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Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
512 Forest Lake Drive
Warner Robins, Georgia 31093
The Enchanted Inn
Copyright © 2007 by Pam Champagne
Cover by Anne Cain
ISBN: 1-59998-624-8
www.samhainpublishing.com
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: October 2007
The Enchanted Inn
Pam Champagne
Dedication
To my critique partners at RWW. Thanks for the many times you’ve gently nudged me back on the right path. You’re the best.
Chapter One
Ruth McPherson waved her hand several times until the level of light in the room suited her needs. “Shoo. Off the table, Solomon.” She tossed a handful of flour at the yellow feline. “Bad cat.” With a yowl of displeasure, Solomon jumped to the floor.
“Don’t give me that better than thou look,” she reprimanded. “I won’t have it.” With a flick of his tail, Solomon jumped onto the cushion of an old wooden rocker and curled into a ball.
“That’s more like it.” The elderly woman’s pudgy hands kneaded the dough with the expertise of a long time bread maker. Satisfied with the results, she folded it into a pan and set it on the back of the old wood cook stove to rise before moving to the window. She pulled back a white lacy curtain and gazed into the snowy darkness.
“Sure is a bad one, Solomon. I wouldn’t want to be out and about on a night like this. Who knows where you might end up spending the night?” She laughed with glee.
A blur of light flashed across the snow-covered lawn. “Well, what do you know? Our first guest has arrived.”
Solomon let out an ear-piercing yowl and burrowed his head under his paws.
* * *
Gina Locke loosened her death grip on the steering wheel and watched the windshield wipers slap in a useless attempt to keep up with the falling snow. Whiteout conditions with zero visibility.
One minute the weather had been clear, the next a blinding blizzard. She’d grown up in these mountains and couldn’t remember anything like this ever happening so quickly. Surely the road used to be much wider?
She’d made a wise decision to rent a four-wheel-drive rather than the less expensive small compact. The SUV barely crept along, and Gina prayed another car didn’t barrel down the road and hit her from behind. Where was she? She’d taken the usual exit off the interstate and should be on Route 109, but hadn’t seen a road sign in miles.
Her lungs worked like bellows as panic swelled and receded. She gulped deep breaths and hunted for a place to pull over. There had to be a turnout somewhere up ahead. Serves you right for waiting until the last minute to decide to show up for the Christmas family reunion. Only a fool decides to drive six hours on Christmas Eve.
Why hadn’t she left yesterday or the day before? Because you’ve become greedy and wanted that big hand lotion account. Yeah, so what’s wrong with that? The world of advertising was a cutthroat business. Being a woman made it doubly so. She’d wanted that new account and worked hard to land it.
Suddenly she caught a glimpse of soft yellow light shining through the falling snow. A house? Gina wanted to dance with relief. To hell with independence. She’d pull into the driveway, beg for help and hope it wasn’t the home of an ax murderer.
The first thing she saw as she steered into the driveway was an old sign hanging at an odd angle. The Enchanted Inn. Let us take you back to the past. Oh yes, she’d definitely taken a wrong road. She would have remembered a place as huge and ancient-looking as this. Could it be newly constructed by a contractor with the skill to make it look old? From what she could see through the swirling snow, the rambling inn looked like it had been around at least a century or two.
She’d planned to surprise her parents, so at least they wouldn’t worry if she didn’t arrive tonight. Hopefully, the storm would subside and she’d get an early start in the morning. Her homecoming would be like the Folgers commercial. She’d brew a pot and her parents would come downstairs to the smell of fresh coffee.
A wave of guilt lapped her conscience. She hadn’t been home in such a long time. She had three nieces and one nephew she’d never seen. Probably her parents and sister thought her an uncaring bitch. The truth was that seeing her sister and brother-in-law so much in love and always doting on their kids only reminded her of what she would never have.
Okay, no pity parties. Gina opened the car door and slid out. The wind buffeted the door and pulled her forward. She leaned inside to snatch her overnight bag off the seat.
Head down, she battled the wind and snow. And somehow made it to the front door. She’d barely raised her hand to knock, and the door creaked open.
“Come in, my dear. Oh, isn’t the weather frightful?”
Gina peered into a smiling cherub’s face. The woman wore a white apron over a drab gray dress, her hair pulled into a neat bun. Gina could have sworn the apron was starched. Who in the world still starched and ironed aprons these days? “Hello,” she began, standing on the threshold as the snow sifted off her cape. “I’m hoping you have a vacancy for the night.”
“Of course. Come in before you freeze.” The woman hustled her inside, and the door closed with a resounding bang. “Being Christmas Eve, not too many people want to stay out here in the middle of nowhere.”
Gina held out her hand. “Gina Locke. I was on my way to Woodstock and must have taken a wrong turn. I don’t remember—”
“So easy to do in this weather, Gina. You don’t mind if I call you Gina?”
“Of course not.” Gina brushed at the snow still covering her wool cape. “I’m dripping all over your beautiful rug.”
