The full moon outside reflected off the ocean as the waves rolled onto the sleeping beach far below.
After repeatedly assuring the more than accommodating Margaret she could indeed handle her own unpacking, Lara set about that task.
Hanging up her last garment in the walk-in closet, she changed into a simple peach cotton shift. She placed her empty suitcase on the floor in the far back of the closet and her makeup case in the bathroom. She was now ready to truly begin her vacation.
Finding her way back down the wide hallway, she mentally followed the directions to the kitchen that Margaret had related to her. Lara thoughtfully studied her new surroundings.
The collections of artwork that lined the walls were excellent reproductions of famous works she had seen only in library books. The statues that graced beautiful pedestals were also good replicas of renowned works.
Passing additional bedrooms, Lara glanced into each of them, noticing the same flair for detail that was also given to her own room. Further down the hall, wide double doors appeared to beckon her investigation. Not totally sure of her directions, she turned the door handle of one of the doors, only to be disappointed to find it locked.
At just that moment Margaret turned the corner.
“I see you’ve freshened up. I’m sure you’re famished since airlines aren’t well known for their cuisine. Let me show you to the dining room. “
At the hesitant look in Lara’s eyes, Margaret cocked an eyebrow up in question. “Is there a problem?”
Not wanting to make an enemy of the friendly housekeeper, Lara hesitantly inquired, “Would it be all right if I ate in the kitchen? I don’t want my presence here to cause extra work.”
“Nonsense, it’s no trouble at all.” At her crestfallen face, Margaret added, “But, if you would like to keep me company, you’re more than welcome to eat in the kitchen.”
The rest of the evening passed swiftly as Lara talked with Margaret. The knowledge that the older and slightly broad woman was also alone had Lara feel closer to her.
“Now tell me why a pretty young woman such as you hasn’t remarried?” Margaret asked as she settled a napkin on her lap.
Smiling at the often asked bold question, Lara searched her mind for an honest answer. “I haven’t found the right man who will make me melt.”
Margaret eyed her companion thoughtfully. “You will one of these days, my girl, and I am sure he won’t be like any other.”
Shivering at the premonition, Lara rubbed her arms to dispel the mood that had descended upon the kitchen. Finishing her salad, Lara asked Margaret how long she had worked for Mr. Saint.
“Oh my, it’s going on ten years this Christmas. I was a very lucky woman to have met him.” Margaret’s face softened as she recalled the past.
“I had nowhere to go after my George died. You see, George had to go into the hospital. To pay the bills, I had to use our mortgage payments. Well, you can imagine how long you have until the bank takes the house away from you when you don’t pay what you owe.” A soft sigh accompanied her words. “My George never made it out of that hospital, and I had to find myself someplace else to live then. That’s when I met Mr. Saint.”
A smile brightened her clouded eyes. “That man sure is special. He gave me this job. To a woman he didn’t even know!” Margaret carried their dishes over to the sink. “He told me to consider this my home for as long as I wanted.”
“What do you know about him?” Lara rose to help her but was shooed quickly back to her seat.
Turning, Margaret gave Lara a surprised look. “I know he has the heart of an angel.”
Embarrassed by her seemingly rude question, Lara could only say, “He really sounds too good to be true.”
Asking Margaret to show her the way back to her room, they left the kitchen. On their way back down the hall, they passed the locked double doors. Lara gestured to them. “I noticed that these doors are locked. Is there any reason I should be made aware of?”
“Oh, Lord, no. That’s Mr. Saint’s suite. No one is allowed in there while he is in residence, that’s why the doors are locked.” Margaret continued down the hallway.
Lara stopped short and glanced back over her shoulder at the locked doors before she followed Margaret. “He’s here now?”
“Yes, he is,” Margaret answered with a wide smile, “although we hardly ever see him due to all of his business meetings and such. But he is indeed currently here on the island.”
