Enchanted (11 page)

With Blake close by her side, she followed the man down the cavernous foyer toward the back of Evers’s home. They walked deeper into the heart of the house. Rich tapestries and heavy medieval furnishings occupied the entrance and hallways. Gleaming armor with razor edged weapons stood guard along the route. The scent of aged burnished wood, faded flowers and something indubitably masculine filled her senses. Shadowed nooks popped up every few feet along the wide corridors. She squinted to peer into the dimness. All the wonderful treasures she witnessed so far made her hunger for what else might be hidden in the recesses.

After several minutes and many twists and turns, she heard voices ahead of them. She glanced at Blake. He cocked a brow at her.

Through an arched mahogany doorway, a sprawling room, bordered on the opposite side by multi-paned windows and open French doors, came into view. Leaves and twigs lay scattered across the flagstone floor in wild abandon, blown inside through the open doors. The beamed ceiling gave a rustic look to the off-white plaster walls.

Two sets of leather sofas with matching chairs flanked the stone fireplace directly across from the French doors, and just to the right of one sofa stood the man behind her journey to Wales.

Evers stood with a group of four men behind the well-padded sofa. Her breath caught in her throat and refused to move. She stopped in the doorway and studied Shay for a moment, confident he hadn’t noticed her yet.

With his hip against the furniture and balanced on one foot with the other flat on the opposite knee, he laughed with the men. Feet bare, he wore old, faded jeans with blown-out knees. A white open-collar shirt bagged about his body, its tail covering his hips and the tops of his thighs.

He shifted, placing both feet on the ground. With his hands tucked into his back pockets and his eyes alight with laughter, he leaned over and commented to the man nearest to him. The servant who led them to the room cleared his throat. Evers glanced toward them with a shy twist of his lips.

Caitlyn answered with one of her own. She liked this smile so much better than the devastating grin he’d made famous. This one with the sexy curl of his lips brightened his amethyst gaze. Warmth sprouted in the area of her heart.

He padded across the area rug covered with pagan Celtic symbols. When he reached her, he hunched his shoulders, tilted his head and grinned. “Hello.”

His strange shyness amazed and captivated Caitlyn. He hadn’t been timid in Los Angeles, but now he possessed a bashful, boyish manner. Perhaps, it was because he was home and comfortable.

She smiled. “So this is where you live. My boss, Mike Kramer, told me it was a faery tale castle but I thought he was joking. He wasn’t. You have a beautiful place.”

“Thanks. You should have seen it when I first bought it. All falling apart. It’s amazing what a little work can do. The house is over a hundred years old, built by an industrialist in the last century. They were real big in constructing huge homes. A lot of them considered themselves lords over the less fortunate. Didn’t last long, though.”

He stopped and turned, holding out his hand toward Blake. “You must be Caitlyn’s photographer.”

“Yes, sir. Blake Myers. This place is fine. A photo hog’s heaven.” Blake clasped Shay’s hand. The photographer, an awed expression on his face, turned to glance around him. “Have you ever thought about doing a home magazine spread?”

Shay shook his head and chuckled with a quick wink at Caitlyn. “The man appreciates beauty. But please, come in. You must be exhausted. It’s a long flight.” He grasped her arm with gentle fingers and escorted her into the room.

The shrill voice of a woman came from the opposite side of the room interrupting any introduction he’d been about to make. “Master Shay, how many times do I have to tell ye? When ye come in, close the doors behind ye. Look at the mess ye’ve made.”

An elderly woman stood near the French doors, a broom in her hands and a wrinkled frown marring her features. Shay detoured, turning toward her. Caitlyn trailed behind, her arm still captured by him.

“I’m sorry, Grazelda. I forgot again.” Features contrite, he bent to look into the woman’s wizened face.

She sniffed. “It’s bad enough ye have Master Rhys bringing all those plants into this house, but it makes it harder to keep clean if ye leave the doors open.” The old woman shook her head, glaring at the leaves scattered across the flagstones. “I simply don’t know what I’m going to do with ye, young sir.”

