Glimmer (Glimmer and Glow #1)

by BETH KERY

  “You make me feel special,” she said airily, smiling and looking around the sun-dappled and shaded terrace while a gentle lake breeze tickled her cheek.

  “What did I tell you yesterday?”

  She blinked at the sudden steel in his tone.

  “That I was?” she asked, laughing because she was surprised at his sudden seriousness.

  He reached under their small breakfast table and put his hand just above her knee. He squeezed.

  “You are special to me. Don’t make light of it.”

  Alice opened her mouth to reply, but the blaze of heat in his eyes left her tongue-tied. His phone started to ring. He held her stare, his expression hard, while he took it from his pocket. He glanced at the number and frowned. “Would you mind if I took this?” he asked her. “I wouldn’t if it weren’t important.”

  “No problem,” Alice assured. “I’ll just take our plates in and you can have privacy out here.”

  “Thanks,” Dylan said, hitting a button on his phone.

  Inside, Alice chatted with Marie as she helped her put their dishes in the washer. She thought of that intense moment with Dylan just now. He’d been irritated by her flippancy in regard to his feelings for her. He’d been telling her loud and clear that she might minimize her feelings because she was scared, but she’d better not do the same for his.

  “How long have you worked here?” she asked Marie.

  “Ever since Dylan came to live, six years ago,” Marie replied, handing Alice the last plate. Alice put the plate in and closed the dishwasher, wiping off her hands with a towel. “I see you’re used to working for yourself instead of being waited on,” Marie observed as she transferred the omelet skillet to the sink. “Another good thing about you.”

  Alice grinned and leaned against the counter. “What was the first thing?”

  Marie nodded pointedly through the window over the sink. Outside it, she caught a glimpse of Dylan pacing distractedly while he spoke on the phone.

  “You made him smile,” Marie said.

  Alice flushed with pleasure at the brisk, potent compliment. She glanced around the kitchen. Despite its luxury and expensive appliances, the room was stamped with Marie’s character: warm and comfortable yet spotlessly clean and utilitarian. This room belonged to Marie, and there was no doubt about it.

  “Where is the gong?” Alice asked impulsively, searching the countertops.

  “Gong?” Marie repeated blankly as she rinsed out the skillet.

  “The one you use to get the caterers’ and servers’ attention? Dylan told me how you found it here in the house. He said it was an antique. It sounded interesting. I was hoping to see it,” Alice explained, remembering how she’d heard the clear, sweet, mysterious sound on that first night she’d entered the castle.

  “You’ll have to ask Dylan, honey, because I haven’t got any idea what you’re talking about. Maybe he keeps this gong in his den or something. Do you want another muffin before I put them away?” Marie asked, picking up the muffin tin.

  “Uh … no, but thank you. They were delicious. Everything was,” Alice said distractedly, her brows knitted as she stared out the back window at Dylan. A chill went through her. Why had he told her that story about the gong? It didn’t make any sense.

  Just like so much else doesn’t.

  “Will you let Dylan know I went upstairs to make a phone call?”

  “You got it,” Marie said.

  She flew up the back stairs, her heart starting to race. She didn’t have much time. Dylan might finish his call any second, although he did look quite intent from what she’d glimpsed through the window just now. The back stairs led to a place that was farther down the hallway than the main staircase. When Alice emerged, she was only fifteen feet away from that branch of the hallway where Dylan had found her that strange night …

  From that portion of the hallway where she’d seen that phantom figure.

  A few seconds later, she stood in front of the carved wood door, her breath coming in erratic puffs. The soft roar in her ears grew louder, becoming a rushing wind.

  Don’t just stand here, stupid. There isn’t much time. Do it.

  In one swift, desperate motion, she twisted the knob and threw open the door. She blinked. Bright sunlight flooded out into the dim hallway, bathing her face and bare arms and legs.

  Her lungs burning, she stepped across the threshold.

  “THERE you are,” Dylan said when he saw Alice standing at the window in his bedroom suite. She had the blind up and the curtains open, and her back was to him. “Sorry about taking so long. Did you already make your call to Maggie?”