Storing that little tidbit of information away, Lara entered her room and bade Margaret a goodnight then began to prepare for bed. Turning into the private bath, she flipped on the light switch. The brilliance shone off the gold fixtures as she began to fully take in her surroundings. It contained anything and everything a person could ever wish for from the glass-block enclosed shower, the sunken whirlpool bathtub, to the discreetly placed toilet and bidet.
Leaving the spacious bathroom, she headed toward the sliding glass doors that opened off of the bedroom’s sitting area and onto a large private patio with its own outdoor furniture. The tropical foliage that surrounded two sides of the patio gave a secluded effect that lulled Lara as she reclined on the padded lounge chair that faced the night-shrouded ocean.
****
Off to the far side of the patio, Lucien watched Lara with a yearning of a man long deprived of love. Quietly, he turned, retracing the path to his suite, leaving behind the one true thing he most wanted but could not have.
The rooms looked identical to the master suites of all his homes, with one entire wall of windows that had the special built-in window coverings. As he stood watching the night unfold, his need for a hospital was becoming urgent. This sickening need was something Lucien kept in firm control. And with Lara staying in his home, it would be up to him to keep her safe from Marissa and all of her blood-drinking companions.
This included him.
Concentrating on his destination, Lucien traced away, leaving the room empty.
****
The emergency room in London, England, overflowed with the victims of a bombing that had taken place at one of the popular local night spots. As he made his way among the moaning and bleeding people, Lucien could only shake his head in disgust at how cheap human life was valued. He left the busy admitting area in search of anyone needing his special kind of help.
A derisive laugh had Lucien turning back toward the door, only to find Marissa idly standing there.
“I thought I would find you here. You are such a bleeding heart.” She sauntered further into the room.
“What do you want?” Lucien barely kept the loathing from his voice.
Walking up to him, Marissa’s hand splayed across his chest. “Need I tell you, again? I want you. All of you, now and always.” She purred, her hand trailing down his chest, toward the zipper of his pants.
Ignoring her hand, Lucien walked away before responding, “Need I tell you again? Go to hell.”
A tinkling laughter accompanied her reply, “Darling, haven’t you noticed, we are in hell.” Marissa changed the subject. “I came to invite you to one of my little parties.”
Knowing what kind of horrors went on at her little parties, he was ready to decline until her next words brought him up short.
“I was checking on your little friend, but it seems she’s flown the coop.” Tapping a long red fingernail against her teeth, Marissa asked, “You wouldn’t, by any chance, know where she’s hiding herself now, would you?”
Anger warred with common sense as he considered her words. “Why would I know where some mortal was?” Hoping to waylay her deadly train of thought, he quickly asked, “When is your party?”
“Tomorrow at midnight, at the warehouse I own in Paris. I’ll be serving refreshments along with the entertainment. Don’t be late,” Marissa called out as she faded away.
Frustration and anger had Lucien grinding his teeth as he also left the sterile white room and the dead body.
****
Materializing at his California beach home, Lucien checked his surroundings for unexpected visitors. Relieved that Marissa hadn’t followed him, Lucien settled down at his large desk and began to read through his growing pile of correspondence. Thoughts of Lara kept intruding until he was forced to set aside the paperwork.
Concentrating on the guest bedroom in his home on Maui, Lucien found himself standing over Lara’s sleeping form. The light of the full moon shone through a window, highlighting her serene features. Desire surged through Lucien’s body until he thought it would bring him to his knees.
Moving away from the bed, he stood at the window looking out over the ocean as he fought for control of his baser instincts. Having fed his unnatural hunger earlier, Lucien didn’t fear for Lara’s safety around him. That, he definitely had under control.
A rustling of the bed covers had Lucien glancing back over his shoulder.
Lara bolted upright with a startled gasp and clutched the bunched up sheet tightly to her chest. “Who are you? What are you doing in my room?”
Admiring her spunk, Lucien strolled back to the bed and gave an abbreviated bow. “I am Lucien Saint. I had hoped we would meet under slightly better circumstances.” With a sweep of his hand, he indicated her in bed and gave her a rather wry smile.
