The Perfect Bride (8 page)

She released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, feeling strangely deflated even before she let it out. That wasn’t what she’d thought was about to happen. She’d thought he’d
been about to...

Kiss her. That’s what she’d thought. That’s what every female instinct she had said was coming.

What every deep-seated impulse had been wanting.

Which was crazy.

It was the last thing he should want to do, the last thing she should want him to.

So why did she feel so disappointed?

Jillian stared after him, contemplating the mystery that was Adam Sutton,
even though he’d long since vanished from sight. He could be so harsh, so cold. But only when his sister was involved, she acknowledged. Only when it came to his family being threatened.

A man who cared that much about his sister that he would give up his career to take on something she wanted to do couldn’t be all bad, could he?

She suddenly wanted more than anything for the answer
to be no, even as part of her wondered if she had even less of a reason to trust him.

Was there a reason he was so protective of his sister? Emma had told her a lot about the staff at Sutton Hall, but Jillian still knew little about the Suttons themselves. If Meredith had been involved in Courtney’s death, Jillian didn’t doubt for a second Adam would do whatever he had to in order to protect
her.

It had been Meredith’s decision to put Courtney in that room, Jillian thought, tucking away that piece of information. It made sense, and she’d suspected as much, but it was good to know for sure. Now she just had to figure out if it meant anything.

Exhaling deeply, she fought the urge to press a hand to her throbbing head. All these doubts and suspicions about everyone here were
exhausting. She wished there was someone she could confide in, someone she could trust....

Wished it was him...

Jillian shook off the ridiculous thought. She’d known what she was signing up for when she decided to come here. She had to keep on her guard against everyone here, no matter how wearing it was on her.

Especially the ones who might be interfering with her instincts in
different ways.

Even as the thought passed through her mind, she felt a prickling at the nape of her neck, an entirely different instinct kicking in. She recognized the sensation, the feeling undeniable.

She was being watched.

Curious, she turned and peered up at the building.

The multitude of windows stared back at her, some of them blazing with light, some gaping with emptiness.
She didn’t spot anyone in any of them looking back at her.

Unease creeping along her skin, she glanced around the area. Her unseen watcher didn’t have to be in the house. Whoever it was could be somewhere out here.

She saw nothing in the long shadows surrounding the edge of the driveway and the ends of the house, heard nothing but the faint whisper of the leaves in the trees, stirred
by the night wind.

Felt the intensity of that unseen gaze boring into her, as strongly as if it were physically touching her. And there was nothing remotely friendly in the feeling.

Whoever it was, she clearly wasn’t going to spot them. And she suddenly knew without a doubt that they didn’t want to be seen.

Trying her best not to show her unease, even as the sensation of being watched
weighed down on her more than ever, she started for the door to the house. Once she was inside, she should be out of the watcher’s sight. Not to mention she needed to call the rental company about her car. Hopefully they’d be able to repair it, or bring her a replacement. Without the vehicle, she was effectively trapped here, on her own.

In a place that was rapidly feeling more dangerous
to her by the moment.

* * *

N
ARROWED
EYES
FOLLOWED
Jillian Jones’s retreat into the house until she disappeared from view. Before she did, she glanced around herself one more time, at the house, at the outside area.

She knew someone was watching her, had been trying to see who it was.

She didn’t know it was too late. The scene that had damned her had already been witnessed.

Revulsion churned at the memory—and what it meant.

Somehow she’d come back with Adam, even though they’d left for town separately. They’d been alone together in his car—at least as long as the ride back. Maybe even longer...

However long it had been, something seemed to have happened between them. That moment they’d shared after climbing out of the car was entirely too intimate for
two people with nothing going on between them.

The way he’d stood there, just a little closer than was normal, staring down at her, saying nothing...

The way she’d looked up at him. With intensity. With interest.

With lust.

The sexual attraction between them was undeniable, obvious even from a distance.

And disgusting from any angle.

A woman who was getting married
had no business standing that close to a man who wasn’t her husband-to-be, not like that, not for that long. She should have stepped away, made it clear it wasn’t appropriate, that she wasn’t interested.