  He paused in the process of walking across the room toward her. She stood stock-still. It was like he hadn’t spoken at all. Sunlight flooded around her. He had the random, distracted thought that the sunlight illuminated the golden-reddish roots of her hair, giving the impression of a corona around her head.

  “Alice?”

  He ate up the distance between them when she still didn’t respond. He thought she’d jump when he touched her upper arm—she seemed lost in her thoughts—but she turned around without flinching. She met his stare.

  “Why are you lying to me?”

  A chill passed through him—not just because of her flat, calm query, but the strange, masklike quality of her expression.

  “Lying to you? What are you talking about?”

  She pointed wordlessly out the window, watching his face the whole time.

  “So?” he asked, seeing nothing out of the ordinary through the pane of glass. Outside everything looked normal. She was another story. “Alice, what’s wrong?” he demanded tensely.

  “The driveway?” she asked, and despite his bewilderment, he was glad to hear the familiar biting sarcasm and anger in her tone. He much preferred it over the marble-like Alice he’d just seen. “You had a magnificent lake view in that other room. Why did you move in here, where you have a view of the driveway?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I went in there!” She pointed, her eyes blazing. “I went into that room just now. The one you wouldn’t let me go into that night because there was a damaged floorboard. There was no damaged floorboard! It’s your old room. The one you used to occupy before you moved into this bedroom. It looks like it’s the master suite of this whole damn palace. Some of your old things are still in there.”

  Shit.

  “Alice—” he began, alarm making the hair on his forearms stand on end.

  “You told me when I first came here that you liked the view better in this suite, and that’s why you moved!” She pointed again out the window. “You liked the view of the driveway better than the most amazing, stunning lake view I’ve seen yet in this house? You liked this room versus what looks to be some kind of fantasy suite?” she asked, her voice high-pitched with disbelief. He put his hands on her upper arms and turned her to face him.

  “I can explain about that.”

  “Really?” she asked, her expression wild. She lurched past him, breaking his hold on her. She seemed to think again and spun around, panting. “All right. Go ahead. And while you’re at it, explain why you told me there was a hole in the floorboard in that room in order to keep me out of it. Face it, Dylan. You’re a liar. You lied so that I wouldn’t go in that room. You lied about why you moved over into this one! You lied about that gong. Marie had no idea what I was talking about when I mentioned that gong I heard my first day here. I can’t figure out why you’re lying, because they seem like completely stupid things to lie about, but you are doing it! I’m not going crazy,” she yelled, panting heavier now. “It’s you. You’re lying!”

  He put up a cautionary hand and approached her, holding her stare. “I’m not denying it, Alice. Let me explain.”

  “I’ve thought this whole thing between us was too good to be true from the beginning. I knew there had to be some kind of a catch. I knew you were lying,” she said under her breath.

&
nbsp; “Jesus,” he grated out, because he saw she was shaking. He grasped her shoulders, refusing to let go even when she flinched. “Listen to me. It’s true,” he said. “I have been lying about a few things. But I only did it because I was worried about you.”

  She looked up at him, her broken, stunned expression cutting him to the quick.

  “You were worried about me? You made me feel like I was going nuts, when it’s you that’s crazy. How could my knowing about some stupid room alleviate your worry about me?” She broke frantically from his hold and stumbled. He caught her in time to keep her from falling. He brought her closer to his body.

  “Look at me,” he demanded. Her frantic, skittering gaze caught on his stare. “I will explain, but you have to calm down, Alice.”

  “Let. Go. Of me,” she grated out succinctly.

  He immediately released her and stepped back. They regarded each other warily from a distance of several feet, both of their breathing erratic. She jumped when someone knocked on the door.

  “What?” he bellowed, keeping his gaze fixed on Alice’s pale face.

  “Dylan? It’s me,” a woman said hesitantly, her voice weak and muffled because of the thickness of the door.

  “Not now, Louise,” he shouted.

