached back to scoot her out of the way before she hurt herself. Shining the lantern on the step she’d nearly impaled herself on, he said, “Watch those nails.” Then, because he couldn’t keep from touching her, he took her hand and guided her around another rotted board with “tetanus shot” written all over it.
He hated that she thought he’d swindled her into making lo—having sex with him. It hurt. Like, hurt hurt. And Marcus didn’t do hurt. Hurt was for people who cared way too much, and he wasn’t stupid enough to believe he mattered that much to Lily. Problem was, he was beginning to think she meant that much to him. She might have seen tonight as a fun little fling to fill their time together in the dark, but for him, being with her, having her see him as something other than a coworker to challenge—had been a dream come true.
Not just the sex—although, sweet holy mother, that was a freaking out-of-body experience—but watching all of her walls crumble at his feet. Watching her give herself so fully to him, trusting him. That’s what had blown his mind.
But even after all that…that depth, Lily still hadn’t taken him seriously. Which sucked. Because he’d done something with her he’d never done
with anyone else. He’d let down his guard. Completely. He’d been bare in more ways than one when he’d moved inside her, while committing the scent of her hair and each soft sound she emitted to memory.
Yep. He was a fucking goner.
They reached the landing where the hallway divided. To the right, a series of doors. To the left, just one room, its door off the hinges, moonlight spilling into the hallway from the window.
“Don’t you dare say ‘split up.’” Lily stopped mangling his shirt and flattened her hand over his ribs. His skin had been branded by her unforgettable touch, and he ached to hold her again. She’d ruined him. He tried to hate her for it but couldn’t.
She folded into herself, her blue eyes not quite meeting his face. He’d hurt her feelings. And no matter how much he insisted to himself that she deserved it for hurting his, he hated to see that look on her face. So he focused on a point over her shoulder instead.
Lily let loose a frustrated groan.
He opened his mouth to tell her she wasn’t the only one who was frustrated, but she didn’t look upset. She looked terrified, her body frozen in place, eyes wide and focused off to the side, white knuckles compressing her upper arms hard enough to cut off the circulation.
A floorboard creaked behind her. “That wasn’t me,” she said.
Every muscle in his body coiled. He moved quickly, lashing an arm around her and stumbling to the nearest wall. He pressed his back into it, keeping her at his side, one arm wrapped around her protectively.
In the light of the Coleman, he tried to make out figures in the shadows. He held his breath to try and locate the source of the phantom groan. Nothing. Nothing but the almost audible rattle of his nerves.
Marcus was far from timid, but there was something…otherworldly happening in this place. And he didn’t like it. Not at all.
Lily clung to his arm. He could feel the cold chill of her fear as much as his own.
“I want to leave.” Her voice was as fragile as glass—not something he was used to hearing from her.
“So do I,” he admitted. “Let’s find those keys.”
With strength he didn’t feel, he pushed away from the wall, held tightly to her hand, and walked to the first of many closed doors.
He lifted one hiking boot and kicked the door open.
“May as well start here.”
…
Holy Hand Grenades of Antioch.
Arms wrapped tightly around her waist, Lily scanned the room she’d followed Marcus into, shivering as a gust of air sifted through the rip in the roof over her head. It’d been there a while, if she had to guess. The boards at her feet were decayed from water damage and there was a roll-top desk tilted awkwardly in the corner, one of its legs having broken through the floor.
Marcus inspected a built-in bookshelf on the far wall, shoving soggy books from the shelves while searching for the missing keychain.
A spiderweb overhead caught her eye and she backed away from it and the fat-bodied black jewel in its center. Something squished beneath her shoe, and she looked down to find a soaking Oriental rug.
“Careful,” he said. “Any one of these floorboards could give.” His black brows arched over his nose. He was still angry with her, but that didn’t keep her from admiring the way the shadows darkened his face, making him look mysterious and sexy.
Again, her heart ached with regret. For insinuating that she’d thought the worst of him. She didn’t. She was just…scared and had lashed out like a cornered cat.
Lily took a step toward him. “Why don’t you just say it?” she prompted. She’d feel better if he’d talk to her. Or argue with her. She could handle that a lot better than his silence.
He held a book open in his palm. He shut it with a damp slap and tossed it onto the shelf. “What do you want me to say?”
“That you’re angry with me.”
He reached for another book, avoiding her eyes. “I’m not angry with you.”
“My keys aren’t being used as a bookmark, so I doubt you’ll find them in there.” She grabbed the edge of the book in his hand, but he didn’t let go. Much like the tug-of-war over the plastic ax earlier, his strength won. He dragged her to him. She allowed him to, stopping short of stepping on his toes. She relinquished the book, and he tossed it onto the shelf with the others.
She waited.
He watched her silently.
“Marcus.”
“You think I arranged this entire evening to maneuver my way into your pants?”
She flinched. That was fair and basically what she’d accused him of doing. But it wasn’t the truth. “I wanted into yours just as badly,” she admitted.
