After the Midnight Hour

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After the Midnight Hour Page 12

by Linda Randall Wisdom


  “So when are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?”

  He paused. “When I’ve got it figured out for myself.” He picked up the bottle and drained it dry. He pushed it across the bar toward her.

  She arched an eyebrow but didn’t remind him he’d already reached his personal limit. In the twinkling of an eye, the empty bottle was gone and a new one stood in front of him.

  “When we hid out at the ranch I never thought I’d end up living there,” he said. “I didn’t even know it belonged to my mother. When you think about it, it’s surprising my old man didn’t find a way to get hold of it before she left him. Who knows, maybe she never told him about it.” He thought of the woman who’d abandoned him so easily. Though she’d left him behind, she’d still left him a legacy. He wished he’d known exactly why she left. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to leave him behind. God knows he’d hoped that enough times. She could have tried to get him later on. But she never did.

  “Yeah, who knew you’d turn out to be a land baron?” Lea teased. “It’s probably a good thing we didn’t know it then. We could have moved in permanently and turned it into a happy place. Our very own refuge.”

  He picked up on her choice of words. “A happy place?”

  She nodded. “Sure, it needed to feel happy. Didn’t you ever feel the sadness in there?”

  “I would have called it anger and despair that was coming from us, not the house,” he said carefully.

  Lea shook her head. “Maybe, but I think part of it was the house, too. We were young. True, anger and despair were the only emotions we knew back then,” she said. “But maybe if we’d lived there, we would have lost all that anger and the house would have lost it, too. Instead, we grew up and went on with our lives. Still, I think we turned out pretty good.”

  “But why did you say the house felt sad?” he asked.

  “Because that’s what I felt anytime we were there. It was as if there was something there that understood what we felt.” She looked off into the distance as she spoke. “Who knows, maybe that’s why you and I went out there. The house understood us.”

  He shifted uncomfortably, all too aware how close she was to the truth. “That sounds like something out of a horror movie. All we’d need is a crazed killer stalking us to make it complete.”

  Lea grinned. “We had the ghost instead. Remember how the kids always expected Caleb’s ghost to appear and slaughter them? You and I never worried about that.”

  “Yeah, we didn’t,” he reflected.

  “Maybe you could rent the house out to a movie crew. Caleb’s legend would be perfect horror movie material.”

  He made a face. “I’d rather change the image. Make it that happy place you talked about.”

  Lea chuckled. “Next thing I know you’ll be planting flowers and putting up a white picket fence.” She nodded when someone called her name. “Don’t become too domestic, sweetheart. I love you just the way you are.” She patted his hand before moving down the bar to a customer.

  Jared divided his time between coming to terms with the possibility that two ghosts haunted his house and covertly watching the man he was positive had helped beat him up.

  Jared left the bar not long before closing. He noticed the blond man remained by the pool table and left only about ten minutes before he did.

  “Maybe you’d better bunk on my couch tonight,” Lea said, when Jared announced he was leaving. A worried frown creased her forehead.

  He shook his head. “I’m fine. I don’t even feel a buzz. Besides, I have to get back to the house and make sure everything’s still in one piece.”

  Jared found the chilly late-night air on his face better than strong coffee as he rode toward his ranch. But he wasn’t so preoccupied that he didn’t notice the faint rumble of another motorcycle engine sounding from not too far behind him, and no hint of a headlight. He slowed down and waited for the other rider to approach. Not that he expected it to happen. If someone on the road had his headlights off, it usually meant the rider didn’t want to be detected.

  Jared could tell the other rider was pacing him, deliberately speeding up when he did, slowing down the same way.

  He swore under his breath at the idea he’d encounter someone he didn’t want to. He was glad he had his Glock snug against his back. He hadn’t told Lea he was armed when he was in the bar because she would want him to adhere to her iron-clad rules. But he wasn’t about to end up someone’s punching bag again.

