Marie Harte - RetroCog

Growing up labeled the neighborhood mental case hadn’t helped her attract many friends. Even after she’d suppressed those ghostly voices, when she’d finally convinced herself they’d gone for good, she was never quite sure. Leaving home had been painful because she loved her family, but she’d wanted to leave behind her freakish past to start fresh. Away from home, she’d focused on her future. A degree in hotel management, internships, learning and adding to her experience while striving to attain a new goal. She’d found success and a new beginning.

She’d drifted from place to place until Brownville. The Lady Fine Inn had intrigued her from the first. Ida planned to sell it in a few years, and the place provided Lara with the opportunity to run it from the ground up. An artsy town, nice friends, and even a few attractive, single men who acted interested. All of it made for a bright future.

If she bought the inn, her business would flourish with the incoming tourists. Especially with the town’s fascinating history centered on the infamous love affair between a bank robber and a madam. Her first night in the hotel had been incredible. She hadn’t heard one ghostly voice during her stay. Ida had hired her on the spot. She’d made a true friend in Frank and learned to like the small, artsy town.

Just when she’d thought she’d put the literal ghosts of her past to bed, she’d heard the voice. Proof she’d never be normal. But here in Brownville, she might just fit in. The artistic bunch liked quirkiness. And the voice that spoke to Lara was naughty but not cruel, and gone as much as she was there. Lara had started to think she could make a go of things. She’d be known as a successful business woman, not a crazy lady who thought she heard voices.

Then Noah had to show up, asking her if she was psychic. The beginning of the end. No, no, and no.

She wondered what he might really be after and intended to Google the name Emilio Vala. She knew little about art, but if this artist existed, he’d be on the Internet.

Lara hugged herself, shivering despite the temperate breeze, aware of the strange emptiness of the street. A sudden urgency to return to the inn hit her, and whether she could attribute that to the voice or her own odd instinct, she didn’t much care. She hastened her step. As she raced past the last alleyway before the inn came into view, a hand reached out to grab her.

She shrieked and ran to the Lady Fine, unsure if her imagination played tricks with her or if someone really had been there. On days like these, she wondered if she’d finally gone around the bend. It seemed like no matter how much she tried, she couldn’t outrace misfortune.

Entering the inn, she noticed the thinning crowd. Thank God for small favors.

“Lara, you okay?” Frank took her coat from her. “You look weird.” His eyes narrowed. “Mr. Sexy, he do something to you?”

“Not a thing. And keep your voice down.” She tugged him aside for privacy. “I need you to do me a favor.”

“Anything, honey. You know that.” Frank kissed her on the nose, and she hugged him, glad for the friendship they shared.

“There’s something strange with Noah.” She told Frank about the painting and her likeness to it, but when she mentioned Emilio Vala, he started.

“Emilio Vala is real. He was a genius with portraits. A skilled artisan known for his work even back in the mid-nineteenth century. You’re saying Noah showed you one of Vala’s portraits? That thing would have to be worth a lot of money.” Excitement colored his words. “Think what we could do with the cash.”

“Frank, focus. The painting was stolen.”

“According to Noah. What do we really know about him?”

“Good point.” She chewed her lower lip. “You research Vala. And see what you can find about Lady Fine. I’m starting to wonder if the painting might be of her. Odd coincidence it’s here in town and looks just like Finn’s descriptions, not to mention me.”

“You could be a direct descendant, because what are the odds you’d look exactly like her or that you’d move here, of all places, to manage her old bordello, now a profitable bed-and-breakfast?”

“Inn,” she corrected, preferring the loftier term.

Frank rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Okay, I’m out of here. I’ll get to work on Vala.”

“I’ll check out Noah.”

“I’ll just bet you will.”

Frank made a few more lewd comments, teasing her mercilessly. His banter eased the panic that had been building inside, and she relaxed in the comfort of being home.

Then Noah returned to the inn, glanced her way, and continued up the stairs to his room.

Frank had made a suggestion that haunted her well into the night. “Why not seduce the truth out of him? Use those luscious lips to make him beg, then get him to fess up? Between that rack and that ass, he’ll be dying to tell you everything he knows.”

She didn’t like the temptation to say yes to everything. And that bothered her more than the damn voices.

He watched her walk down the corridor to the room in the back. Lara’s private quarters. While the rest of the guests were free to retire to their rooms for the night, Lara relaxed in the back, always prepared to help if needed. Just one call would have her up and moving to assist a guest.

He liked that about her. Her willingness, the sweet submission she tried so hard to hide but couldn’t. Not from him. He’d known it the moment he’d first seen her. The moment he’d known he had to have her.

Leaving her, though he wanted to stay, he felt safe in the knowledge that she wouldn’t sleep with the new guy. Not yet. Lara liked to think of herself as progressive, but she had an old-fashioned sense when it came to men. He’d seen her attraction to the bastard, the wary looks and subtle body language. He didn’t like it. But he had something else to attend to.

After driving back to the house, he quietly entered through the front door and walked to the attic. There, in the center of the room, he lit the candles that gave off the perfect light to illuminate his future. The gilt frame, the curled edges of craftsmanship that no one these days could match. All of it centered on perfection. No monetary value could match what the painting promised, what it pointed to.

The dark brown eyes promising forever. The sultry lips beckoning for a kiss. The timeless portrait of femininity just waiting to be tamed by the right man…

A noise downstairs reminded him he’d left company waiting.

He leaned close to the frame, softly caressed the oiled canvas, and knew the time had finally arrived.

He left the attic as quietly as he’d arrived. Downstairs in his bedroom, he joined his new girlfriend. “Now, sweetheart. Don’t be so hasty. We have all night. And then some.”

She squirmed and tugged at her restraints, no doubt chafing at the need to touch him again. She liked to pretend to discourage him, in order to arouse him. And it worked, but only because she had the look. Dark hair, dark eyes. Large breasts and a bountiful ass. Such a narrow waist made prettier by the bruising lash of his crop.

The tears sparkling on her cheeks were a nice touch but not necessary.

“So eager, aren’t you, my love?” he crooned and removed his clothing.

He wanted to hear her, but he knew from experience that her screeching was a pitch higher than it should have been, and it ruined the mood. So he left the gag on.

He leaned closer. “I’m here, and it’s time.” A soft stroke over her hair, a bit coarser than the feel of Lara’s earlier, when she’d raced past him in the dark. “Soon, Cecilia. Soon we’ll be together again. But for tonight, a small sample of our pleasure, hmm?”