Shay plucked the broom from Grazelda’s aged hands and started sweeping with long, strong strokes. “Here, give that to me. You keep Ms. Reiley company. She’s the reporter I told you about. From Los Angeles.”

“Ah, Ms. Reiley.” Grazelda stared at Caitlyn, curiosity reflected on her face. She nodded as though satisfied with what she saw. Her hair, pulled into a braided crown about her head, bounced. “I believe Mr. Shay told me yer name was Caitlyn. Yes?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Ah, such a lovely name. Do ye know the meaning of it?”

“I remember looking it up once, but I don’t recall the meaning,” Caitlyn hedged. She didn’t care about her name. Her interest lay in what Shay was doing.

The leaves and wind fought with the broom. He stopped for a second, glanced from the leaves to outside. He reached for the doors and shut them one at a time. Working quickly, he gathered the rebellious foliage into a large pile.

Next, he bent and scooped up a bunch, cracked the door and tried to stuff the debris through the small gap. The breeze appeared determined to keep the leaves inside, with more flying back indoors than those that went out. Caitlyn bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

Grazelda leaned closer and spoke low. “Caitlyn means pure beauty, and ye certainly live up to yer name, young lady. It’s about time he brought a young lovely home. Poor dear has little interest in finding a wife.”

Caitlyn’s eyes widened at the mention of a wife, and she turned her full attention to the old woman. “I’m interviewing him, not marrying him.”

“Of course not, dearie, but I can still hope.” A toothless grin brightened the elderly woman’s face. Caitlyn shook her head, wanting to make it clear to the woman she had no intention of becoming involved with Evers.

She looked over at Shay in time to see him turn from a large ornate urn next to the closed door. He grinned at the housekeeper and handed her the broom. “There now, all cleaned up. I’ll show Caitlyn to her room.”

“Oh well, sure. Poor dear, she’s probably worn to the bone, coming from so far away.” The old woman nodded and ambled toward the door on the far side of the room.

Caitlyn crossed her arms and tilted her head, looking hard at Shay. “Where did you put those leaves?”

He shifted from one foot to the other. A slow grin appeared. “I’ll throw them out later.”

A laugh bubbled up and escaped her. His smile widened, and he glanced at the urn. With his voice deliberately higher, he spoke in a squeaky feminine voice. “Come on along, dearie. Time for ye to settle in.”

“And Blake?”

He reverted to his normal tone, his gaze aimed at Blake standing near the doorway.

“Fred will show him where to go, but you...” He winked at her. “You receive special treatment.”

Caitlyn’s heart pounded hard over the last part. Heat circulated to the insides of her thighs. “Do I?”

“Sure. I know who to cozy up to so this interview goes smoothly.” He took her arm and tugged her out the door and down the hall. He instructed the man who had guided them to show Blake to his room.

Shay pulled her with him through the house to the foyer. This time, she noticed the repetition of intricate Celtic designs. They dominated the decorations and architecture in the castle. Once they reached the entrance, he led her up the stairs to the second floor. She saw the same patterns she’d noticed below.

They continued through hallways and rooms to reach the back of the house. He stopped in front of a door and twisted the knob. The door swung open, revealing a sitting room done in pale blue.

“Oh, it’s so pretty.”

“I thought you might like a view to the gardens.” He breezed by and strode to the windows. He opened one and leaned out, inhaling the fresh air.

She followed and stood to one side. Sunlight poured over him, revealing glints of red in the thick mass of hair tumbling past his shoulders. He turned sideways, studying her. “So do you like it?”

With a smile, she nodded. “Yes, I do. It’s lovely.”

“Good. Well, I’d better go and let you rest. When you’re ready to come down again, there’s some stairs at the end of this hall. They’ll take you to the kitchen. Someone should be there. Odds are, they’ll know where I am if you should need me.”

She raised a brow. “Is this room above where we were a minute ago?”

