Darkest Dreams (19 page)

Read Darkest Dreams Online

Authors: Jennifer St. Giles

“Have you found any other women who've been murdered and marked?”

“I don't think you heard me,” he said.

I tossed my hands up in frustration. “Alex, you can at least discuss the matter with me and let me ask questions.”

He sighed. “No. I've contacted all of the authorities along the coast and have not found any similar cases. No symbols carved upon the victims.”

“What does the symbol look like? I know a great deal about different symbols in relation to ancient people and their artifacts. I may be able to help.”

He hesitated.

“Given the severity of the situation, I don't think any stone should be left unturned or any resource ignored.”

“I'll draw it for you as the doctor showed it to Sean and me.”

I handed Alex my cataloguing notebook and a pen. “Use one of the blank pages in the back.”

He flipped it open and glanced at the work I'd done already in his home. “Good Lord, woman. This is amazing.” He scanned several more pages before turning to the blank pages in the back. He spoke as he drew. “You're not only thorough, but you've done more in a week than I'd expected could be done in several.”

“As I consider such work my profession, I wouldn't be anything but thorough and timely.”

He handed the notebook back to me, and I glanced at the drawing. It was simple enough, a circle with a line bisecting it, only at the bottom and at the top, the line branched into three segments, depicting a center line that continued straight to the edge of the circle, a line angling to the right and a
 
line angling to the left. A small oval lay in the center of the circle. I studied it for a minute, feeling my stomach turn over where I imagined this had been carved. “I've never come across this particular symbol before.”

“Neither Sean nor I recognize it.”

“It could mean more than one thing?”

“For example?”

“The oval in the center looks like an eye.”

“Which could mean a number of things. Evil eye. Watching. Is the killer saying he watched Helen and Mary?”

“Maybe.” I shivered. Put in that context, it made me wonder if the killer was watching someone else now.

Alex wandered over to the open crates to peer down at some of the things I'd unearthed, not as unconcerned with what might be in the boxes as he'd indicated.

“You have to see these artifacts,” I said. “They are amazing.” I held up two heavy, gold figurines. “These are most likely worth a fortune. And you won't believe this.” I pulled out an alabaster carving of a lotus blossom, running my fingers over the cool, solid smoothness of the stone. “Isn't this magnificent? Look at how gracefully made this flower is.”

“Beautifully wrought,” he said softly.

I glanced up and he just smiled, making my heart flutter and my cheeks heat. Artifacts. Focus on the artifacts. “Honestly, Alex, these things shouldn't be in a crate. They should be displayed at the very least, better yet if they were put in a museum for others to enjoy. How long did you say they have been like this?”

“I didn't say,” he replied, his voice almost like a whisper. “The last trip my parents made together was to Egypt. My mother returned from the trip just before she gave birth to me and Sean. I asked my father one day when I was about seven years old why this room was kept as it was, untouched. Do you know what he said?”

I shook my head, afraid of what was coming.

“Upon returning from Egypt my mother gave strict instructions that no one was to touch her treasures. She'd unpack them herself just as soon as she had her son. These were my mother's quarters. There's an adjoining bedroom and nursery. He told me he was waiting for her to unpack the crates. I don't think my father has ever been back to this room since she died.”

Was the earl mad? So grieved that he'd lost touch with reality? Was there no part of the Killdarens' lives that wasn't touched by such sadness? “Are you going to forgive him?” I asked quietly, recalling what Alex had told his father last Friday.

“No,” Alex said. “His insecurity and cowardice cost Mary her life. You should be outraged that he'd had important facts about Helen's death deliberately kept quiet. Knowing what had been done to her could have changed things.”

“What?” I asked, trying to play devil's advocate, maybe because in some way by not telling what I'd read from Rebecca's mind I was doing the same thing as the earl. “I'm not attempting to excuse or condone what your father did, but the doctor said he didn't discover the mark on Lady Helen until a day or so after her death. You and Sean had already fought. So learning then wouldn't have changed things. If you had known of the mark before, what would you have done different? Knowing now hasn't led you to the killer's door. How would knowing then have changed things?”

