“Wait.” Reece covered her hand with his, sandwiching her palm between the gearshift and his warm, callused skin. A small charge shot up her arm, and she struggled not to yank her hand back.
“Shift first.” He pushed her hand into gear. “Give it some gas, then let off the clutch slowly, and when you feel the catch…There, feel it? Let out the clutch.”
Nodding, she did as instructed. The car rolled forward, and she turned out of the parking lot onto the road.
“Thanks.” The word stuck on her tongue.
He shrugged, attention fixed on the passing scenery through the glass. “I hoped to make it back to the house before morning.”
Zinged again. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel and focused on the road, determined to ignore him.
He shifted in his seat and dug an orange plastic pill vial from his pocket. After popping the lid, he shook two capsules into his hand and tossed them back, dry swallowing them.
“What were those?” The way her day was going, he was probably some pill-popping drug addict.
“Migraine,” he muttered, without looking at her as he slipped the bottle back into his pocket. The prescription label had been peeled off the vial, so what he’d taken was anyone’s guess.
How had she let herself get talked into this? She released a slow breath and focused on the road before her.
Fat snowflakes mingled with sleet pellets swept through the beams of her headlights like a moving wall. The clunk and swoosh of the windshield wipers the only noise in the otherwise silent car.
“Is the house far from here?”
“About fifteen minutes.”
Her stomach knotted. Fifteen minutes and she’d be meeting a family she hadn’t even known existed a week ago. She nipped at her bottom lip. A thousand questions churned inside her head. Why had her sister and father waited so long to contact her? Why had her grandparents lied to her all her life? And what had her mother been so afraid of in her letters?
She glanced at Reece again. His attention remained focused on the fields and trees through the window—little more than dark silhouettes against the rapidly darkening sky. Absently, he pushed his shaggy hair away from his face, exposing his profile. Despite the dangerous edge to his appearance, his features were interesting, attractive. High, broad forehead, straight nose, sharp ridge of cheekbone beneath chilly sea-blue eyes. Though right then his gaze didn’t look nearly as cold as it did in the pub. Instead, he appeared far away, lost in thought.
He didn’t look like any groundskeeper she knew—though, to be fair, she didn’t know any besides him. Still, weren’t groundskeepers old with wild hair, gnarled hands and weather-wrinkled skin?
As if sensing her stare, Reece sighed. “What?”
She turned back to the road. “How old are you?”
He frowned and finally glanced her way. “Why?”
“You don’t look like a groundskeeper.”
“I don’t?” He smirked.
“No. What did you do before you worked here?”
“Lots of things.” He tilted his head to one side and jutted out his chin. “What do you do?”
Evasion, surprise, surprise. “I’m an accountant at a holdings company.”
He snorted. “Figures.”
She probably didn’t want him to explain what he meant by that. “You never answered my questions.”
He pressed his lips together, but the corners of his mouth lifted as though he was struggling not to smile. “Maybe because you ask so bloody many.”
“I asked you two.”
He sighed loudly. “Fine. I’m thirty-one.”
“And what did you do before becoming a groundskeeper?”
He didn’t speak for a long moment. Brynn glanced away from the road to look at him. All traces of humor gone, his expression had turned dark. “You don’t want to know.”
“Oookay.” She turned her attention back to the rain-smeared windshield, silence settling between them once more. As the turn drew near, she let up off the gas and flipped the signal.
“That’s the wrong road.” The low tenor of Reece’s voice cut through the quiet. “You want the next one.”
“But the directions say…” She didn’t bother even attempting to pronounce the name. With twelve letters, six of them vowels, she’d butcher it for sure.
“The directions say Choedwig Basio, that’s Choedwig Ochra.” The Welsh words sounded lyrical and pleasant despite his harsh tone. “Had you taken the time to read the words, you might have found your way on your own.”
And not wound up trapped in a car with him. The man had a point.
“Tell me something,” she said. “Is it me specifically, or are you this pleasant with everyone?”
Ignoring her question, he nodded at the stone wall running alongside the road. “The gate posts are just ahead.”
