Hargrove House: The Haunted Book One

by Allie Harrison

  Torrie laughed at the sound. “Not quite like a CD, is it?”

  “No, but we can still dance.” Without hesitation, he took her in his arms and twirled her around in a perfect waltz, careful not to bump her into any of the various items scattered about the room. Dust stirred around their feet as they moved.

  Torrie sneezed, and Will laughed but refused to stop dancing.

  Torrie was breathless. Lost in the echoing sound of the music, lost in his arms, she became lost to reality as time slipped away. She could have sworn the light changed and even the room changed as the dark of night appeared on the other side of the glass of the windows. She could have sworn they were no longer in the attic, but down in the ballroom where a hundred pairs of eyes watched them as they danced. And she could have sworn she wore the long green, elegant ball gown despite the fact she never tried it on. She even thought beneath the scratchy music she could hear the swish of the small train of her gown as she moved.

  The huge chandelier above her head sparkled and lit the room perfectly.

  The music now came from the live ensemble of musicians at the far end of the ball room and no longer sounded as if it was forced through a tin can.

  And Will twirled her around fast enough to make her dizzy and feel faint.

  It seemed as if time somehow stopped or sped up, Torrie never knew for sure.

  And yet, of all these things, she could never truly be certain. For caught in Will’s embrace as she was, she was also caught in his gaze as he smiled and danced with her. So everything she thought she saw was merely out of the corner of her eye.

  The music played on, and Will refused to stop or release her from the strange hold. The dizziness grew worse until black dots now floated before her eyes.

  Just when she thought she might faint, the music suddenly ended with the needle reaching the end of the record where the only sound then was a continuous thump…thump…thump…Will finally slowed to a stop.

  The dance left her breathless and exhausted and hardly able to stand as if they danced for hours instead of moments. But Torrie wasn’t certain whether it was from the dancing or from all the other things she thought she saw.

  “What happened? Did we go through some kind of time warp? I could have sworn we were down in the ballroom, and there were a hundred people around watching us dance.” She blinked away the spots and worked to swallow past the motion sickness that gripped her middle as she pressed her fingers to her temple. “I’m still dizzy.”

  Will just laughed. He no longer held her close, but he did still hold her hand as if he refused to let her go completely. “I knew you liked to dance.”

  “Yes, I guess I do. But I’ve never danced like that before, that was really something. I felt as if we were going in circles a hundred miles a minute. I think my head’s still spinning. And I know you said I’m with you as my boss, but time is really getting away from us and I do really have work to do downstairs. Besides, by the way the light is changing, it looks as though it might have started raining.” She took a few deep breaths as she worked to get her lungs under control again.

  “And you don’t want to be up here if it suddenly gets dark, right?” He turned and looked at her, his expression serious.

  “For certain,” she agreed.

  “Well, you’ll just have to come up here with me again when the house is done so we can explore more,” he insisted. He didn’t sound the least bit out of breath.

  “We’ll see,” Torrie replied. The last thing she wanted to think about was where she would be when the house was done. “I doubt that you’ll get me up those stairs a second time. Now where are these paintings you want me to see?”

  With his hand still in hers, he led her past the toys and trunks, an old rocking horse, several crates of old books and various other things to the far wall where several framed works of art stood waiting, covered with sheets. A few of them were nearly as tall as Torrie in their ornate frames.

  Will pulled the sheet from the first to reveal a portrait of four children, two boys that looked alike and about the same age, perhaps seven or eight, a young girl a few years older, and another girl a bit older.

  “Oh, my, they’re all so beautiful,” Torrie let out, studying the likeness closer. It was dusty and in the low light, the details were hard to see. But the beauty of such a masterpiece was easy to recognize. “The tallest girl looks a little like Eleanor. Even in this low light, I can see they all have beautiful blue eyes. The period clothing is magnificent. What year do you suppose this is?”

  “About the turn of the twentieth century, I’d guess, eighteen ninety-nine or nineteen hundred by the looks of the clothes,” Will said softly, staring at the portrait.

  “Look at the way the one little boy is holding that ball, and the curls of the second little girl look so perfect. It’s almost as if they could all suddenly come to life and walk right off the canvas.”

  “Yes, it is,” Will agreed seriously, as he continued to stare at the portrait.

  “I think this would look fabulous hanging over the large fireplace at the end of the ballroom.”

  He tore his gaze from the painting for the first time and looked deeply into Torrie’s eyes. “I think you’re right.” Then he carefully slid the painting aside and pulled the sheet aside to reveal the next one.

  It was a painting of the long, wide front porch of Hargrove House. There was wicker furniture, a large swing, the end of the house and the willow tree in the yard—a much smaller willow than what was there now.

  Torrie chuckled.

  “What?” Will asked.

  “Well, just like I thought the kids in the other painting could come to life and walk out of it, this one invites you to walk into it, sit down, swing for a while, and enjoy a glass of iced tea on a beautiful sunny day,” Torrie explained.

  Will smiled. “I love your imagination,” he muttered.

  “Do you want to hear something really funny?”

  “Yes.”

