The Witch of Stonecliff (6 page)

Sophie answered before the first ring finished. “‘Lo?”

“It’s me.”

“Thank God,” she breathed. “I’ve been worried.”

Again that sharp twist in his gut. “Sorry. I was…” He’d been helping the woman who may have tried to kill him. He settled for, “I was speaking to someone.”

“When you didn’t answer me right away… I think this is a bad idea, Kyle.”

“I’m fine, really. You can’t panic every time I miss a text or a call. I sleep, you know? Shower. Go to the toilet.” He forced his tone to remain light, hoping he could draw a laugh from his little sister.

“I wish you’d never told me what you were up to. You’ve put me in a terrible position. If something happens to you, they’ll blame me.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to me,” he told her with more conviction than he felt. After all, she was his fail-safe, his just in case. And worse, she knew it.

* * *

As soon as Eleri locked her bedroom door behind her, she peeled off her sweater and t-shirt in a single yank over her head. Her skin, cold and clammy, itched as though tiny invisible bugs scurried over her flesh. She tugged off her trousers next, hopping on one foot to the nearest lamp and turning the switch. While she peeled off the rest of her clothes, she made her way to every light in the room until the space glowed brightly. The shadows chased safely to the far corners of the room.

In the en suite, she turned on the shower and waited for the water to heat. Once the bathroom steamed, the spray as hot as she could stand, she stepped into the big iron bathtub.

The nearly scalding water beat at her skin like tiny hot bullets, but Eleri barely noticed. She bent and snatched the soap from the wire basket on the edge of the tub and rubbed it hard over her body, determined to scrub the crawling sensation from her skin.

When her arm tired and her raw skin stung, her knees gave out and she sunk slowly to the bottom of the tub. Kneeling, she tucked her chin to her chest against the spray pelting the top of her head and back. Her ragged breathing sounded in her ears, and the trembling in her muscles eased.

What a bloody mess she was in. She needed to get away from this house, from the village. But she couldn’t. She was trapped like a fly in a spider’s web.

She lifted her leaden arm and turned the tap, shutting off the water. Exhaustion slammed into her like a wrecking ball. She wanted to climb into bed and pretend the day had never happened.

The last thing she wanted was to face Kyle again after he’d witnessed that mess with Paskin. What if he asked questions?

She should skip Hugh’s dinner. It was the butler’s bloody idea, after all. Instead she dragged on a clean pair of gray trousers and a white blouse and returned to the bathroom. She caught sight of her reflection in the mirror behind the sink and frowned. God, she was plain. From dull brown hair, the ends curling and brushing her shoulders, to dull brown eyes, to pale skin, her blouse and trousers as bland as the rest of her.

She couldn’t even change. All her clothes were the same, varying only in color—beige, gray, white. All perfectly practical had she still been serving customers in a flower shop, or when she mucked about in the garden, but nothing for company.

Since when did she care what she wore to dinner? She finished getting ready, and less than fifteen minutes later she was making her way down the hall to the stairs.

As she rounded the last corner in the passageway her gaze caught on the burned-out wall sconce at the top of the stairs. Warlow still hadn’t replaced it. Dark shadows stretched across the corridor like a veil. Eleri slowed, unease prickling along the back of her neck. The smell hit her next. Putrid and rotted, the stink wafted to her nose, filling her nasal cavities, trickling down her throat until she wanted to gag.

Whispered voices filled the air around her. The stench intensified.

Eleri whirled around and started back the way she’d come. She’d use the servants’ stairs again. She couldn’t manage this now. Not after her run-in with Paskin.

Once on the main floor, she hurried down the hall to the parlor, but Hugh’s voice stopped her outside the door. “We’re delighted you could join us tonight, Mr. Peirs. There are few men willing to dine with Eleri just now.”

Her cheeks flamed. Why in the hell would Warlow say something like that?

“I’m not worried,” Kyle replied.

“How strange. Why is that?”

“Even if Ms. James were indeed guilty, with an investigation going on, I should imagine her own self-preservation would keep me safe.”

“But surely you’ve heard the story of the frog and the scorpion? The frog carries the scorpion across the river and the scorpion stings him even though they both will die because the scorpion can’t help what it is.”

