Hatfield and McCoy (7 page)

“Now this—is madness!” he said hoarsely.

Julie pulled furiously away from him. They were alone with an open grave site and dozens of broken-down tombstones. Voices were growing faint in the distance.

“Yes, it is. You don't even like me, do you?” Julie accused him.

“I never said that—”

“Well, it is certainly extreme madness,” Julie insisted. “The moon is out, that's my only excuse. Really. A handshake would have sufficed!” Confused, flushed, dismayed, she turned, nearly stumbling over one of the old tombstones. He caught her arm. She wrenched it free. “Good night, Mr. McCoy.” Determined not to trip again, Julie kept walking. She heard his soft laughter behind her.

“Miss Hatfield?”

“What?”

“Am I going to see you again?”

“No!”

Again, his laughter touched her. She spun in a new fury. “All right, McCoy, what is it now?”

“All right, Miss Hatfield. You're the psychic. But you're wrong. I will see you again. I'm very certain of it.”

And smiling like a self-satisfied cat, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his black leather jacket and sauntered confidently past her.

Chapter 4

M
cCoy was right.

Julie did see him again, and much sooner than—but certainly not where—she had expected.

Just five days later she saw him in church, sitting just a few rows ahead of her. He was with a tall, slim woman with dark sandy hair and two children. An uneasiness spread throughout her. She hadn't thought that he could be married.

No, she couldn't be his wife. Not even someone with McCoy's inborn arrogance could have kissed her the way he did if he had a wife.

Still …

When the woman turned enough so that Julie could see her face, she saw that the woman was beautiful. She had bright blue eyes and fine, stunning features. At her side was a little girl, maybe a year or two older than Tracy Nicholson. She had soft, pale blond hair that waved down her back. She must have sensed Julie watching her, because she turned and her eyes met Julie's. She smiled. It was a wonderful smile.

Then the boy turned, too. He was about twelve. His eyes weren't blue. They were that steel gray color, just like McCoy's.

So he did have a wife and family …

No, he couldn't have. She was certain she would have known.

Maybe not. Inner sight could be blind at the strangest times.

The woman, realizing that the two children were staring at someone or something behind them, turned, too. Of course, she caught Julie staring right at her.

She smiled.

Well, it was time.

McCoy turned, too.

He wasn't in his black jacket, but neither had he really dressed for church. No one really dressed up in the spring and early summer; they didn't want the many tourists in the area to feel awkward for dressing casually. Julie was casual herself in a short denim skirt and short-sleeved tailored white blouse. A little bit of warmth went a long way. She was wearing sandals and no stockings.

McCoy wore black trousers and a turquoise knit shirt. The buttons were open at his neck. She didn't meet his eyes. She was staring at the tiny space of chest covered with coarse, sandy whorls of hair that was just visible at the opening of his shirt. He was tanned, so the skin beneath the springy feel of hair would be bronze. And tight. He was very well muscled. A powerful man. She had noted that when he had ripped the coffin open, and she had felt it the several times that he had touched her.

Her eyes met his. She was suddenly convinced that Robert McCoy had a few powers of his own. He'd been reading her mind. And of course, her mind had been on his body.

Right in the middle of the last amen!

He smiled. Smiled just as he had the night they had found Tracy. Smiled like a man who knew something. As if he held something over her.

She nodded briefly, then tore her eyes from his and looked straight ahead.

But by then, the service was ending. And when she slipped from her pew and started out, she stiffened. She didn't need to turn to realize that he was right behind her.

As soon as they stepped from the church and into the daylight, she felt his hand on her arm, stopping her. “Why, Miss Hatfield! Good morning. Were you in there praying for divine guidance?”

She spun, smiling sweetly. “On the contrary, Mr. McCoy. No one wants to see things that others don't.”

He arched a doubting brow, then turned quickly as the woman he had been with emerged from the church. “Julie Hatfield, this is my sister, Brenda Maitland. Of course, underneath she's really a McCoy. Being as you're a Hatfield, I feel obliged to remind you of such a thing.”