But she hadn’t.

Jillian Jones was another one, a slut who had no right to put on that white dress, to take vows she didn’t mean, just like the other woman.

She would have to be
stopped, too.

Chapter Seven

“Oh, Jillian, I forgot to ask. What did you think of Hawthorne?”

Jillian glanced up from her plate to find Meredith smiling at her from across the dining room table. From the moment Rosie had served the meal, Meredith had been making a valiant attempt to keep a conversation going. No easy feat since she and Jillian were the only ones speaking.

Adam sat at
the head of the table to Jillian’s right. Ever since he’d entered the room he’d mostly avoided looking at her. Every once in a while she’d sensed him glance in her direction, the feeling of his gaze now familiar, his focus hard and intense. She’d studiously avoided looking at him, either, the memory of their encounter in the driveway too fresh. And after a moment he’d look away.

“It’s lovely,”
she said in answer to Meredith’s question. “Even smaller than I realized but really pretty and charming.”

“I know it’s small and less geared to visitors than a lot of towns in the area,” Meredith said. “But if you want to explore further or think your guests would, there are plenty of other nearby towns and places to see within driving distance I could point you toward.”

“Well, I’m glad
I had a chance to explore it, but I’ll probably stick a little closer to Sutton Hall the rest of my time here.”

“Especially since your rental car seems to have broken down,” Adam observed.

It was the first time he’d spoken since they’d sat down for dinner. The sound of his voice sent an unexpected frisson of shock through her. His tone was mild, but the words sounded vaguely insinuating.
As though he thought she’d done something to disable the car.

She forced the sweetest smile she could manage. “Fortunately they already brought a replacement.”

“So you could leave anytime you like,” he said slowly.

“If I wanted to. I just don’t think I’ll see the need.”

“And you never know when something else might happen to the new car.”

“Why would it?” she challenged
him.

His lips curved slowly, the smile looking more like a smirk. “I can’t imagine.”

“What did the rental company say when they picked up the car?” Meredith interjected, shooting her brother a look.

“They couldn’t immediately tell what was wrong with it, but they’re going to check it out.”

“Good. Well, I’m glad they were able to take care of it so quickly. And that Adam came
along when he did so you weren’t stranded out there,” Meredith added after a beat.

Jillian figured she was better off not commenting on that. Adam didn’t, either, lowering his gaze to his plate.

Trying to put him out of her mind for the moment, Jillian turned her attention to the fourth person at the table. Grace sat to Meredith’s right, giving Jillian a prime view of the woman. Jillian
had been mildly curious about the fact that the housekeeper had eaten dinner with them the night before, when none of the rest of the staff had. Rosie had served the meal, with Ed helping her, as they did tonight. Ray and Zack were nowhere to be found, presumably handling their own dinner arrangements. That just left Grace.

Last night she’d chimed in to the discussion, describing some of
the features of the house as they talked about the wedding plans. Tonight, though, she seemed to have little to say. Of course, given the tension hanging over the meal, she might just think it was better to keep her mouth shut.

The woman certainly didn’t act like a housekeeper. Sitting stiffly in her chair, her head held high, she had the regal bearing of a queen. Jillian almost thought she
looked as though she belonged at the head of the table.

Given a few of the looks Jillian caught her slipping Adam, she wouldn’t have been surprised if Grace thought so, too.

“So, Grace,” Jillian said as casually as possible. “I think Meredith said you’ve been here for almost thirty years?”

The housekeeper nodded, meeting Jillian’s eyes with a small, polite smile. “Yes, that’s right.”

“So you must have known Kathleen Sutton.”

“Mrs. Sutton is the one who hired me. I came here when she did.”

“Oh, really?” Jillian said as if she didn’t know. “Where are you from originally?”

For the first time, Grace hesitated, the pause long enough to be noticeable. “Philadelphia,” she said.

Jillian wondered about her reluctance. Was it that she simply didn’t want to share
anything personal, or was there something particular about that piece of information? “Is that where Mrs. Sutton was from, too?”

“Yes.” Grace quickly turned her attention back to her plate.