Still clutching her sheet, she repeated. “What are you doing in my room?”
Searching his mind for a plausible answer and finding none, Lucien regretfully opted to just plain lie. He never tolerated people who lied; they were always found out in the end. He didn’t want Lara to ever distrust him or his word but judged this to be an exception to his rule.
“I was passing by your rooms and heard you cry out. When I came in to see what was wrong, you were fast asleep.” On a roll with his story, he thought to embellish it a little, which would allow him to spend more time with her. “To assure myself of your safety, I thought to check the locks on your windows to make sure they were indeed secure. I wouldn’t want anything to disturb your stay here.”
Since this was indeed his home, Lara decided she would give him the benefit of the doubt. Snatching up her robe from the foot of the bed, she slipped it on as she got up from the bed. Lara turned on the lamp next to an overstuffed chair, dispelling the shadows in the room.
Turning to face her nighttime visitor, she was brought up short. “It’s you...where...what? How...?”
A dark brow kicked up as Lucien stood there.
“You’re the man from the elevator, aren’t you?” Red hot embarrassment suffused her cheeks as she thought of what had transpired between them in that elevator.
A slow smile spread across his face, showing a flash of straight white teeth. “I didn’t think you would remember me.”
“How could I not? The nurses all thought I imagined you.” As Lara remembered that, she took up a militant stance, her fists planted on her hips. “Where did you go when the elevator doors opened up that night?”
Broad shoulders shrugging, he countered, “Where do you think I could have gone?”
This conversation was becoming far too confusing for her and her sleepy mind, so she decided to change the subject. Resolutely tying the belt of her faded pink terrycloth robe snug around her waist, she began to offer her condolences. “I was so sorry when Edna passed on.” Nervously, she toyed with the ends of the robe’s sash, searching for better words.
Lucien’s dark gaze followed Lara’s every move. When she first mentioned Edna, he had to search his memory until he recalled the elderly lady. “She is in a much better place now,” he softly assured her before suggesting, “Would you care to join me for a cup of coffee or perhaps some tea?”
Walking to the door, he looked at her over his shoulder, his hand resting on the door knob as he silently waited for her answer, praying it would be affirmative.
Totally awake now, Lara nodded and followed him from the room. Her eyes hungrily ate up the sight of his backside as he walked down the hallway, and the memory of their shared kiss came flooding back. She shook her lusty thoughts from her mind because she was sure her host wouldn’t appreciate them.
Having the large kitchen all to them, the pair sat at the glass-topped table and talked for hours. Answering his many questions about her life growing up as the only child in a close-knit family, Lara’s lips curved in a smile at the fond memories. She told him about her parents and their love for each other. She even confessed that she had always yearned for the same type of marriage her parents had been lucky to have.
She was still talking about her parents when Lucien abruptly rose from the table. “I have thoroughly enjoyed our conversation. I would like to continue it tonight, say at dinner?”
The same deep sense of familiarity settled into Lara again, as she looked up at his dark gaze. “I would enjoy that.”
“Fine, then I will see you at eight this evening.” Giving her another brief smile, he left her alone in the room.
Yawning, Lara stood and rinsed out their dirty cups and set them in the sink. Drying her hands, she then walked to the door, hoping to catch up with Lucien and accompany him back down the hall, but he was nowhere in sight; the hallway was empty.
Shrugging her shoulders, she padded down the same corridor to her own room. Snuggled back in bed, Lara’s mind conjured up Lucien’s image and a smile graced her lips as she drifted off to sleep.
****
The morning sunshine awakened Lara, beckoning to her as she watched the various colorful birds fly from tree to tree. After brushing her teeth and putting her hair up into a neat ponytail, she was ready for the new day. Slipping on her new swimsuit and its matching floral cover-up, she headed to the kitchen, wondering if she would be lucky enough to run into her handsome host, Mr. Lucien Saint.
Finding only Margaret busily working in the kitchen and preparing breakfast made Lara’s smile falter.