  “The first day I was here, before you opened the door and invited me in, I stopped coming up the front walk and studied the house and porch, and this is how I thought the porch should look. Pretty amazing, huh?”

  “No, I think you just have the experience and insight to see what is needed to make something complete.”

  Torrie smiled at his comment. “Yeah, maybe. Whatever it is, I do hope to get the porch up to looking exactly like this when the inside is finished.”

  “Then you and I can sit out there and swing and enjoy a glass of iced tea.”

  She smiled. “That sounds nice.”

  The third painting was another portrait, a lovely young woman sat in the gazebo in the grove of trees behind Hargrove House where Will and Eleanor had treated Torrie to lunch. Her elegant dress flowed around her. Complete with ruffles and a soft smile and a bouquet of roses on her lap, she was the true picture of a lady. For a long moment, all Torrie could do was stare. “Wow…”

  “She’s very beautiful, isn’t she?”

  Torrie nodded until she realized Will stared at the painting, too, and didn’t see her nod. “Yes, she is. I wonder who she is.”

  “The wife of the original owner of this house,” he replied without hesitation. “Mrs. Hargrove.”

  “You sound as if you know that for certain.”

  “I do.” He tore his gaze away to look at her. “I checked after I first discovered these were up here. In the historical archives at the library, I found a portrait of her. I want her to hang near the large doorway so that everyone who leaves the room sees her.”

  Torrie looked back to the painting. There was something hauntingly familiar about the woman, but Torrie couldn’t put her finger on what. It wasn’t the way the woman’s eyes followed you wherever you moved. And it wasn’t the fact she, too, looked as if she might suddenly stand up and walk off the canvas with the bouquet of flowers in her arms. No, it was more than those things. Perhaps after the painting was hung and was in better light, Torrie would see the a
nswer.

  “When you first told me there were paintings up here, I had considered bringing Rex Walker or some of his men up here to retrieve them. But now that you’ve brought me up here and I’ve seen them as well as all the other stuff up here, I don’t want anyone else up here.”

  Will turned to her.

  “This place really is like a secret hideout or something, and bringing workers or anyone up here would take away the secret. It would be an intrusion. I’m glad the stairs leading up here are so hidden and that no one who ever acted out on any dares made their way up here.”

  He reached out and lightly brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers. His tenderness caused her heart to skip. “I’m glad you feel that way. I felt that way, too. It’s why you are the first and only person I’ve brought up here.”

  “You’re about to make me cry.”

  “Oh, please don’t cry, I don’t think I could handle seeing your tears.”

  Torrie realized he was completely serious and didn’t know how to respond to that, so she just offered him a small smile and relished in the touch of his fingers still on her face. “I guess seeing me scared out of my wits at the dark was enough for one day,” she tried to lighten the mood.

  “Your tears would just tear my heart out, that’s all,” he replied seriously.

  Torrie had to swallow hard before she could speak again. “Do you think the two of us are going to be able to get these down those steps without destroying them or falling or having the steps collapse beneath us? We do have to go down in the dark, you know.”

  He looked back at the paintings. “I think we can manage. If we’re careful and if you can concentrate on me, my instructions and the job.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “Just be careful, the frame edges can be sharp.”

  The first two paintings—the two portraits, both had smooth wood, finished frames and Torrie and Will slid them easily across the dusty floor to the door leading down. Will used a heavy book to prop the door open. Looking down in the dark, Torrie hesitated.

  “Torrie? Look at me.”

  She did.

  “I’ll be right here the whole time, holding this end. We can do this.” Without further hesitation, he slid his end downward. “Keep your eyes on me. The door will stay open and allow down enough light for you to see me. Just follow my lead.”

  She did.

  Together, they slid the large painting down the stairs. The second followed. They rested both of them against the wall just inside the hidden room.

  The third painting of the porch had a large, carved silver frame with rough, uneven edges. It required they pick it up and carry it. It wasn’t exactly heavy, but it was bulky and when they lifted it, it was rather top heavy, causing it to want to sway as they moved. Torrie couldn’t help but yell out when she caught her elbow on a large wooden dresser when she tried to keep it from falling forward at one time.

  “Torrie?”

  “I’m all right. I just bumped my elbow.”

  “I could bring up just one man—”

  “No, I can do it,” she insisted. “Let’s go,” and she lifted her side again. At the door leading down the stairs, Torrie stopped.

  “Torrie?” he said again.

  “I was just thinking maybe I should go first and be on the bottom.” She wanted to look up at the light at the top of the stairs.

  “Why?”

  She licked her suddenly dry lips. “I just thought it might be easier since I wouldn’t have to look down.”

  “No, if this starts to slip, you won’t be able to stop it. Another minute or two and we’ll be done and we can open the door at the bottom and allow in the light from the ballroom. Look at me. Listen to my voice. You can do this.” Then without hesitation, he started down the stairs backwards.

  Torrie had no choice but to follow, doing her best to hold up her end. It wasn’t exactly hot in the closed room, but within a few seconds, Torrie felt perspiration slide down between her shoulder blades into the top of her skirt. Looking down the nearly ladder stairs sent her heart pounding. The fact that each steep stair creaked with their weight didn’t help. And because the frame was so bulky and sharp, they couldn’t move as quickly as they had with the two previous portraits. So Torrie had more time to think about each creak of the stairs and the sharp teeth of the dark at the bottom of the stairs.