“I’d love to hear more about her and Jacob. His love for her is so inspiring. It would be great to find out more about them as a couple.”

Jillian almost wondered if she imagined the way Grace
seemed to tense, the reaction so slight it was nearly imperceptible. “They loved each other very much. They were very happy here.”

“What was she like?”

Grace appeared to consider the question. “She was very kind,” she finally said, her voice softening in a way Jillian had never heard before. “Quite beautiful as you could see from the portrait in the main hall. Generous. Well liked. Well
loved. And, I suppose...irreplaceable, really.”

It was a strange choice of words, especially toward someone who’d been her employer.
Irreplaceable.
It almost seemed to indicate attempts had been made to replace her and come up short.

Studying the woman’s downcast eyes, it occurred to Jillian that, as the head of the household, Grace herself had essentially been Kathleen Sutton’s replacement.
In every way but one.

And that was when Jillian knew.

Grace had loved Jacob Sutton.

Her choice of that word and the way she said it told Jillian everything she needed to know. It made sense. Grace had stayed here for thirty years in this isolated location, taking care of him, never leaving to have a family or life of her own away from here, away from him. Loyalty to her employer
could only explain so much.

Jillian remembered the way Grace had been staring at the portrait of Jacob Sutton yesterday. Was that the reason for the look on her face, because she’d been in love with him? If it was true, it would seem her affections hadn’t been returned, especially if Jacob had spent his final years sitting on that balcony, thinking about his late wife.

A Sutton man loves
forever.

Maybe a romantic sentiment to some. But not for someone in love with a Sutton man who would forever love someone else.

“What about you?” Jillian asked. “Do you have any family?”

“No,” Grace said flatly.

“Thirty years is a long time. You never wanted to live anywhere else? Try a different job?”
Love someone else, especially since Jacob Sutton was gone?

Grace lifted
her head. Her face never shifted, the slight, enigmatic smile still on her lips, her expression as cool and composed as ever. No one else in the room would have seen the change. Only Jillian, who was staring directly into Grace’s eyes, could have seen the hardness that entered her stare as Grace looked back at her with a sudden coldness that chilled her to the bone. “This is my home.”

“And
we’re glad to have her,” Meredith said finally into the silence that followed.

“Of course you are,” Jillian said. “I’m sorry,” she told Grace. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

The woman smiled thinly, meeting Jillian’s eyes with a look that said she knew perfectly well that was exactly what Jillian had been doing.

The door to the kitchen suddenly swung open, and Rosie emerged, carrying a
tray with four bowls on it. Ed followed close behind her. “Who’s ready for dessert?”

“I’m not sure any of us have room after that meal,” Meredith said with a smile. “Rosie, you outdid yourself.”

Rosie practically glowed at the praise. “Well, no meal is truly finished without dessert, so you’d better have room. I made a nice rice pudding.”

The husband-and-wife team began moving around
the table, Ed taking the used plates and utensils and placing them on the tray he carried, Rosie following closely behind and setting a bowl and clean spoon in front of each of them.

“I do apologize, though,” Rosie said. “I was going to bake a cake, but Ed didn’t come back from town with the sugar I asked for.”

“I’m afraid I forgot,” Ed said lightly, a hint of sheepishness in his voice
as he took Jillian’s plate.

“Even though I gave you a list so you wouldn’t,” Rosie returned.

“It’s fine,” Jillian said quickly. “It’s been a long time since I had pudding. It’s a nice change of pace.”

“Sad to say, it’s from a mix,” Rosie said with a sniff of disdain. “But sometimes we just have to make do with what we have.”

“It’s not a problem,” Meredith said. “I’m sure this
is great, and Jillian will be eating plenty of cake soon enough. Right, Jillian?”

“Right,” Jillian said, forcing a chuckle.

Rosie placed a bowl and a fresh spoon in front of her. Jillian automatically picked up the spoon. As she raised it to the bowl, she glanced up and across the table.

Grace was watching her, her gaze intense and unwavering. Jillian nearly shivered.

As soon
as Jillian’s eyes met hers, Grace smiled thinly again before lowering her gaze to her bowl.