“Morning, Margaret,” she greeted, pouring herself a cup of coffee, after which she discreetly peeked into the dining room. No one was in there. Turning her focus back to the kitchen, she searched again for any sign of his presence. She finally asked, “Are you the only one up?”
“We’ve been up for at least a couple of hours.”
Still not the answer Lara was looking for, so she tried again. “Does that include Mr. Saint?” A blush warmed her cheeks.
A smile touched Margaret’s face. “Mr. Saint is always at meetings during the day. He isn’t expected back until dinner this evening. Poor man works so hard.” Margaret took an egg from an egg carton, her hand poised over a skillet. “Do you like your eggs scrambled or over easy?”
Trying to hide her obvious disappointment, Lara pulled her mind from the man who intrigued her. “I’m not very hungry. If you don’t mind, I’ll just have some fruit.” Grabbing an orange, she turned back to Margaret. “Is there a path down to the beach that I can use?”
Following the directions Margaret gave her, Lara found her way down the well-worn path to the private beach below. The clear blue water rushed at the shore and then, just as quickly, receded as she wandered along. Thoughts of the previous evening, as well as with the elevator episode, haunted her mind. Lucien Saint did indeed attract her as no other man had ever done before.
Not even Steven.
The image of Lucien’s broad shoulders, his muscles straining against his shirt as he had set about heating water for the tea, had her wanting to actually feel the ripple of those same muscles again, under her hands.
A shiver coursed through Lara’s body as she anticipated their date this evening. Already she was planning in her mind what she would wear. Discarding the notion of her new dress, she settled on a pair of cream colored linen trousers with a pale yellow silk blouse. Satisfied with her apparel choices for the evening ahead, she found a spot on the sandy shore and laid out the beach towel.
Stretching out beneath the warm sun’s rays, Lara closed her eyes and dreamt of the upcoming night.
Abruptly awakening some time later, Lara became aware of
the time and how little of it she had left to get ready for her dinner date with Lucien.
Hastily brushing off the granules of sand, she hurried to the house and her room. She entered the lush bathroom, turned on the water, and adjusted the temperature for a lukewarm bath since her skin was still a little pink from sunbathing. Removing her beach clothing, she sank into the over-sized tub and leaned her head back to let the water caress and lap over her body.
The windows above the tub opened onto the vibrant green vegetation to give the occupant the pleasant feeling of bathing in a private lagoon. Releasing her hair from the ponytail she had secured it in, she slipped under the water, thoroughly soaking the long tendrils. Surfacing, Lara rubbed shampoo into her hair, and then submerged again to rinse away the lather. With the bar of sweet smelling soap, she began the task of beautifying herself for her first real date since Steven.
****
Lying on his bed in the artificially lit room, Lucien watched the clock slowly tick away the minutes before he would see Lara again. Another thought regarding the coming night had him furrowing his dark brow as he remembered Marissa’s party. He would have to attend or run the risk of her searching for him until she ultimately located him; and with him, Lara.
Rising from his bed, Lucien double checked the time the sun would set, knowing he would also need to visit a hospital before meeting Lara. He had to ensure her safety from him and his sick instincts. He scanned the rest of the newspaper for world news and noted the areas that would need him the most.
On his far-reaching travels, he had learned to speak and read many languages, both in an endeavor to find the answers to his questions and to understand the suffering hospital patients’ heartfelt wishes and needs.
How he despised this nocturnal life.
Many times Lucien had contemplated suicide, but his own ingrained religious beliefs made the idea impossible, leaving only his many prayers for this existence to come to an end.
Closing his eyes, his body left his bedroom.
When he opened them, he was in an Israeli hospital emergency room. It appeared a suicide bomber had been on a bus full of the town’s citizens who were happily on their way to a nearby market. The moans and cries from inside the rooms were chilling. Lucien silently walked through the halls, in search of the one person who most needed his particular morbid skill.
The Wishing Stone Page 3