“How could it not? I would have…”

“What?”

His hands fisted. “I would have searched harder for Helen's killer.”

“Why? Why does knowing about the symbol change things?”

“You want the ugly truth?”

I nodded and he turned away from me. I thought he wasn't going to answer then, but after long moment, he spoke harshly.

“Because I would have known without a shadow of a doubt that neither I nor Sean had killed her. As it was, we were both so grieved that we drank until neither of us could remember much about what we did between Helen's rejection and Sean going over the cliff. Neither of us could swear upon our innocence. I've done nothing because there has always been a small doubt that either he or I had killed her.”

I went to him, took hold of his shoulders, and pressed my cheek to his back. “I'm sorry,” I said. The dark cloud of emotions in him swirled stronger than ever, but I could see more than ever before; anger, pain, regret, passion and a deep need to turn around and pull me into his embrace, a need that was completely at odds with his self-imposed prison. I'd gotten too close, though.

He pulled away from me then, stalking from the room, a man in pain and anguish, and part of my heart went with him.

Chapter Twelve

I left work early, deliberating about what to do next. How could I get past the barriers Alex had built? Looking down at the emerald-eyed serpent ring on my finger, I wondered what a woman named Aphrodite would do under such circumstances. And just as I saw myself in Kubla Kahn's court with Marco Polo, I saw myself dressed in Grecian robes and draped with gold. I was a goddess, pampered and supreme. A woman whose appeal no man could resist. I very clearly saw Alex march into Aphrodite's private rooms, his dark hair cut shorter, his pirate's air hardened beneath the armored demeanor of a Greek warrior. His skin just as tanned against the stark white of his dress that molded tightly to the supple curve of his taut muscles. He was a man fearless in life and in battle, a man insatiable in passion, a man that Aphrodite had seen from afar and wanted as hers.

“I am Alexander. You wished to see me?” Alexander said.

“Yes,” Aphrodite said, rising from her cushioned divan to step into the full light of the sun pouring into the room. The golden light bathed her lush beauty to a dazzling brilliance, and she knew it. Alexander was indeed great, god-like. She watched his gaze slide down her body and saw the hunger in it rise. She noted the slight parting of his lips as if they were anticipating the taste of her. Arching her back so that her full breasts strained against the almost sheer fabric of her dress, she moved gracefully, pouring two cups of wine, and handed him a goblet. “I'm in need of a man.”

He lifted a brow. “A warrior? A steward? An advisor?”

“A lover.” She drew a long sip from her spiced wine, sliding her tongue over its lingering taste upon her lips.

He arched a brow. “I've always admired directness in my men and my foes.”

“Then should a woman be less than a man? Should you value her directness less?”

He closed the gap between them and took the goblet of wine from her. She thought with a thrill that at last the man she'd wanted so long from afar would be hers at least for a night. Instead of setting down the wine, he handed her his goblet. Then he drank from hers, placing his mouth exactly where she'd placed hers. “You're obviously not one of my loyal men. Question is, are you friend or foe?”

Aphrodite smiled and drank from his goblet. “Neither. I am your lover.”

He laughed. “I determine who my lovers are.”

“Then I eagerly await your decision, Alexander,” Aphrodite said as she poured the wine she held down her dress. Then, loosening her belt, she slipped off her robes. Moving to the puddle of sunshine warming her large bed, she lay down. She cupped her breasts, lifting them as an offering of headily drenched fruit. “I hope I won't have to wait too long. Wine dries rather quickly.”

“Only when there isn't enough,” he said, approaching the bed. He dribbled more on her from the goblet he held and followed the action with the heat of his tongue. A fire lit hotly in her loins and burned bright with every stroke of his tongue. She purred as the wine slid down to her navel. He drank from her there, not letting a drop escape. He pressed his palm against the fire of her sex, slipping his fingers intimately against her yearning flesh.

Then he stood back and drained his goblet. Aphrodite rose to her elbows, her full breasts aching for more, her body yearning for the hard staff straining against his robe.