Despite his narrowed eyes, she felt as if she’d made a bit of headway with that truth.
He lifted his chin and looked down at her. “And?”
She felt her eyebrows rise. “And?”
He shifted his body so he faced her, so close that his broad shoulders blocked her view of the bookshelf behind him. Leaning closer to her, his breath sifting into her hair, he said, “And did I satisfy your curiosity?”
His tone was hard, his back rigid. And yet she sensed he really wanted to know. Was he actually asking how he was in the sack? If she’d had scorecards, she’d have raised a number ten.
In each hand.
“You want the truth?” she asked.
A soft grunt, then, “Why not?”
She risked placing her palm on his chest. He let her. “You left me satisfied,” she said, “yet wanting more.”
He blinked, cocking his head to one side in suspicion. “Don’t tease me, McIntire.”
At the blatant use of her last name and his teasing tone, Lily knew she’d gotten through to him. She could feel the shift in the air between them. He wasn’t mad at her anymore. If she wasn’t worried he’d think she was gloating, she may have smiled.
She pulled her hand from his chest and drew an X over her heart. “No fooling.”
His mouth hitched at the corner. Just enough to light the wry glint in his eyes. “You’re not just fishing for a compliment for yourself?” Marcus was back to himself. His charming, rakish, cocky self. And so damn sexy, her knees went gooey.
She shook her head. “No. I know how good I am in bed.”
The barest dent of the dimple in his cheek tried to form, but he held his expression in check. “Come here,” he commanded.
With pleasure.
One step should have brought her into the circle of his arms, but the moment she set foot on the rotted board between them, it gave way beneath her. She screeched and felt herself begin to fall, heard the tear of her pants as they caught on a jagged piece of flooring.
Marcus reacted quickly, gripping her upper arm and tugging her roughly to his side in time for her to see one of her sneakers fall to the first floor below. Lily stared, knowing very well that could have been her limp body..She tightened her hold around his torso as he leaned forward—ever so carefully—and untangled her pant leg from the broken board.
He straightened, pulling her close, then he yelled, “This is so stupid!”
Lily jerked in his arms. It may have been the first time she’d ever heard him raise his voice. No matter what went wrong at work, no matter what had Clive pacing and cursing in the conference room, Marcus was the cool, calm, and collected one.
His hand splayed on the small of her back, warm and gentle despite his body vibrating with anger, or fear, or a combination of the two. She peered up at him.
His eyes, and tone, softened. “Don’t do that again.”
She nodded.
Like he couldn’t help himself, he pressed her against his body and kissed her. When he backed away, he moved to lift her into his arms.
She stayed him with one hand. “I’m not sure how much combined weight this floor can take.”
Given the grimace on his face, he either didn’t like her suggestion or was upset he hadn’t thought of it first. He hesitated as if trying to decide to listen to
her or not.
“I can walk.”
With a sigh, he finally mumbled. “Fine. But hold onto me. And stay on the inside wall.”
He made a wide arc around the fresh hole in the floor and Lily obeyed, following his path, not daring to step anywhere he didn’t step first. She hobbled into the hallway in one shoe and one now-sopping sock, leaning on him for support.
Jingling bells brought him to a halt and her next to him. This time, the disembodied voice from earlier followed. The same tinny feminine voice uttered one word.
“Go.”
Lily, shaken from her near-death experience, was surprised she hadn’t fainted dead away. Her teeth chattered behind her numb lips. Marcus wasn’t the least bit shaky, but the arm around her had turned to steel.
“What the hell was that?” he grated.
Her teeth clicked together again. “It’s Essie,” she said, the shake working its way over her entire body. Lily couldn’t see her, could barely hear her, but she felt her. She could no more deny Essie Mae’s presence than she could deny Marcus’s.
And for the first time, Lily recognized the desperation in Essie’s voice laced beneath the command for them to leave.
Essie was afraid.
…
Lily’s claim that a dead woman had spoken to her may have sounded a bit loony-tunes a few hours ago, but her claims had since become warranted.
As sure as every dark hair stood at attention on his epidermis, Marcus had heard Essie Mae speak.
“Over there.” He gestured with the lantern toward the sound of the voice, his arm lifting on its own. Since entering the freaking Twilight Zone seconds ago, his brain had disconnected from his body. He could no longer make sense of what, before now, he’d thought of as impossible.
He put one leaden foot in front of the other and advanced toward the sound of the bells, now coming from the moonlit room at the end of the hall. Each step grew heavier than the last, more reluctant. Yet a morbid curiosity nudged him forward.
The sound stopped when they reached a large room on their left. He took a steadying breath, half lifting Lily off the floor with one arm. She limped alongside him, trying to keep her sock-clad foot off the floor. He still wanted to carry her, but her argument that the rotted floorboards might not hold both of them and they’d go crashing to their demise was warranted. He said a silent prayer he didn’t have a heart attack and die, leaving her at the mercy of whatever lurked these halls.
If You Dare (Entangled Flaunt) Page 8