She slowed the car and steered between two stone pillars on either side of a narrow dirt driveway. A tangle of leafless trees closed in around the car, skeletal branches scraping the sides and roof like bony fingers. The dull screech set her teeth on edge.
The trees to her right fell away abruptly and the ground dropped to a steep slope. Ocean, the same twilight blue as the sky, stretched out deep and infinite.
Her stomach fell like a stone off a cliff. Icy sweat sprang to her skin. She tried to swallow, but her mouth had gone dry. Her gaze stayed fixed on the terrifying expanse of water, and every muscle in her body seized. She couldn’t breathe.
For an instant, she could feel icy water stinging her skin. Taste the gritty, metallic flavor in her mouth. Her nose burned with the rush of frigid water into her sinuses and down her throat.
For an instant, she was drowning all over again.
Chapter Two
“What the hell?” Reece’s shout barely penetrated the fog wrapped around Brynn’s brain. He reached over and jerked the steering wheel sideways. The wall of trees on the opposite side of the drive rose up fast, and she stomped on the brake, seatbelt digging into her shoulder.
“Clutch!” Reece yelled.
She slammed her other foot on the small pedal, as Reece maneuvered the gearshift. The car jolted to a stop across the width of the drive, facing the tree-lined ridge.
At least she wasn’t looking at the sea anymore.
Brynn slumped against the seat, bile creeping up the back of her throat. She locked her jaw and squeezed her eyes shut. The last thing she wanted was to wind up doubled over emptying her stomach—and with an audience, no less.
“You nearly took us over the bloody cliff,” Reece snarled.
Even if she could have spoken without retching, she didn’t have a clue what to say. The minute her gaze had landed on the ocean, her brain ceased functioning. Her body had locked up except to steer where she looked.
She’d had panic attacks before when faced with large bodies of water, but she’d never shut down so completely. To be fair, she’d never come face-to-face with the place where her phobia had originated, either.
Cold dread curdled her insides. Had she made a mistake coming here? All those questions, maybe she was better off not knowing the answers.
Something brushed her stomach. She jerked back and opened her eyes. Reece reached across her lap.
“What are you doing?” she muttered, between clenched teeth.
“You’re white as death.” He pressed the button, lowering her window. Frigid air swept inside. The soft hush of the surf beating the shore filled her ears and a quiver rippled up her spine.
“Put your head down before you’re sick or pass out.” Reece pressed his hand to her back, forcing her to bend forward and to the side of the steering wheel. She might have argued, but she didn’t trust her insides enough to open her mouth.
Heat from his palm seeped through her knit jacket, warming her despite the wind gusting through the window. Brynn let out a slow breath, releasing some of the tension gripping her. She closed her eyes, dragged in another gulp of damp air. The pounding of her hear
t eased, and her breathing turned regular.
“Was it the height?” Reece’s tone was softer and slightly less combative than before.
She shook her head, but didn’t look at him. Heat stung her cheeks despite the chill. God, she must look crazy. “The water.”
“The water?”
The amused disbelief in his voice grated her already taut nerves. She sat up and his hand fell away. “A fear of water isn’t unusual, you know?”
“I suppose not, but someone suffering a fear of water visiting an island seems odd. Did you not know Ynys Mon was an island?”
“Of course I knew,” she snapped, wishing she didn’t sound so defensive.
He frowned. “How in the hell did you ever manage to fly across the ocean to get here?”
“I’m not afraid to fly.”
“You pitch a fit when you catch sight of the sea—”
“I did not pitch a fit!
“—but flying over it has no effect?”
“If the plane went down, I’d be dead when I hit the water. I wouldn’t have to worry about drowning.”
He stared at her like she’d sprouted another head.
She wished she could crawl under the seat. “Can we just go?”
“You tell me.”
She reached for the keys, but his hand wrapped around hers, warm and strong. Something fluttered low inside her. Just nerves.