Dull fury pulsed behind her eyes. Eleri strode into the room and pinned Warlow with a hard stare. “In your cautionary tale where I’m the scorpion and Kyle the frog you left out yourself; the big, fat toad.”

Warlow let out a long suffering sigh from where he stood before the fireplace. “I meant nothing by it, Eleri. You had concerns about Mr. Peirs’s motivations for staying here while there was a murder investigation in the works. This dinner is to help alleviate those concerns.”

“So the abject humiliation was for my benefit. I should have realized.” Eleri lowered herself to the edge of the settee, half-tempted to sit on her hands to keep from throttling the butler. “You may leave and see to my father now.”

She risked a glance at Kyle. He watched her, a bemused smile curling his lips, lounging in a frayed chair near the fireplace. She suddenly wished she
had
worn something else.

He looked good in dark charcoal trousers, a white shirt untucked—which looked casual rather than sloppy—and navy jacket. His brown hair, a tad too long, was swept back away from his forehead, revealing the long lines of his face, straight nose, slightly pointed chin. Those smoke green eyes stood out bright against the dusky hue of his skin.

He really was an attractive man. The only thing marring all that perfection was the jagged scar at his neck.

“Your father’s resting,” Warlow said, dragging her attention away from Kyle. Probably not a bad thing; she was on the verge of staring. The butler nodded to the hissing baby monitor. “As he’s too ill to join you, he’s asked that I stand in for him while we get to know Mr. Peirs better.”

Of course he would. Warlow had been pulling her father’s strings for as long as she could remember. Even before his illness took root, Arthur James deferred to his butler for nearly every decision. Now that her father was bedridden, was it any wonder Warlow behaved as though he owned the place?

Though, for all she knew, once her father was gone Hugh Warlow might own Stonecliff. She doubted Arthur would leave the estate to either her or her sister. A small flicker or relief lit inside her at the possibility.

“What made you choose our neck of the woods, Mr. Peirs, given the current goings on?” Warlow asked.

Eleri frowned. Something had shifted between yesterday and today. Suspicion laced the butler’s false cheer.

“Money, quite frankly. You’re charging considerably less than other houses I looked at. While I’ve set some money aside for this little sabbatical, without a steady income I need to conserve where I can.”

“Did you quit your last job?” Eleri asked.

He shook his head. “A six month leave to say I gave it a shot.”

“Had you visited the area before?” Warlow’s chilly gaze was in complete contrast to the wide smile stretched across his face.

Kyle pinned him with an icy stare all his own. “Never.”

Eleri’s gaze shifted between the two men, the tension in the air thickening. Was Kyle lying? Had he been to Cragera Bay before, and did Warlow know him somehow?

“I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but that must have been a terrible injury to your neck.”

The younger man’s eyes narrowed, features hardening.

“Hugh!” Eleri snapped. She couldn’t believe how rudely he was behaving. Normally, he was a model of decorum. Pompous and condescending, but always well mannered.

“It was,” Kyle agreed.

“I’m sorry if I appear rude,” Warlow said.

“
If?
” Eleri cut in.

Warlow shot her an impatient glare. “Eleri was concerned that such an injury indicated ties to a criminal past.”

Her eyes rounded. Her face burned. Kyle swung his gaze to hers, one corner of his mouth curling up in a smirk. “Really?”

“No.” She shook her head. “That’s not true.”

“That’s exactly what you said.” Warlow’s white brows pulled into a frown, his voice annoyingly patient. “We want to ease your concerns about his character.”

“You had doubts about
my
character based on this?” Kyle traced a finger over the ridge of scar tissue.

Why couldn’t the floor open up and swallow her? “He’s taking what I said out of context. I meant that he didn’t know anything about you, that you
could
have had criminal ties.”

That didn’t sound any better.

Kyle let out a dry chuckle and lifted his right hand as if swearing an oath. “I promise this isn’t the result of any criminal activity on my part. Does that set your mind at ease?”

Not really. The best way to set her mind at ease would be to stop talking about it.

“What sort of accident, if you don’t mind me asking?” Warlow said.

Kyle stared at the man for a long moment before finally replying, “Traffic collision.”

“Did the recovery take long?”

“Yes.”