  “I’m sorry. It’s just that Sidney Gates is here. Should I tell him you’re not available?”

  Alice looked like a wild animal backed into a corner. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she flew at him in that minute, teeth bared. Fuck. He’d thought he’d known the meaning of helplessness, but this was a whole new level of the definition. He raked his fingers through his hair and closed his eyes briefly.

  “No. Tell Sidney Alice and I will meet him in my den,” he called to Louise, sounding much more calm than he felt.

  He met Alice’s suspicious stare, and took a slow, steady inhale to brace himself for the unknowable.

  For the worst.

  ALICE swallowed, attempting desperately to slow her choppy breathing. “I don’t want to go meet with some stranger. I want the truth!” she told Dylan.

  “That’s what I’m planning to give you. Sidney can help. He knew Alan Durand.”

  “Why should I care about that?” she asked, her amazed disbelief amplifying. “Stop bullshitting me and—”

  “Alice,” Dylan said sharply, interrupting her hissing demand. She blinked, her words freezing on her tongue. “Sidney knew your father.”

  Her mouth fell open.

  “He knew my father?” she asked incredulously. This couldn’t be happening. Why was this happening? Shivers of dread crawled beneath her skin. Dylan put out his hand, as if to escort her out of the room, but she stepped back, avoiding his touch.

  “Just lead the way,” she managed coldly.

  It felt like a pair of hands clutched her throat, squeezing until only the tiniest air hole remained.

  SHE sensed Dylan’s stare on her as he held the door open for her once they were downstairs. Alice marched into the masculine, handsome den, chin up, defiant.

  Numb.

  It hadn’t changed much. Book-filled shelves lined three walls, and the fourth had a row of windows that looked out on the gardens and lake. The enormous carved desk—a good hiding spot—had been moved to a new position to the right of the room.

  You’ve never been in here before!

  Dizziness assailed her at the thought. Her legs forgot their purpose. She plopped down on a deep blue velvet couch before they could give out beneath her.

  “Alice?”

  It took a moment for her vision to resolve. There was a tall distinguished-looking man with silver hair looking down at her with concerned gray eyes. She stared up at him dazedly. Dylan entered her narrowing field of vision.

  “Things have changed,” she heard him say quietly to the other man. “She’s realized some of the things I’ve told her about the house don’t make sense, and it’s … upset her,” Dylan finished tensely.

  For a few seconds, she was looking into Dylan’s lustrous dark eyes and she was falling …

  Falling.

  What is wrong with me? I’m strong. I need to get out of here. This place is making me so weak. This house—this whole damn estate—is like my personal Kryptonite …

  Panic sent fingers tighter around her throat. “Dylan,” she managed.

  “It’s okay, Alice,” he said, and he grasped her hands. Had she stretched her arms out toward him, reaching like a little child? God, what was wrong? There was a strange ringing in her ears. “Everything’s going to be okay, baby.” He came down on the couch next to her and put his arm around her. Alice clutched at his free hand like a lifesaver.

  “Something’s wrong,” she whispered. Something is horribly wrong.

  “Sidney, do something,” Dylan rasped.

  The sunlight streaming through the windows seemed to be blinding her. All she could do was hold on to Dylan, her safety. Her anchor. Her …

  “Knight in shining armor,” she whispered through numb lips.

  “What’s that, Alice?” Someone was blocking the sunlight. “Here. Drink this.” The man with the gray eyes said. He was kneeling in front of her and handing her a glass. The man smiled kindly. “It’s all right. It’s just water,” he assured. “You’ve had a dizzy spell. Take a sip, and then take a few deep breaths.”

  She nodded. She wanted to take the water, but she was afraid to let go of Dylan for some reason. Then the edge of the glass was pressing against her lower lip, and she drank thirstily. It helped, the familiar sensation of the cool liquid slipping down her throat clearing her fog a little. The glass moved away. Dylan handed it to the gray-haired man, who stood and set the glass on the desk. Then he pulled an armchair in front of her.

  “Better?” he asked.

  Alice nodded.