“I'll let you know when I decide,” he said. Then, turning, he walked for the door.

Aphrodite didn't even blink. She rolled from the bed and snatched up a sword. “Move another step and suffer the consequences.”

He turned, undaunted by the sharp weapon. “And what would those be?”

She laughed. “You'll lose your dress and walk naked through the streets. You may lie to yourself about your desire for me, but I'll not let you lie to the world.”

“Then shall we duel?” he said, humor glinting his green eyes.

“With what?” she asked.

“Sword or tongue, lady's choice.”

“And for what shall we duel?” she asked

“My choice. To be determined upon the end of the battle.

Aphrodite tossed aside her sword. “I choose tongue.”

“A shame,” he said, stripping off his robes. “My sword was all ready to play.”

“Miss…Miss…can you hear me? We're here.”

I shook my head, removing my gaze from Aphrodite's ring, and stared open-mouthed at the driver, who stood waiting to help me down from the buggy. Bits of information slowly filtered into my mind. No naked Alexander. No plush bed. No naked me.

The driver waved wildly, but not at me. “Mrs. Murphy,” he shouted. “I think Miss Andrews is ill.”

I scowled and straightened my shoulders. “I'm just fine, sir.” I set my hand in his and climbed down on shaky legs, seeing in his mind an image of him drinking in a pub, singing at the top of his lungs with friends who were even more off key than he. I was far from fine, but I wasn't going to let anyone else know.

Mrs. Murphy ran down the steps with Bridget and Cassie on her heels.

“Lass, what's ailing you?” Mrs. Murphy asked, peering closely at me. I had no doubt that if Alex had kissed me today as he had before, she would have seen the evidence. As it was now, I greatly feared she could read my scandalous thoughts.

“Andrie? What happened? Why have you returned so early? You look flushed.” Cassie set her palm on my forehead, making me thankful for the very first time in my life that I could read thoughts and not she.

I drew a deep breath. “I'm fine, really. Just a number of things on my mind, and I lost track of time. It surprised me to find we'd already arrived.”

“Still, you're early.”

“A—the viscount thinks that I'm working too hard,” I explained.

Both Cassie and Bridget gave me an odd look, telling me I wasn't going to get off that easily.

Cassie waved her hand toward the bright blooms and sculpted shrubs sprawling from the graveled path. “Bridget and I were just about to take a stroll through the garden. Why don't you come with us?”

Knowing I'd not escape, I joined them. Considering the wild path my thoughts ran when I was alone, their company was a good thing for the moment. The gardens at Killdaren's Castle were somewhat of an oddity. They were overshadowed on the left by Sean's dark, gargoyle decorated observatory, and literally hedged in at the back by a large, dense maze, a teasing puzzle Sean's mother had spent years planning and had built to please the earl, who at one time had thrived on puzzles.

Now the maze was something Cassie and Sean considered having removed, a place of unpleasant memories for everyone except the earl. Lady Helen had met her death in the gazebo at the center of the maze. Jamie had snatched Cassie from the edge of the garden and dragged her into the maze and then down through tunnels that ran from the gazebo to the ground beneath the Circle of Stone Virgins, and amazingly to the cliffs at Dragon's Cove. I would have liked to have seen them for myself, but they were closed off after Cassie's rescue.

No, what made Killdaren's gardens unusual was the collection of statues reigning over its glorious dahlias, lush roses and daffodils—sweet, nectarous beauties that never failed to attract the prettiest butterflies and the fattest bumbling bees. Even the birds seemed to sing louder whenever amid the collection of gods and goddesses of many myths. From Poseidon to Zeus to Aphrodite and Venus, their creamy marbled nude images were larger than life…everywhere. It made for a rather interesting walk. Thankfully, today we went opposite Zeus's direction.

“Where's Gemini?” I asked, hoping to divert the conversation from me.

“Wrapped in a blanket in the drawing room playing checkers with Rebecca while Prudence is embroidering a chessboard, and Sean is asleep. Now let's not waste time. Why are you back so early? Did something untoward happen with Alex?”

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