Deception (25 page)

“Clay,” she whispered.

“Open your present,” he coaxed.

Connor sat up. She pulled the ribbon off the end of the box, slit the paper with her thumb, and opened the lid. Emerald silk, trimmed in beige lace, whispered in the clouds of rose tissue paper. Connor lifted the teddy out of the papers. The front plunged in a V, and a lace ruffle touched the high-cut legs.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, kissing his neck and jaw and ear. Her fingers curled in his thick hair. No man had ever made her feel so desirable, so special.

“Put it on,” he requested.

Connor traced his lips with her finger, then kissed him softly. “ Thank you, Clay.”

“It’s as much for me as you,” he answered. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Connor. Really beautiful. I love the way you look in your riding pants and boots, but this will be a nice contrast.”

Laughing, Connor picked up the scrap of material and took it to the bathroom. A discussion about the trip to Washington could wait. Clay had gone to so much trouble to pick out a present for her, and such a present. Just the touch of the luxurious silk made her feel sexy. In the bathroom she dropped her robe on the vanity chair and slipped into the teddy. The sheer fabric settled on her curves, clinging in all the right places. As Connor walked out to the bedroom, she saw the flames of the fire glistening on Clay’s nude body. He was standing with his back to her, looking at the door.

She paused in the doorway, heat rushing over her at the sight of him. His back was sculpted in muscles that narrowed to a small waist. His buttocks, white where his swim trunks had protected him from the sun, were perfectly dished. Without making a sound, she crossed the room and pressed herself full length against him. The rigid stance of his body startled her.

“What is it?” she asked, her hands sliding around his chest to lock him in her embrace.

“I thought I heard someone at the door.” He remained alert, listening.

“Did you look?”

“Shush,” he whispered softly.

Pressed against him, Connor felt his heart beating slow and steady. They both strained to hear something in the hallway, anything. The scurry of feet, a giggle, if it was the children eavesdropping on them.

There was a sound! Connor’s heart paused, her head aching from the extreme concentration. The sound came again, and dread almost made her gasp. Clay heard it, she could feel the tension humming through his muscles. The noise came once more, and Connor knew what it was.

It was the sound of fingernails against the wood of the door. Someone was clawing lightly outside her suite!

Clay sprang across the room, turning the key with one hand and the knob with the other. Outside, there was the sound of footsteps running, fast and light, along the landing.

Connor stood frozen beside the sofa as Clay flung open the door and sprinted down the stairs, his footsteps heavier.

In the distance, echoing through the hallway and up the stairs, there was the sound of the outside screen door slamming. Forcing herself to take one step at a time, Connor walked to the window that gave a view of the orchard.

Her hand pushed the curtain aside, and against the cool pane she pressed her cheek for a split second before she lifted her head and looked out at the bare pecan trees.

Someone darted among the trunks, someone slender and fast. Rubbing the glass to remove the mist that had formed, Connor looked harder. The elusive figure shifted again, sprinting from trunk to trunk in the darkness. The distance was too far and the night too dark for Connor to get a clear view of who it was.

Clay appeared at the edge of the orchard. Naked, his body gleaming in the light from the open back door, he stood, uncertain what to do. Connor watched as he strained to run forward, to pursue the intruder. But common sense reined him back. He edged out of the frame of the window, and in a moment Connor heard him on the stairs, running lightly back to her room.

“I left you here,” he said, bursting through the door. “Coming up the stairs I realized I’d simply left you alone, without any protection.” He rushed into the room, careful to lock the door behind him.

His arms closed around Connor and she could feel the cold night on his skin. She wanted to close her eyes, to melt into him, but she couldn’t stop looking at the orchard, waiting for whoever was hiding to move.

“Connor?” Clay realized how tense and quiet she was. “Did you see someone?”

“Yes.” Her voice was oddly calm. “Whoever it is is still hiding in the pecans.”

Clay leaned closer to the glass, his interest immediately fixed on the dark trees. “Where?”

“About the ninth row. Just there.” She pointed. That was where the hider had last ducked behind a tree.

“Could you see well enough to tell who it was?”