  “I’m Sidney Gates. I’m a friend of Dylan’s,” he explained gently. “What was that you were saying about a knight in shining armor?”

  “Dylan,” she whispered. His arm tightened around her. The man named Sidney smiled.

  “Dylan is your knight in shining armor?”

  “Like the knight knocker,” she mumbled.

  Sidney glanced at Dylan, a question in his eyes.

  “The door knocker. On the front door. She used to like it.” Alice turned her chin and stared at Dylan in amazement. It was like he’d just taken form in front of her eyes, and she was seeing him for the first time. Different. Familiar.

  “I think I’m gonna be sick,” she said.

  Dylan nodded, his expression very grim. “Come on. I’ll take you to the bathroom.” He gently helped her to her feet. Alice swayed. Everything went foggy and then black.

  “Dylan,” the man said sharply.

  “I’ve got her,” Dylan said.

  She couldn’t see him anymore. But sure enough, Dylan’s arms were right there when she sank into them.

  WHEN she awoke, she again could hear Dylan, even if she couldn’t see him. It reassured her. She was lying on her back. She blinked her eyes open heavily, and saw she was still in the sunlit den. Not much time had passed, if the quality of the sunlight was any indication. She was stretched out on the velvet couch.

  “We should take her to a doctor,” Dylan was saying.

  “I’m a doctor.”

  “She should be in a hospital.”

  “She’s not physically ill, Dylan. She’s in shock. This is what shock looks like. It’s not as if a pill is going to make her fine. I’ll know better what to do when she wakes up. Don’t say anything until we see how much she remembers about the past hour or so. I need to determine how much she’s integrating.”

  She didn’t know what that man meant. It was like he was speaking English, but in a garbled, inexplicable manner that her brain couldn’t quite interpret. Alice blinked and saw the two men standing just feet away. She immediately recognized Dylan’s tall, formidable form. She recalled his casual clothing—jeans and a dark blue T-shirt from this morning. It’d been what he’d put on after they
showered.

  After they’d made love.

  Everything was muzzy, but the memory of their soulful, fiery lovemaking early this morning possessed a crystalline clarity. Other memories pressed at the edge of her consciousness. The pressure of them made nausea rise in her belly and her throat to tighten. She willfully pressed the intruding thoughts down.

  One thing, she definitely recalled all too well.

  Sidney knew your father.

  The memory of Dylan saying that with a rigid expression had been burned into her brain, surviving even the fog.

  “Dylan,” she croaked.

  Both men glanced around sharply.

  “I’m here,” he said gruffly, sitting on the edge of the couch, his hip pressing against her waist. He took her hand. “You okay? Do you want some more water?”

  She shook her head and swallowed. “No. I’m all right.” She started to get up.

  “Not yet,” Dylan said firmly, halting her with a hand on her shoulder.

  “It’s okay,” she said, meeting his stare. “I want to talk to this man. The one you said knows my father.”

  I want to get this over with.

  “Let her sit up, Dylan,” the man said. Dylan hesitated, but when she again tried to sit up, he didn’t stop her. “Nice and slow,” the man urged. Alice swung her legs to the floor and came to a sitting position next to Dylan.

  “That was so weird. I’ve never passed out before,” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes. She’d been afraid and filled with dread, because of what she suspected they’d say to her. It was time she faced the truth, no matter how ugly it was. The gray-haired man sat in the chair in front of the couch. She forced herself to focus on him, grasping for his name. “You said your name was Sidney Gates?”

  “Yes,” the man replied.

  She swallowed thickly. She felt very strange, like an exposed, quivering nerve, hypersensitive and numb at once. “Dylan said you knew my father?” she asked hollowly.

  Sidney nodded. She found his gray eyes comforting, soft and yet steely strong at once.

  Alice glanced up at Dylan. Her heart squeezed a little when she realized how pinched his expression was, how fierce his eyes. “You said you didn’t use a private investigator to find out who my father was, but you did, didn’t you?” she asked resignedly. Why had he done that? Why was he so intent on seeing her exposed and vulnerable?