Jillian continued to stare at the woman for a moment, considering what lay behind that placid exterior and cold stare.

This is my home,
Jillian heard in the back of her mind.

And she suddenly wondered exactly what Grace would do if there was someone in her home she didn’t want here.

* * *

B
Y
THE
TIME
Jillian made it back to her room a few hours after dinner, she was ready to turn in early. Even if she hadn’t gotten little sleep the night before, the endless day had left her exhausted. Barely able to keep her eyes open as she prepared for bed, she locked the door of the suite, blocking out the rest of Sutton Hall and its inhabitants, and eagerly climbed beneath the covers.
Her head had barely hit the pillow before she was asleep.

She couldn’t escape Sutton Hall even in her dreams. It rose up in her mind, even more beautiful and unsettling, lush and grim, than it was in real life.

She dreamed she was wandering its halls, the corridors long and unending, thick with shadows. They seemed to go on forever, and no matter where she turned she couldn’t escape
them. Emma’s words seemed to fill the air, echoing all around her.

Be careful....

Watch out for yourself....

Just in case...

She dreamed of Courtney, dressed in her wedding gown, begging her for help. She floated backward down the shadowy halls, as though being dragged away by unseen hands. All the while, she reached out to Jillian, her arms outstretched, her face contorted
in terror, her mouth open in a silent scream. Jillian tried to go to her, but Courtney drifted down the halls away from her, always out of reach, her eyes bright with fear—and what seemed to Jillian was a hint of betrayal. Until finally she disappeared entirely, leaving Jillian chasing after nothing.

She dreamed of Meredith and Grace, of Rosie and Ed, of Ray and Zack. As she wandered down
the dark, endless hallways, she passed them, again and again. They were always watching her silently, their expressions intense and unreadable, their eyes following her wherever she went. She tried to run, to escape them, through the never-ending maze of halls. But no matter where she turned, they were there, their faces growing darker, more sinister with every glimpse. She ran faster, harder, desperate
to get away from them, until she ran straight into—

Adam Sutton, the lights from the house shining down on one side of his face, leaving the other shrouded in darkness.

He didn’t touch her, didn’t say anything. He simply stood there, looking down at her.

She stared up into that compelling face, the expression on it as cool and remote as ever, searching those impenetrable eyes for
any hint of what he was thinking. The longer she looked, the less it seemed that she saw. Instead it felt as if she was losing herself, falling hopelessly into his mysterious gaze. Her heart pounding, her lungs tightening, she tried to look away, only to find she couldn’t. She could only stare into those bottomless eyes that revealed nothing. They seemed to consume her, pulling the very life out
of her, the feeling overpowering. It was almost as though she was choking, suffocating, completely unable to breathe. And all the while he simply stood there, watching her, as her terror climbed higher and higher.

Her preservation instinct kicked in, and she realized this was only a dream. She could wake up. She needed to—

Wake up!

The image of him vanished. She stared into blackness,
unable to see anything. But still she couldn’t breathe. The feeling was worse than ever, the darkness absolute, her lungs clutching, screaming for air—

Wake up!

And then somewhere in the panicked recesses of her mind it hit her. She
was
awake. Her eyes were wide open. She just couldn’t see anything. She could feel the mattress beneath her, the sheets around her, far more sharply than
she had in the dream.

This wasn’t a dream. It was real. She
was
choking, suffocating. Something was on her face, pressing down, cutting off the air.

The pillow. The pillow was over her face.

She threw out her hands, clawing at whatever was forcing the pillow down. Her fingers made contact, gripping whatever they encountered.

Wrists. Arms. They began to thrash, resist, as hard
as she was. The pressure on her face increased.

A person. It was a person. Someone was holding the pillow down, trying to suffocate her, trying to
kill
her.

She fought harder, even as she felt her body weakening from the lack of air, her lungs seizing, her limbs tensing—

She lashed out with her arms and legs, her hands beating against the ones holding the pillow, her feet flailing
to make contact with any part of the attacker. She threw her full weight from side to side, twisting her neck, trying to break away from the pillow just enough for one precious breath of air.