“Maybe I should drive.” She opened her mouth to argue, but he cut her off. “Aside from not wanting to wind up crushed at the bottom of the cliff, God knows how bloody long it’ll take you to get turned around again.”
She just wanted this trip to end. “Fine.”
Reece didn’t give her a chance to change her mind. He got out of the car; she did likewise. They passed each other wordlessly as they rounded the back. She kept her gaze fixed on the muddy ground, refusing to allow herself a glance at those dark waves. Her breathing was still coming faster than normal. It wouldn’t take much to push her over the edge she clung to.
She collapsed into the passenger seat and tugged the belt over her shoulder. As if unable to help herself, she peeked at the slate water roiling and exploding against the shore. Her blood iced over, drained from her face. She squeezed her eyes closed.
The engine rumbled to life, low vibrations humming through her taut muscles. She felt the car roll slowly forward and curve back onto the drive.
“It still runs.” Reece said. “I was a bit worried you’d left the gearbox back there.”
“Ha, ha. You must have been a comedian before landing this job.”
“Not quite. Are you keeping your eyes closed to avoid looking at the water?” The image of those endless waves flashed across her mind and a shudder crawled over her skin. The question must have been rhetorical. He didn’t bother waiting for a reply. “You do realize Stonecliff overlooks the sea? Unless you plan on keeping your eyes closed your entire visit, you’ll likely have to look at it at some point during your stay.”
Didn’t she know it. Her reaction to open water hadn’t been this bad in years, but to be fair she usually made considerable effort to avoid lakes and oceans…rivers…paddling pools.
She’d be fine. She hadn’t expected to come upon the water when the car emerged from the trees. She’d just been caught off guard.
“You’re not about to go off again, are you?” Suspicion laced his deep voice.
“I’m ignoring you.”
He snorted, and she cracked an eye risking a peek at him. Even with only the faint glow of the dash lights, she could make out his grin. His entire face changed when he smiled like that, those granite features softening. The flutter in her belly returned.
As if sensing her gaze, he lifted his chin toward the windshield. “There’s the house.”
She opened both eyes and looked straight ahead. A hulking outline materialized from the gloom. The manor sat atop a large plateau overlooking the sea. At the rocky edge, the ground sloped steeply toward the water. A thick tangle of forest hemmed in the house at the back.
She held her breath, waiting for some hint of recognition, some spark of memory.
Nothing, only shivery unease.
Reece pulled into a large courtyard, driving past an ancient coach house, and parking her rental in front the manor before cutting the engine. Silence wrapped around them, except for the rain beating crazily on the car’s roof.
“Ready?” he asked.
Not even close. But she swallowed hard and nodded, anyway.
Brynn opened the car door and stepped out. Wind gusted, spraying her with freezing rain and wet snow. She kept her attention fixed on the ground to avoid looking at the water. For all the good it did with the brine thick in the air and the rush of the surf pounding the shore below.
She met Reece at the rear of the car, took back her keys and opened the trunk. As she hauled her carry-on bag onto her shoulder, Reece lifted out her suitcase.
“You don’t have to take that. I can manage,” she told him, quickly.
He rolled his eyes. “Believe me, I do.”
He started for the manor. Brynn slammed the trunk closed and hurried after him, but her gaze locked on the house. Stone walls, black from the wet weather, gleamed despite the darkness. Lights from two second-floor windows on either side of the vestibule glowed like yellow eyes over a dark, cavernous mouth.
Don’t go in there. The thought popped into her head, bringing with it an irrational swell of fear. Her breath hitched and she froze midstep.
“What are you doing now?” Reece’s exasperated voice dragged her attention to his scowl.
“Nothing.” She had to pull herself together. She’d already made an ass of herself in front of him once today. She’d really like to at least get inside with some shred of dignity in place.
She swallowed the coppery taste in her mouth and forced her feet forward, following Reece beneath the archway of the darkened vestibule. He opened the heavy oak door, moved aside and allowed her to go in first.