  He cut his headlight when he turned off onto the road leading to the house then cut the engine. He heard the roar of the other bike slowly fade away, as it took off in another direction.

  “Good thing you changed your mind about stopping by for a visit. I’m not ready to entertain yet.” Jared started up and rode the rest of the way up the drive.

  Rachel hadn’t moved from her chair while Jared was gone. It had been a long time since she’d felt such a crushing silence in the house, which had recently begun to show renewed life. But these past hours were a repeat of the overwhelming quiet she had grown to hate.

  She listened to the sounds of Harley barking a welcome to his master and Jared putting his motorcycle away in the barn.

  Her breathing caught in her throat as she heard the now familiar thump of his boots on the back steps as he climbed them toward the kitchen door.

  “You been guarding the house, boy?” he was saying as he entered the house. “I guess there’s not much for you to chase around here at night, is there?”

  Her stomach tightened until it almost hurt. Even though there was no light in the room she could see him as clearly as if it were the middle of the day. His stride wasn’t the least bit hampered, yet she sensed he had been drinking. She knew that just as she’d known every time Caleb had gone into town to visit the Golden Slipper, where he would proceed to get drunk and come home reeking of whiskey and women’s cheap perfume. Then he would loudly proclaim she’d lied to him. He would accuse her of not being the lady he’d been brought to believe she was. And to make matters worse, she couldn’t provide him with the heir he wanted. In his eyes, she was useless.

  Was that what Jared would say to her? Would he tell her she was useless, the way Caleb had as he’d continually stabbed her? She’d welcomed her death.

  Her breath hitched in her chest as a familiar tall figure loomed dark and dangerous in the lit kitchen doorway.

  “Hi, honey. I’m home,” Jared announced in a loud voice.

  Chapter 7

  Rachel’s gaze was wary, her posture that of a trapped rabbit looking for a way to flee as she watched Jared enter the room.

  He kept his catlike eyes focused squarely on her, walking over until he stood in front of her.

  “Don’t tell me you just sat in that chair the whole time I was gone?” He held his watch up to his face. “I’ve been gone a good four hours, Rachel. What was the problem? It’s not as if Harley takes up the entire couch. Nobody expected you to stay there until I came home.” His cocky smile wavered as he stared down at her face, which looked paler than usual.

  “It was best I stay put.” She recited words once said to her.

  “So you’re saying Caleb used to order you to sit in some damn chair until he returned?” Jared demanded.

  She winced at his profanity, even as she recalled much worse from Caleb. “I try not to talk about that time of my life,” she murmured.

  “No, you just talk about turning into a damn ghost that can only be seen at night.” He reached down to grasp her hands and tug her to her feet.

  She tried to pull away, but he kept a firm grip on her hands. Her head remained downcast.

  “Look at me, Rachel,” he ordered.

  Her hair, tied in its loose braid, swung over one shoulder, leaving her nape bare.

  Jared looked down at the vulnerable strip of flesh. Skin that looked like soft pink silk, that never saw the light of day. He felt her tension under his fingertips and knew he was the cause of it. But he knew if he backe
d down now he would never learn the truth about her past.

  “Look at me,” he repeated gently.

  She glanced upward. Only the slight trembling of her lower lip betrayed her inner turmoil as she stared back with eyes resembling dark purple pansies. Her cheeks betrayed a faint pink flush.

  Could ghosts blush? Or cry?

  “Why were you still sitting in that chair when I got back?” he asked in a low voice.

  “It is a very comfortable chair,” she murmured.

  “Liar.” He was pleased to see a blaze of temper darken her eyes even more. So she wasn’t all meek and mild, after all. “Did you honestly think I wanted you to sit there the whole time I was gone? Is that what he wanted you to do? Did he want you playing the part of the obedient little puppy, eager to do her master’s bidding?”

  “I have told you before that I do not think about that time.” She vainly tried to free herself again. But he slid his hands to her wrists, which he circled with his fingers. This time when she moved backward, he dropped his hands.