“Oh, Miss Hatfield!” Brenda Maitland extended a hand to her and offered her a broad smile. “How nice to meet you. And how very wonderful that the two of you found that little girl.” She shivered, looking up the cliff toward the old cemetery. The church was on the pathway that led to the burial ground. The view from the church was stunning. There was the street, which was part of the National Park Service now, handsome with its ages-old buildings. And there were the rivers, the Shenandoah meeting the Potomac, beautiful blue with little whitecaps as water rushed over rapids. Then there were the mountains stretching onward, the spring greenery of Maryland Heights.

To reach the church from the valley below was easy enough. Some of the original settlers had carved steps right out of the rock. The climb became more difficult once there were no more steps, but the mountain residents were accustomed to climbs. It was the tourists who panted as they walked the trek to Jefferson rock and onward to the cemetery.

But all in all, it was a long climb to reach that cemetery.

“We're so close to where it all happened. Imagine! Someone managed to bring that box up there, dig a big hole, then drag that poor little girl up, and no one even noticed all of it going on!”

It was extraordinary, Julie thought. Especially when they were already into the spring tourist season.

“But it turned out well, at least,” Julie said.

“Are you really a witch?”

Julie started at the softly spoken question that seemed to come from nowhere. She looked down. The little girl with her mother's blue eyes and the beautiful cascade of blond hair was standing right before her.

“A witch?” Julie repeated.

“Well, Uncle Robert said that—”

“Tammy!” Brenda said, distraught.

“Did I say witch?” McCoy asked, his hands on his niece's shoulders, his eyes sizzling as they touched Julie's with no apology whatsoever.

Fine. Julie looked from McCoy to his niece. “I don't cook with toads or snake's eyes or anything like that, if that's what you mean. I'm sorry.”

“But you are a witch in a way, right?” Tammy insisted.

“Well, I think your uncle is convinced that I am,” Julie said sweetly.

“Let me finish the introductions,” McCoy interrupted. Still no apology, but he was suddenly determined not to let it go any further. “This impudent little piece of baggage is Tammy Maitland. And my nephew here is Taylor Maitland. We were on our way to Sunday brunch. Care to join us?”

“Oh, no, I—” Julie began.

“Oh, please!” Tammy insisted.

“I really—”

“Please? I promise, I won't ask you anything more about being a witch!”

Julie gazed at the little girl. What if I told you that your uncle really doesn't like me? That I spent the majority of a night with him and he still didn't believe in a single thing I told him?

“Please, do come,” Brenda insisted. “Of course, I suppose that you have been hounded. Robert was saying that you were lucky you're not an official, and that you could crawl away to that house of yours up in the mountain. The station was just plagued with phone calls from newspapers and the television stations. Fending off the media is worse than coping with the criminals at times, so my brother tells me. We really won't plague you. Yes, we will, but just a little.”

Julie had to laugh. She was surprised then to catch McCoy's silver gaze upon her. And she was startled by the softness of his voice when he bid her a simple, “Come?”

Julie shrugged. “I suppose. Artemis will miss my speedy return.”

“Who's Artemis?” Taylor asked.

Julie widened her eyes. “Artemis? He's my cat. My black cat,” she added, smiling as she looked at McCoy. “My familiar, I believe.”

He groaned. “Shall we go?”

They went. Julie didn't need to speak with McCoy as they walked to their cars because Brenda Maitland managed to keep Julie at her side. “You'll have to forgive my brother. His feelings on this subject are wickedly single-minded. Of course, it is natural, I suppose.” She seemed grave. “After everything that happened.”

Julie's curiosity was instantly piqued. “What happened?” she asked.

But her question came too late. Brenda didn't hear it. She had stopped to look back. “Where's Taylor now?”

“Up here with me,” McCoy called. They had reached the church's small parking lot. “Miss Hatfield, will you ride with us?”

“I have my own car,” Julie said.

“I'll get you back to it.”