“I’m so sorry for what you must have gone through. Where about was the accident?”

“Outside London. Were you hoping to gather enough clues to verify my story? Do you need the date, the hour of the accident? Perhaps a look at my medical records?

Warlow turned his attention to her and asked, “Eleri?”

There wasn’t a hole big enough for her to crawl into. She shook her head.

A part of her wanted to blurt out that she had nothing to do with Warlow’s probing, but she
had
suspected him of a criminal past. So when had her opinion changed? When he came to her rescue with Steven Paskin?

“I’m sorry,” she told him.

His light green eyes held hers. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for.”

The low rasp of his voice shivered along her skin and a thin flutter tickled low in her belly. She frowned and dropped her gaze to the floor. What was that about? But she already knew. She found him attractive. Desirable. And that was dangerous for them both.

Look how things had turned out for Griffin.

“Dinner has been set in the dining room.” Mrs. Voyle’s sharp voice cut through the tension like a jagged blade. She stood in the doorway, buttoning her coat. “You’ll need to come straight away if you want your dinner hot.”

Hugh stood, genial grin fixed firmly in place. “I must see to Mr. James, so I’ll leave you to dine without me. Thank you for indulging us, Mr. Peirs.”

Kyle jerked a shoulder, his impassive features impossible to read. “Of course.”

Outside the parlor, Warlow started up the stairs, and Eleri and Kyle followed Mrs. Voyle down the hall.

“You’ll have to serve yourselves,” Mrs. Voyle said, as Eleri and Kyle entered the dining room. “I’ve already stayed later than I prefer. And you’ll need to tidy up yourself. I won’t wait.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Voyle,” Eleri ground out. If by some unfortunate twist of fate her father should leave Stonecliff to her, after all, Eleri’s first order of business would be to fire the woman.

Mrs. Voyle hurried away, and Eleri led Kyle to the plates stacked at one end of the sideboard. “I should apologize in advance for Mrs. Voyle’s cooking. Whatever threat you were willing to face by letting the lodge, I’m afraid you may have increased it considerably by agreeing to eat here.”

She glanced back over her shoulder with a smirk, but the expression dissolved quickly. Kyle stared down at the domed platters, his normally olive skin pale, expression shuttered.

Of course, he wouldn’t find the crack amusing—especially coming from her. “I was kidding.”

His gaze met hers and he smiled but it looked forced. “If you’re willing to eat it, I’m sure I’ll be safe enough.”

Eleri lifted the silver dome off the first platter, and let out a soft sigh. Ah yes, Mrs. Voyle’s infamous gray roast beef. No doubt they would have the woman’s lumpy potatoes and mushy vegetables to look forward to. And of course, her sludge gravy. She forked a slice of meat onto her plate. “I wouldn’t bet on it.”

“I’m just pleased to be invited for a meal. Saves me from having to cook something.”

“Are you certain this is better?”

He met her gaze. “There’s the company, as well.”

Warm flush tingled over her skin. Was he flirting with her?

What a lot of nonsense. As if he’d be interested in the likes of her. He was attractive, successful, sexy. He could no doubt do better than a short, plain woman under investigation for murdering men just like him.

With dinner on their plates, they sat at the large table facing each other.

“I’m sorry about Hugh,” Eleri said, smoothing her napkin over her lap. “It was wrong of him to pry the way he did.”

“I should imagine letting your house to a complete stranger is disconcerting.”

Eleri used her fork to squash the larger lumps in her potatoes. “I can’t imagine anyone choosing to stay here if they had somewhere else to go. And when Warlow said you were a writer, I worried that you might be after a story. I haven’t had great experiences with reporters.”

The jagged scar curling across Kyle’s throat bobbed. “How do you mean?”

“A few years back, a man who worked for us vanished. Despite indications that he’d simply moved on, his family was certain he’d met with foul play.”

“What sort of
indications
?”

“His belongings were gone from the coach house and his car had gone. There was no evidence that the man hadn’t just moved. When his family lost faith in the police, they went to the media. One reporter in particular wrote a series of articles, none of them true. He filled the articles with gossip and rumors. He was actually the one to come up with the name
The Witch of Stonecliff
. Life in the village quickly became unbearable. I left first chance I got.”