  Halfway down the stairs, the middle of the step cracked beneath Torrie’s heel. It didn’t break completely in half, but it shifted enough to cause her to stumble. She fell forward at what felt like an alarming rate. At the same time, it seemed to happen in very slow motion even though she couldn’t stop it. The frame slipped from her grasp and the painting fell forward, the top edge rotating around toward Will’s head while Torrie staggered toward him. In her mind, she envisioned the jagged edges of the frame cutting into him and pinning him to the wall at the bottom of the stairs while she came falling on top of him and the painting, her weight finishing the job by forcing the frame to cut him in half.

  “Will!” She hardly had time to let out a cry of warning and terror before she thought the stairs would make contact with her chin. The floor just came up to meet her so damned fast. She closed her eyes; she simply didn’t want to see it happen.

  In the next instant, she was in Will’s arms, safe.

  And the huge framed painting was safely leaning up against the wall with the others.

  “What happened?” Her heart still pounded so painfully in her chest.

  “You fell. I caught you. I promised I would.”

  “The painting?”

  “It’s fine. I got it safely out of the way just in time.”

  “Yes, and you did it so fast, I didn’t even see you or it move.” She didn’t tell him she had her eyes closed.

  “I think you were busy watching the steps come up to meet your face. And thank goodness that never happened. You do, after all, have such a beautiful face. And nice smile. I’m glad you didn’t knock out any of your teeth… ” He still held her tightly to him. Then he kissed her. “Or bust your sweet lip.”

  He kissed her again—soft, tiny butterfly kisses on her lips, her cheeks, and her throat. “I feel your heart beating.”

  In one moment, her heart was racing with fear from nearly falling down the stairs.

  In the next moment, it was racing at the way he kissed her and held her close. “I think it’s galloping,” she corrected.

  Then Torrie felt the wall press up against her back, and he held both her hands in his above her head while he sandwiched her between his body and wall. He all but made love to her with his clothes on as he kissed her again and again, his tongue intimately getting to know her mouth, his lips exploring her face, her throat and behind her ears in the darkness of the small room.

  “No…” she let out breathlessly.

  “Yes…” He covered her mouth with his so it was a long moment before she could speak again.

  “No,” she forced out stronger. It was the hardest thing she’d ever had to say. She wanted nothing more than for him to continue, to really make love to him, but not here. Not in this dark, cramped, musty place. “Stop…”

  “Give me one good reason.” He kissed her tenderly between the words.

  “You’re my boss.”

  “You’re fired.”

  “Very funny.” There was nothing funny about what he did to her, how he made her body feel alive with tingles of something that felt like electric currents. Her knees were weak; her lungs were so tight she could hardly breathe. “It’s dark.”

  “Relax…” He expertly unbuttoned the top buttons of her blouse, revealing her soft flesh and the creamy lace of her bra. His kiss to her newly exposed skin caused her stomach to tighten with anticipation. “Let me love you.”

  She so wanted to say yes. And she couldn’t speak at all, she said nothing as she relished in his kisses.

  “All lace and softness,” he muttered.

  His hands on her breasts, his t
humbs massaging her nipples were nearly enough to make her want to jump out of her skin. His simple touch caused every inch of her flesh to tingle. The small room echoed with her soft moan. She nearly had to bite her tongue to stay quiet, knowing the work crew might be just on the other side of the wall.

  He left a trail of kisses down her neck to her breast and Torrie gasped. Instinctively, she arched against him.

  “I do love you so much, Victoria…”

  His kisses might be setting her soul on fire, but his words brought everything to a sudden, screeching halt despite the dark.

  “What? What did you say?”

  He tried to keep his lips on her, but Torrie closed her blouse and crossed her arms over her chest. “What did you say?” she repeated. “You don’t ever say those words unless you mean them.”

  She tried to hold his gaze, but there was so little light at the bottom of the stairs. He was nothing more than a shadow in an ocean of other shadows.

  “I do mean them,” he said slowly. “I would never have said had I not meant them.”

  “How could you mean them? You don’t even know me.”

  “I know more than you think I know.”

  “Like what?” she had to ask, staring at him through the shadows.

  “I know you love chocolate.”

  She chuckled. “What does that have anything to do with? Every woman I know loves chocolate. Chocolate is a staple, like the fifth food group or something. And loving chocolate has nothing to do with saying what you just said.”

  Even in the darkness, she saw his expression turn serious. “I know I’ve watched you for weeks. I know my own feelings. When I see or feel something important, I know enough to recognize it. I know everything I’m doing I want to share with you. Including my body.”

  He pressed himself against her. Even through their clothes, there was no mistaking the hardness she felt there. But, any man could get a hard on. Hell, some of them hardly needed to think about it to get one. It didn’t mean love was anywhere in the vicinity.

  Still, his words sent her heart thumping. Was she something important to him? Or was she just someone to watch while she worked in his house, someone to desire because she was close and available and convenient? She swallowed through a tight throat.