  “I am sure you are tired after your evening out,” Rachel said, walking toward the stairs. She barely reached the bottom step before Jared moved toward her and grasped her elbow, spinning her around to face him. This time when she tried to shift away from him, she ended up against the wall, essentially trapping herself.

  He stood so close to her the toes of his boots brushed the hem of her dress. He dipped his head and breathed deeply. “You always smell like jasmine,” he murmured.

  Her eyes glistened with tears. “Do not toy with me like this, Jared,” she whispered, even as she hated herself for showing any form of weakness toward him. “Please.” She hated herself even more for pleading with him and for feeling a strong attraction toward him.

  He dipped his head to whisper in her ear. His voice was a silken growl that made her nerve endings quiver with an awareness she didn’t understand. “But I do want to toy with you, Rachel.” He laced his fingers through hers and rested them by her sides against the wall. “In fact, there’s a lot of things I’d like to do with you.” His lips rested warmly against the curve of her ear. “Would you like to hear them?”

  Rachel could smell the beer on his breath and the harsh tang of smoke that clung to his clothing, but she couldn’t detect any hint of perfume. She was surprised he hadn’t been with a woman. Not that she had any hold on him. She suddenly recalled the cigars Caleb used to smoke. Ugly smelly things that he thought made him look successful. She’d gagged every time he smoked them.

  He had always wanted her after he had been gone most of the night and came back drunk and sometimes belligerent. She’d only felt revulsion.

  The man standing before her wasn’t drunk. She didn’t sense a need within him to instill fear in her because it made him feel powerful. She felt a darkness in Jared Stryker’s soul, but she knew it wasn’t the same pitch-black void that had enveloped Caleb. Jared’s darkness reached out and wrapped around her, calling to her with a different kind of need.

  His words called to a part of her that was tightly curled and was now reacting to the strange sensation uncoiling within her soul. This was something she’d never experienced before. She looked up into his face and even in the dim light could see the answering call in his golden-brown eyes, reminding her of a cat stalking its prey. The fear she’d felt earlier was now gone.

  His body stilled as that same sense of heightened awareness that enveloped Rachel sank into him.

  “Let’s say you’re what you say you are. That means all those nights long ago you were here, weren’t you?” Jared whispered in her ear, his breath warm against her skin. “At night you must have stayed upstairs in hiding so no one could find you. But you still heard things.”

  “Yes.” Her reply was a wisp of sound.

  “And saw things.” His lips skimmed along the delicate curve of her neck where it met her shoulder.

  Her throat worked convulsively as she fought to find the words to answer him. She knew exactly what he was talking about. He meant what she might have seen and heard the nights he was there with a young woman who was about his own age and seemed to be as damaged as he had been. Rachel kept her gaze on his face as the word finally surfaced with a hint of defiance. “Yes.”

  His soft devilish laughter seemed to start from deep within him. “Well then, good thing I didn’t know I had an audience back in my teen years. There were nights when I had enough performance anxiety as it was.”

  She shook her head, silently telling him that was something she hadn’t seen. She believed some things deserved as much privacy as she could give them.

  “But you knew what went on here.” His words whispered across her skin. “Didn’t you? Weren’t you ever tempted to creep down the stairs and get a better look? Weren’t you ever curious?”

  Rachel’s eyelids fluttered as Jared’s mouth continued to skim along her throat.

  “No.” She whispered the lie. She had been curious, but feared discovery even more.

  “I never knew a ghost could smell or taste so good,” he murmured.

  Her breathing became labored, as if something surrounded her chest and gently squeezed. “Jared.” The only word she could manage to form was his name. She had expected him to display anger. She had expected anything but a gentleness that unnerved her more than any display of violence could. She should have known Jared didn’t follow anyone’s rules but his own.