“Don’t worry about that, dear. Give me your wrap and I’ll hang it to dry.”
Her spirits warming from the woman’s kindness, she shrugged out of her cape and removed her shoes. No sense damaging the gorgeous Oriental covering the wide pine planks in the room.
“I’m Ruth McPherson, by the way,” the woman said over her shoulder as she walked across the room to the closet.
“Are there other guests here, Ms. McPherson?”
“Call me Ruth. I run a cozy informal inn.” She shut the closet door and turned around. “There’s one other gentleman here tonight. He was on his way to a ski resort—to spend Christmas alone, if you can imagine.” With her pudgy hand, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Oh dear, I’ve forgotten. You don’t mind sharing a bathroom, do you?”
“Of course not.” Sharing a bathroom was the least of her worries right now. “Do you have a phone I can use, Mrs.—Ruth?”
“I’m afraid we lost phone service about an hour ago. I’m keeping my fingers crossed we don’t lose power, too.”
That makes two of us.
“Were you on your way home for Christmas, Gina?”
“Actually, yes. I haven’t been home for seven years, so this year I decided to surprise my parents.”
The older woman’s eyes widened. “Seven years? My lord, that’s a long time not to see your family. Whatever happened to keep you away all that time?”
&
nbsp; “I found my fiancé in bed with another woman a week before our wedding.” Gina clamped her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what made me say that.” What was happening? Never in her life had she told a total stranger such intimate details.
Ruth’s hazel eyes gleamed in the dim light. “Why are you sorry, dear? Is it not the truth?”
Gina felt foolish. “Well, yes, but—”
“Never mind, then. Follow me. I’ll show you to your room.”
Preoccupied with her slip of the tongue, Gina followed Ruth up the steep flight of stairs. Another Oriental rug of equal beauty and worth ran the length of the hallway on the second floor. Light inside the sconces on the wall flickered like flames. She’d never seen electric reproductions of old gas lanterns look so real. A mysterious ambiance shrouded the entire inn.
Gina shook off the creepy feelings.
“Here we are, dear.” Ruth stopped to open the door with an old skeleton key hanging around her neck. Did the same key open every door? Why bother locking them? Gina brushed past Ruth to enter one of the loveliest rooms she’d ever seen. The antique furnishings must have cost a fortune. Everything appeared to be in new condition. A huge, canopied four-poster bed dominated the room. A claw-leg table sat on one side of the bed. Gina dropped her bag on the floor and ran her hand over the white silk quilt covering the bed.
Ruth stood by the door, watching Gina intently. “Is the room to your liking?”
“It’s gorgeous. Where did you find antiques in such wonderful condition?”
Ruth brushed off the question with a wave of her hand. “Oh, here and there.”
Gina frowned. How odd. Most inn owners would be frothing at the bit to tell a guest about their place.
“Have a rest, dear. I’ll see you at dinner.” Ruth pointed to a door on the far side of the room. “The bathroom is through there. I do believe I hear the shower running.”
Gina flopped on the bed, sinking into the softness of a feather mattress. “No problem, I can wait.”
Ruth walked away and said over her shoulder, “I’m sure he won’t be long. Come downstairs whenever you’re ready.” With a smile, she stepped into the hallway and shut the door.
Gina surrendered to the lethargy sapping her strength.
* * *
“Gina, come back. Please.” Luke pushed away the woman in his arms, jumped off the bed—and tripped over the sheet he grabbed to cover his naked body.
Gina turned for one last look at the man she’d given her heart to. “How could you do this to me? To us?”
“Nothing happened here. I swear,” he’d protested.
If not for the woman in the bed wearing a smug smile and little else, Gina might have believed him. Luke had never lied to her. Without another word, she fled through the open door.
Luke! Gina bolted upright and gulped air to slow her ragged breathing. Her skin, clammy with sweat, grew cold. She climbed out of bed and walked to the window on wobbly legs. Curling her fingers around the sill, she leaned her forehead on the cool snow-splattered pane. Outside, the wind howled in anger. The entire house creaked in protest as if it knew of her dream and felt as betrayed as she had seven years ago.
She hadn’t dreamed about Luke for years. Why now? Perhaps it had been a bad idea to come home. She’d hoped that after all this time Luke’s betrayal would no longer have the power to hurt her. So much for hope.
Her hands shook as she rummaged through her leather overnight bag. She pulled out a change of underwear and searched for a clean pair of jeans. Her fingers touched the soft fabric of the little black dress she always packed on trips. Crease and wrinkle free. Why not wear it tonight? She needed the boost. Some pantyhose and a pair of black heels completed the outfit.
When a quick knock on the bathroom door raised no response, Gina slipped into the steamy room and stripped off her jeans and tee-shirt. She stepped into the tub. Like everything else in the inn, the antique claw-foot tub looked brand new. She closed the shower curtain and turned on the faucet, almost groaning in relief as the hot water cascaded over her tense muscles. The lethargy she’d felt earlier lifted.