“No. It was just a movement. The screen door slammed and then I saw someone running in the trees. Someone hiding and running.” She felt the tremble start in her knees and work up. Her teeth chattered uncontrollably.

“Get in bed, I’ll watch,” Clay said, chafing her cold arms with his hands.

Connor shook her head. “Watch with me just a moment. Whoever it is will move as soon as they think we’ve stopped watching.”

“Do you suppose they can see us?” Clay asked, easing the curtain back in place.

“Maybe we should go down there.” There was nothing in the world Connor wanted to do less, but she had to know. Who was watching? Why? “Could it have been one of the children?”

“That thought has crossed my mind,” Clay said. “Renata is capable of sneaking around. I warned you, she loves to plunder in other people’s business.”

“Check the children,” Connor said slowly.

“I don’t want to leave you.” Clay kissed her neck.

“Clay, if there was a stranger in this house, the children are in danger. If someone is here to do mischief, you’ll be the target, not me. I’m only hired help! Go on; I’ll lock the door.”

Without another word Clay picked up his pants and stepped into them. In two seconds he had his shirt and shoes on and was at the door. “Lock it and don’t open it until I come back.”

“Hurry, Clay,” Connor urged him. She had a sudden, terrible fear.

As soon as Clay started running down the stairs, Connor turned the lock and leaned against the door. Her heart galloped, affecting her ability to breathe.

She turned to face the fireplace. The flames flickered as if nothing had happened. Connor glanced up at the ornate mirror over the mantel. The woman who stared back at her was frightened. Her body trembled in a sheer teddy. Connor pushed her hair off her forehead and the woman in the mirror did the same.

“Let them be okay,” she whispered out loud. “Please, let them be okay.” She was freezing, but she didn’t want to leave the door. When Clay returned, she wanted to be there to open it.

Why was it taking him so long?

She traced his path—down her stairs, along the hall to the central stairs, and up again to the second floor. Renata’s room was on the left front, Danny’s, right front. Clay should be there now, opening Renata’s door, seeing her asleep, her dark curls spread out along her pillow. He’s closing her door and checking Danny. The little blond head poking out from under his favorite old Batman blanket. Safe.

Clay would be coming back to her. She pressed her fingers to the door, ready to feel the vibration of his footsteps on the stairs. Instead, she thought of the clawing noise she’d heard outside her door. Like a corpse scratching inside the coffin. “The Fall of the House of Usher” and Poe surfaced in the dark pool of her mind. She pushed it aside, blanking out everything except the order to breathe, until she heard Clay’s approach.

Clay’s footsteps were calmer, not as hurried. She felt a wonderful sense of relief as she unlocked the door and welcomed him inside.

“They were sound asleep. No pretending, either. I kissed both of them. The two of us must have overactive imaginations tonight. Either that, or some of the spooks Sally is so afraid of were roaming the halls.”

“Let’s get in bed.” Connor couldn’t help the way her teeth chattered. Her words were choppy, broken. It was nerves more than cold, but she wanted to sneak beneath the warm covers, to bond herself to Clay in the warmth of the bed.

“Let’s go,” Clay agreed as he locked the door. “In the morning, I’ll take a look around the orchard before I go to the office.”

Connor paused at the window. She couldn’t resist one more look. At the far back of the orchard a figure caught her eye. It stood beside an old tree, staring directly up at Connor’s window.

“Clay! Look!”

The figure darted away behind a tree, as if it knew someone had seen it.

“Did you see it? I could swear it looked like a woman!” Connor didn’t understand why she felt such dread at her words, but she did. A cold, nameless horror settled deep in her bones.

“I didn’t see anything,” Clay said slowly. He put his arms around Connor. “Where?”

“She was toward the back, just standing and staring up at this window. I swear it, Clay. I don’t know how you didn’t see her. She was right there in the open.”

“I’ll check it tomorrow,” he insisted, easing her away from the window and toward the bed. “You’re tired. Your eyes may have been playing tricks.”

“What are you saying?” Connor put a hand on a bedpost for balance and turned to face Clay. He’d heard the noise at the door. He’d chased someone out into the night, yet he was looking at her with a sort of amused tolerance. Why was he acting like it was something she’d made up?”