  “You are a lady with a capital L,” he murmured, in a soft voice that did strange things to her nerve endings. “What is it they called you back then? A Southern gentlewoman?” He went on without waiting for a reply. “You talk to me with that sexy little drawl and you look at me with those gorgeous eyes, but it’s the way you watch me that I love. Do you know how much I like it? Do you know what it does to me?” Her face flamed with brilliant color as he whispered graphic suggestions in her ear. The hardness of his body against hers was further proof of his words.

  Rachel’s mind raced with possibilities as mental pictures backed up the murmured words. She wanted to tell him he shouldn’t say such things to her. She wanted to tell him that things like that just weren’t done…were they?

  But Jared had other plans for her mouth.

  When his lips moved to cover hers, she felt her supposedly nonexistent breath leave her body. He probed her mouth with the skill of a man who knew his women well. She felt a melting sensation deep inside as his tongue invaded her mouth the way she wanted him to invade her body. But there was no fear, no revulsion at his action as there had been with Caleb. There was a sense of wonder at the swirls of desire that circled within her. She felt his hands loosen their grip and slide around her body, pulling her against him. Her own arms slowly moved upward to clasp his neck.

  Rachel didn’t understand the feelings that were blossoming in her. For the moment, she chose not to try to figure them out, but to just enjoy what was happening. Now she felt no hint of Jared’s dark side as he seduced her mouth with the same finesse she knew he would use on a woman’s body. She’d never experienced something so heady. She felt his arousal against her belly and felt herself swell and soften in response. How could something so very wrong feel so very good?

  And why did she have to be dead before she could discover true passion?

  “Damn,” he groaned against her mouth. “Why you?”

  “They all lied about you! You are useless as a woman! The biggest mistake I made was marrying someone who couldn’t be a real wife. You’re worth even less than one of my dogs! You can’t even give me a child! I could have you killed and no one would care!”

  A strangled sob escaped her lips as she tore herself out of Jared’s arms and backed up the stairs.

  “Rachel?” Jared held out a hand as if to stop her, but she flinched. He winced at her reaction and didn’t move another step. “I’m sorry.” His stance abruptly changed from seducer to comforter. “I won’t hurt you.”

  She kept shaking her head in denial as she slowly backed up th
e stairs. She didn’t want to tell him that he’d already hurt her. One lone tear made its way down her cheek. That hurt Jared more than any physical action could.

  Rachel suddenly whirled around and seemed to literally fly up the stairs. A moment later, Jared heard the door to her room close.

  “Damn,” he growled, pushing his fingers through his hair. He breathed deeply through his nose in an attempt to ignore his arousal, which pushed painfully against his jeans.

  When was the last time just kissing a woman had him this hard this fast? He wanted nothing more than to follow Rachel up those stairs and find out what was under that prim dress she wore. He wanted to banish all the shadows from her eyes. He wanted to lay all her past fears to rest.

  She’s a ghost, you idiot! What if there’s nothing under that dress? How can someone dead all these years actually feel anything? How do you know what goes on inside her head?

  And what if she’d run upstairs because what frightened her was him? Jared had figured out enough, and read even more, to know that ole Caleb hadn’t treated her kindly.

  A soft whine brought him back to the present. Harley sat back on his haunches near Jared’s knee and lifted a paw in canine inquiry.

  “Go on up to her, boy,” he said wearily. “Right now, I don’t think I’d be all that welcome.”

  The young dog immediately loped up the stairs. Jared heard a faint scratching sound against a door, then it opened. The click of Harley’s nails on the wood floor was audible as he entered the bedroom, and then the door quietly closed.

  Jared moved over to the couch and flopped onto it. The names he silently called himself would have shocked Rachel. He considered them nothing more than the truth.

  He was surprised she didn’t just walk out of the house. Then it hit him why she hadn’t done that.

  If I try to walk out the door it is as if an invisible wall pushes me back. I cannot leave the house.

  What if she’d been speaking the truth all along and she was a ghost? What if she was well and truly stuck here?

 

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