He grinned, shrugging. “I wanted to show you the house.”

Caitlyn laughed and slowly shook her head. He amazed her with his charm. He had just led her through the entire house then back again on the second floor. All they needed to have done was go to the back staircase to reach the room a lot quicker.

He started to turn away, but for a moment, seemed to hesitate. She held her breath and waited for him to speak. He remained silent, pivoted, then headed to the door.

“When did you want to begin the interview?” She called after him.

He answered over his shoulder. “In the morning. That’ll give you and Blake a chance to recuperate from the flight.”

Before she could answer, the door closed behind him. Caitlyn chewed on her bottom lip. He’d acted like he wanted to say something, but changed his mind.

She leaned out the window and shut her eyes, inhaling the crisp cool air. Peace and joy entered her. The air held a chilly bite to it, but the sky was clear and the sun warm. She opened her eyes and glanced around the rolling gardens below her window.

A man working with a shovel about five hundred feet from the house caught her eye. He looked familiar. He straightened, removed the floppy hat from his head, and swiped the moisture from his brow. Rhys. No mistaking that golden hair. She opened her mouth to call to him, but stopped. Shay came into view several feet from Rhys. He spoke to the gardener, turned to leave, but froze as Rhys’s right hand slashed down. Even from a distance, his anger was visible.

Shay, head lowered, stood listening to whatever the older man said. He nodded once before he strode away toward the forest bordering the gardens.

Her investigative instinct sprang to life. What had Shay done to make the older man chew him out? Rhys returned to his flower bed.

Exhausted, but still keyed up from the plane ride and long drive, Caitlyn decided to follow Shay, determined to discover more about the illusionist. She managed to make her way back to the den area in the rear of the house. No one was about, so she slipped through the French doors. She stopped and inhaled the wonderful aroma of flowers. All sorts of floral scents permeated the air. Smiling, she walked down the path in the direction Shay disappeared.

Several yards from the house, the path took a sharp right bend and sloped downward. Trees grew tall and solid along either side of the path. She slipped once and had to grab the nearest tree. The moist bark scraped her palm. She pulled her hand away and wiped at the dark lined marks in the scratches.

Further down the path, the slope of the land leveled. A small clearing appeared to her left and a large hangar-sized barn stood toward the back of the area. Two panel trucks were backed to the open doors. Men, laughing and talking, moved to and from the trucks into the building. They unloaded Shay’s equipment for his performances.

Caitlyn grinned, knowing she’d find him there. Without considering what he might think, she hurried to the building. Some of the men stopped and stared at her in curiosity, but others frowned like she intruded on them. She waved and continued forward to enter the three-story high hangar. She stopped, allowing her eyes to become adjusted to the dim light.

“Caitlyn?”

She pivoted to see Shay striding toward her from a side row of crates and boxes stacked neatly on the right.

“Hi. I couldn’t rest so I thought I’d explore a little.”

The puzzled expression relaxed and he smiled. “Of course, though it might be a little dangerous roaming about in here.”

“I’ll be careful.”

He nodded and asked, “Would you like a tour?”

“Sure, but if you’re busy, I’ll look on my own.”

“Oh no. I’m not doing anything in particular.” He held out his hand, palm up, to her. “Come on. Let’s go back here. We’ll be out of the way.”

He guided her to the aisle he had just come from and they entered a wide corridor stretching the length of the building. Each side was bracketed by crates and tall boxes.

As they walked down the row, Caitlyn saw the mirror from his act in Los Angeles standing at the end. Uncovered, the lacquered wood picked up the small bit of light and gleamed. She motioned toward the piece. “That was a great performance, the one you did with the mirror.”

“Want to take a closer look?” Shay asked, lengthening his steps and tugging her behind him.

She had no choice but to follow. Once at the end of the aisle, he stopped, standing to one side so she had a better view. An uneasy feeling nudged her, and she couldn’t look into the glass. Shay reached over and brushed the back of his fingers across her cheek.