She hesitated. He hadn't gotten her back to her car the last time she had seen him. Of course, that hadn't really been his fault. She'd been so mad that she'd stayed with Petty until he'd been able to drive her to her car.

“But I—”

“Come on!” He walked to her. His body blocked her from the others. “You're dangerous on the road, you know.”

“I am not.”

“You should have seen me coming.”

“You should have seen
me
coming.”

“No, Miss Psychic. You should have
seen
me coming!”

“Oh, no, I'm not going through this—”

“Yes, you are. Come on.” He raised his voice. “She's driving with us.”

“Great!” Brenda called, climbing into the back of her brother's Lincoln along with the children.

“I never said—”

“What's the matter, don't you like kids?”

“I like kids just fine. I have problems with adults at times!”

“I won't spill a thing or throw a single pea, I promise,” McCoy vowed gravely.

He was shoving her again. Or dragging her. One or the other. She was nearly in the passenger seat and she hadn't agreed in the least.

But she couldn't disagree, because McCoy was quickly in the driver's seat, and they were already moving. And while they drove, Julie discovered that she hadn't seen Brenda before because McCoy's sister usually attended a little church two towns over.

“Why were you in today?” Julie asked.

“Oh, Robert convinced me. Quite honestly? I wanted to meet you. And Robert said that you'd be there today.”

Julie cast McCoy a quick glance. Petty knew she came to church here almost every Sunday. He could have told McCoy.

But had he?

Julie wondered again at Brenda's comments about her brother—that it was natural for him to feel the way he did about psychics. Why?

The question plagued her, but she couldn't ask it now. Yet as she studied McCoy, she felt a trembling steal over her fingers again. Was he the man in her dream? Her cheeks felt hot as she remembered the dream. It had been so real. She could almost feel the man's body. They had been so close, so intimate. She barely knew McCoy.

His eyes touched hers suddenly. Silver. Sharp. Like blades, they seemed to pierce right through her.

He knew, she thought in a sudden panic. He knew what was going on in her mind!

He couldn't. She tore her eyes from his. He looked at the road. He was smiling.

He hated psychics, he wanted to deny them all. But the way he had just looked at her …

A hot sizzle streaked along her spine. He could deny it, but Julie was absolutely convinced that Robert McCoy had certain powers of his own.

And oh, the things that he could read in her mind!

“Have you always lived here, Miss Hatfield?” Taylor asked.

“Always,” she said softly.

“A Hatfield from the hills!” Brenda said, laughing softly.

“Well, it seems to me that these hills are brimming with McCoys,” Julie returned good-naturedly.

“Yes, I suppose it's true. We have lots of cousins around us. Of course you're the first Hatfield I've ever met,” Brenda said. “Do you think there really was a feud at one time?”

“Think?” McCoy snorted. “I could almost guarantee it—seeing as how we've met a Hatfield now.”

“Whoa!” Brenda protested. “Julie, ignore him!”

“Oh, don't worry about it,” Julie said. “I have it on the highest authority that there was a feud—and that the Hatfields won. So there.”

Brenda laughed softly. Julie felt a silver gaze on her, and she quickly looked down.

Her fingers were trembling again. She could feel the man's warmth as if it touched her.

What is he doing to me? she wondered.

They were barely friends. They were more likely enemies.

She had never wanted anyone more. She felt the tension building in the car between them. Bit by bit. The air didn't seem to touch her. The heat was building. Explosively.

Brenda was talking. About something. Julie couldn't hear her. She suddenly wanted to be alone with McCoy. She wanted to shout at him. She wanted to tell him to leave her alone, to get out of her life.

And if he didn't …

Well, then, he needed to hold her.

No. He needed to make love to her.

The car pulled off the road. They had reached the restaurant in Charlestown.

Julie nearly catapulted from the car. Taylor was emerging behind her, pointing out a place where his Little League team had played the year before, and thankfully, a feeling of normalcy settled over her once again.

She didn't know about McCoy. He had already walked into the restaurant.