“It couldn’t have been a woman. Sally’s gone home. Her mother was sick or something, and she asked to leave early. I saw her get in the truck with Old Henry.” Clay’s voice was soft, and he bent to kiss her neck. “Willene can’t run fast enough, Renata’s in bed asleep, and you’re right here in my arms. There aren’t any other women at Oaklawn.”

“It was a woman,” Connor insisted. “I saw her.” It was suddenly important to her to make Clay believe this.

“You’re beginning to sound like one of the children.”

The note of gentle reprimand in Clay’s voice was more effective than a slap. Connor’s body stiffened. “Why are you treating me like this?” she asked.

Clay’s gaze would not connect with hers. “I’ll check tomorrow, Connor. It could have been a trick of light, or a small shrub blowing in a breeze. Maybe we both heard a rat in the wall and got ourselves worked up over nothing. I really thought it was Renata, up to her old tricks of eavesdropping, but since it wasn’t her …”

Connor got in between the sheets he held open for her. Unexplainable tears rolled down her cheeks. She had seen someone. A woman, standing in the trees, staring up at her window. That’s what was so frightening, Connor realized. It was as if the woman watched her—not another member of the Sumner family, but her.

Connor awoke with a slight headache and a feeling of panic. The bed beside her was empty; Clay had returned to his room in the gray dawn, but not before he’d told Connor they would spend Christmas at Oaklawn. The panic was a remnant of the events of the night before. No matter how Clay denied it or tried to explain it rationally, someone had been at her door, and someone had been in the pecan orchard. It was Clay’s unwillingness to believe that she’d seen someone in the orchard that made her feel anxious.

The floor was cold to Connor’s bare feet as she went to the bathroom and turned on the shower. A hot spray and some coffee would wake her up completely, and maybe then she’d be able to think. And think she had to. There was something about last night that was threatening to her—not to Clay and his family, but to her. And that was the bizarre part. No one in Mobile really knew her. There was no one from her past who meant her harm. Why was someone scratching at her door at Oaklawn and watching her?

Why?

She turned the spray of the shower to sharp, hot needles and stood under it until her scalp and shoulders prickled. The headache eased, and she finished showering and dressing with a growing sense of purpose. She’d go out to the orchard. Clay had an early appointment in town, so he hadn’t had time to check things out. She’d find a sign that someone had been there. Then Clay would have to believe her.

In order not to draw attention to herself, she stopped in the kitchen and sat down at the big table for a cup of coffee, toast, and grits. It was the morning tradition at Oaklawn for her to share breakfast with Willene.

“What was going on outside last night?” Willene asked, as she poured the aromatic brew into a cup for Connor. “Eggs?”

“Just toast and grits,” Connor answered, as she sipped the black coffee. “Did you see someone outside? Someone strange?”

“I did see something strange.” Willene’s eyebrows rose up higher than her glasses, and there was a twinkle in her eye. “I haven’t seen Clay Sumner bare-assed since he was a little baby. I do believe he could pose for some of those magazines.”

Connor choked on the coffee. She covered her mouth and barely swallowed. “You saw Clay?”

“He came thundering down the stairs from your room and ran out into the yard, banging the door like the house was on fire. I got up to take a look, but when I saw his private parts a-wavin’ in the breeze, I decided if he was playin’ games in the dead of night maybe it would be best if I minded my own business and went back to bed.”

Connor wanted to smile at the picture Willene drew, but she didn’t. Behind all of Willene’s teasing, there was a hint of concern, and Connor knew it was for her. “Clay heard someone in the house,” she answered. “He went out to see if he could find them.” A possibility entered her mind. “Before Clay slammed the door, didn’t you hear it bang lightly?”

“Not at all. I had gotten up to come to the kitchen to heat some milk. My arthritis was acting up, and I couldn’t sleep. I heard Clay coming down those stairs like a locomotive, and then he banged outside. Did he say he saw someone?” Willene’s humor had evaporated into worry.

Connor hesitated. Surely Willene could have heard the door slam. She’d heard it all the way up in her room. Or she’d thought she did. “No, we heard something. Clay never really saw anyone.”

“Well, that’s a good thing. What would he have done with them if he’d caught them, him without a stitch on?”