Dawn Brown - The Witch Of Stonecliff

“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.”