The wild panic surging through her vanished the moment she stepped into the warm hallway. Tiny prisms of color cast through dangling crystals on the intricate chandelier above danced over the patterned tile floor. Her gaze swept over the space, from the square staircase with a thick wooden banister, to the faded wallpaper and antique pieces of furniture.
There was nothing frightening, nothing menacing, just a sense of worn elegance.
Slowly, her heart settled into a normal rhythm and a wave of exhaustion rolled over her. Maybe bouts of paranoia were common in cases of extreme jet lag.
The door behind her closed with a solid thunk. Her face heated. She must look like some high-strung neurotic. Though, after today, maybe she was.
“Lord all mighty, Reece Conway. What can you be thinking?” A woman’s shrill voice broke into her thoughts. Brynn looked up at a tiny, ferret-faced woman storming down the stairs. The hem of her navy skirt brushed her calves, hissing against her thick beige hose with each step. “You’re not to be bringing your strumpets back here.”
Disdain curled the woman’s thin mouth as her nearly black gaze swept Brynn from foot to head.
Brynn turned to Reece. Did he bring a lot of women back here? What difference did it make? She didn’t even like the man, and he certainly wasn’t her type. He reminded her of those boys from high school with their ripped jeans and leather jackets. The kind of boys her grandparents would have grounded her for life if she had ever shown an interest in.
“You shouldn’t jump to conclusions,” Reece said, flashing a hard smile. “Ms. James is Eleri’s guest, not mine. Maybe you ought to fetch her and tell her that her sister has arrived.”
The woman’s close-set eyes narrowed, high-arced brows pulling into a confused frown. Her gaze bounced from Reece to Brynn. “It can’t be.”
Unease settled over Brynn, bringing with it a faint chill. This wasn’t how she’d imagined her return.
“Find Eleri,” Reece said. “I’m sure she’ll be pleased to ex
plain all of this.”
Without a word, the woman hurried down the hall.
Brynn turned to Reece, tight knots twisting her stomach. “Who was that?”
“Mrs. Voyle?” He slid his hands into his jeans’ pockets and leaned back against the door. “She’s the housekeeper.”
Brynn nodded slowly. “You didn’t know I was coming, did you?”
He shrugged. “Eleri James is hardly going to discuss such things with me.”
“And the housekeeper didn’t know either.”
“Obviously.”
If the staff hadn’t been told about her impending arrival, what about her father?
“You’ve made it, at last.” Brynn turned to the small woman emerging from the same hall Mrs. Voyle had disappeared down. “I was beginning to worry.”
Brynn’s throat tightened. This was her sister. How could her grandparents have kept this from her, died without telling her the truth?
Brynn searched for some sort of familial recognition, a fragment of memory.
Nothing.
If she’d passed Eleri on the street there was nothing about the woman that would make Brynn give her a second look. Nothing that so much as hinted they were related, let alone shared the same father.
Eleri was small, a good four or five inches shorter than Brynn’s own five foot seven. Her frame was tiny, though it was hard to be sure, swallowed up the way she was by an oversized gray sweater and baggy gray pants. Dark brown hair, cut blunt, framed her sharp features and curled beneath her pointed chin.
They looked nothing alike…except the eyes, maybe. Dark brown and lifting slightly at the corners, and interestingly, the feature Brynn liked least about herself.
She forced an awkward smile. “I got a little lost. Luckily, I ran into Reece at the pub when I stopped for directions.”
“Lucky, indeed.” The woman’s gaze shifted to Reece, her tone cooling considerably. “Found you at the pub, did she? No surprise there.”
Reece glowered; a muscle ticked at his jaw. “It was my afternoon off.”
Animosity thickened the air between them, and Brynn stepped back as if unconsciously moving out of the line of fire.
Eleri crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head to one side. “Take Brynn’s things to the front guest room. Mrs. Voyle can direct you. Whatever time you’ve had to take from drinking yourself into oblivion, you can have tomorrow. Provided I don’t need you for anything else, of course.”
Shivers Box Set: Darkening Around MeLegacy of DarknessThe Devil's EyeBlack Rose (Shivers (Harlequin E)) Page 28