She’d dress and enjoy a nice Christmas Eve meal with Ruth and the other guest. After a good night’s sleep, she’d be on the road at dawn and home before her parents were even out of bed.
Gina stretched, lathering her skin with lilac-scented soap. Not only did it soothe her tired muscles, its scent filled the air and helped her relax. It brought to mind spring in New England, specifically her parents’ backyard—where she and Luke were to have been married. They’d picked Memorial Day for their wedding because the lilacs would be in full bloom.
The dredged up memories ruined her enjoyment. She shut off the water and grabbed a thick towel and wrapped it around her body sarong style. When she wiped the steam from the oval mirror on the wall, she got a shock. Whoa! Who was that haggard woman staring back at her? Pale cheeks complete with dark circles under the eyes. Pride demanded she make an attempt to improve her appearance.
She padded back into her room to get her makeup bag and returned to the bathroom. Totally into applying mascara, she managed only a squeak of protest when the door to the other guestroom opened. She whirled and almost dropped to floor.
“Luke,” she gasped. The man she’d once wanted to spend her life with, the one who’d betrayed her a week before their wedding stood in the bathroom, looking just as stunned as she felt. He was naked to the waist and Gina couldn’t force her gaze away from the washboard muscles rippling down his abdomen. Luke was the guest in the other room? How was this possible?
Chapter Two
Luke’s gaze moved over her slim, towel-covered body. What the hell? Gina? Right in front of him, within touching distance, stood a shell of the woman who’d haunted his dreams for the past seven years. The one who refused to get out of his mind no matter what he did to chase her away.
“What’s happened to you?” The moment the words rolled off his tongue, he wished he could take them back. Way to go, Harding. You’ll score some great points with that one. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Didn’t mean to barge in. You should have locked the door.”
His gaze rested on her trembling fingers as they clutched the towel.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered.
Luke smiled. “Here meaning at the inn or here in the bathroom? I came in to wash my hands—”
Gina shook her head. Luke clenched his hands to keep from reaching out to stroke the heavy silkiness of auburn curls falling out of her barrette.
“Not here in the bathroom…why are you here…at the inn?”
He’d asked himself that same question. “The storm came out of nowhere. Driving got so bad I stopped at the first place I came to. How about you?”
“Same thing. I was on my way home.”
“Home.” He tasted the word on his tongue. A word with so much meaning, but meaningless when you didn’t have one. “I was headed to a resort to do some skiing.”
He noticed she’d relaxed somewhat. “At Christmas?”
“I don’t celebrate Christmas. Brings back too many memories. Remember the fun we used to have? I especially remember—”
When he broke off, she blushed and her gaze dropped to the floor. “No. I try not to remember. It’s too costly.”
He’d give anything to erase the pain from her eyes. “Well, I’ll leave the bathroom to you. Guess I’ll see you at dinner.” He backed out of the room and shut the door, then leaned against it to release a pent-up breath. This situation was way too spooky. Gina had been on his mind for weeks. She’d floated through his dreams almost every night.
She ran away from your love. His inner voice was right on target. Gina had jumped to conclusions and bolted without waiting to hear his side of the story. But could he blame her? She’d found him in a damning position. Yet, what kind of man did she think she was marrying? What kind of marriage would they have had without trust?
He’d accepted that he’d lost her.
Seven years later he still longed for what they’d once had together. Pushing away from the door, he paced the room. His few attempts to see her over the years had failed. Once he’d actually gotten her on the phone. She’d been cool and distant. No, she wasn’t interested in getting together to talk over a cup of coffee. Two other times, he’d left messages on her answering machine. She’d never called back.
And now, Gina was here. Right next door. If he played his cards right, he had the entire night to try to convince her to give their love a second chance.
A tentative knock on the door halted his racing thoughts. He grabbed a shirt and strode across the room, fumbling with the buttons. He opened the door and disappointment slapped him the face. Ruth McPherson stood there, her lips curved in a smile. “Dinner is almost ready. Won’t you come down and join me in a glass of wine?”
Luke shook off his gloom, determined to take advantage of this chance meeting. He’d make fate work in his favor. He smiled at his hostess. “Certainly. It’d be my pleasure.”
He followed Ruth down the stairs into the living room. There was a tray holding a bottle of wine and three glasses on the coffee table. He settled on the brocade couch. “Do you get many guests here, Mrs. McPherson?” God, he hated mundane conversations.
“Oh, call me Ruth. Everyone does.” She poured a deep burgundy wine into his glass before lowering herself into a chair.
Luke took a sip. Too sweet. His tastes ran more to a dry tart wine.
“Elderberry,” Ruth said, a twinkle in her eye. God, had he made a face when he drank it? “I made it myself.”
“Very nice,” Luke lied and glanced toward the stairs for the fifth time. Where the hell was Gina? There were three place settings on the table, so she must be coming down.
“Have you met the young lady in the room next to you?”
Luke forced his attention back to his hostess. “Actually Gina and I go way back. We knew each other years ago.”
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