Dawn Brown - The Devil's Eye

“You had no idea Eleri had contacted her sister?” Warlow’s piercing blue stare bored into him. “Why were you at the pub this afternoon?”

Was the man actually trying to catch him in a lie? Funny, Reece had been at the pub for nefarious reasons, just not the ones Warlow assumed. “I was desperate for something edible for my dinner.”

“Ah, well, no one could fault you for that, my boy.”

Reece stiffened beneath the weight of the butler’s patronizing tone.

“A word of warning, though. The Paskins have a long, angry history with this family. You may want to keep that in mind the next time you visit The Iron Kettle.”

Well, considering Eleri had likely murdered their son, one could hardly blame them for holding a grudge. “I really should take Ms. James her cases.”

“A little longer, please.” Warlow waved Reece back into his seat when he started to stand. Good God, would the man never shut up? “I’m going to be honest with you. I’m very concerned about this visit affecting Mr. James’s health. Did the girl tell you anything about why she’s come?”

Irrational irritation prickled the back of Reece’s neck. She has a name. “No.”

Though, her turning up now with her father so ill, Mrs. Voyle probably hadn’t been far off the mark. Not that he was in any position to judge. The things he’d done for money didn’t leave much room to be self-righteous.

“Did she tell you why Eleri contacted her?” Warlow pushed.

Ask her your bloody self if you want to know so badly. “We weren’t in the car long, and didn’t have a lot to say to each other.”

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t.” The man’s smile dimmed and he nodded almost to himself, then those light eyes fixed on Reece once more. “What did you think of her?”

A bloody nosy neurotic. Instead, he shrugged. “I didn’t think anything of her.”

Warlow chuckled. Only the barely visible narrowing of his eyes hinted at his annoyance. “You formed no opinion?”

He could tell the butler about her panic attack, her fear of water. Reece met the man’s hungry gaze, and a surge of distaste curdled his insides. Hugh Warlow could dig up his own dirt. “Like I said, we didn’t have a lot to say to each other.”

He glanced at the clock over the stove. Ten minutes to six. He’d never make it back to the pub in time. He was well and truly fucked now.

The telltale hiss of Mrs. Voyle’s skirt announced her arrival just before she stormed into the room, dark eyes glinting like onyx.

“Now, I’m to serve Her Highness dinner in her room,” the housekeeper fumed, shooting Warlow a pointed stare. “Familiar days, I tell you.”

Reece saw his chance for escape and jumped at it. He scrambled from his chair and gathered Brynn’s cases. “I should take these up.”

“Yes, of course. One more thing, Mr. Conway.”

Reece lifted his head and Warlow flashed a smile nearly as white as his hair.

“I realize you’ve only been with us a few weeks, but I’m extremely pleased with you so far. There could be a real future here for someone loyal.”

Reece nodded despite the slick knots tightening his insides. A future in this house? Were that the case he’d stick his head in the oven and get it over with now. Besides, he knew the sort of loyalty Hugh Warlow was looking for. Reece was already spying for one son of a bitch. He had no desire to make it two.

* * *

Brynn stared out the window, but only her watery reflection in the glass was visible against the black sky. She couldn’t see the ocean in the darkness, but given the relentless hush of the surf beating the shore, her room no doubt overlooked those endless waves. She shivered. For a moment, images of the ground beneath the house shifting, all this stone and wood tipping forward and sliding down the cliff into the icy waters below filled her head.

Her heart rate quickened and Brynn grasped the fireplace mantle next to the window to steady herself.

She’d just keep the drapes closed during her stay.

Or maybe she should just head back to the airport. Hop on the first flight home. And go back to what? Her grandparents’ empty house? Her career swirling down the toilet? Her life was a mess. If everything had been going great, she probably wouldn’t have made this trip to begin with.

She thought of her mother’s letters tucked away in her purse. No, even if Zack hadn’t knocked up the CEO’s secretary at the company where they both worked, and she hadn’t been given a transfer to a tiny subsidiary instead of the promotion she’d been promised before her personal life had become fodder for gossip, she would have made this trip.

Even knowing her father didn’t want her here, after all.

A lump thickened in her throat, a faint tingle tickling the back of her nose. She was just tired. She drew a trembling breath and let it out slowly. After a decent night’s sleep, she’d be back to her old self.

Eleri had been partially right about why Brynn had come. She did want to know about this place and the people she came from, but more than that she wanted to know what had frightened her mother so much she’d turned Brynn over to her grandparents.

Had her grandparents known? Is that why they’d never told her about this place, her father, her sister, why they’d even kept her mother’s letters from her?

Brynn turned away from the window and flopped back onto the huge bed on the opposite side of the room, sinking into the soft covers and staring up at the wooden frame holding the canopy. She desperately wanted to crawl under the blankets, but Reece still hadn’t shown up with her suitcase. Maybe she hadn’t been far off imagining him mugging tourists.

Eleri had gone looking for him, and if her narrowed eyes and tight mouth were any indication, the man should hope she didn’t find him.

A light tap on the open door and Brynn pushed up on her elbows. Reece stood just inside the threshold with her cases, those sea-blue eyes locked on her, his expression inscrutable. Dull warmth lit inside her and tingled into her limbs.

She dropped her gaze and scrambled off the bed.

“Sorry if I kept you waiting. I was held up,” he muttered, stalking across the room.

“Oh…you didn’t…it’s just…Eleri’s looking for you.” Why was she stammering like an idiot? But she already knew the answer. Something about the sight of him, his dark hair pushed back from those hard features—her thumb itched to trace that sharp ridge of cheekbone—he looked good, primal.

She was tired, had a bad day. Her imagination was getting the better of her.

“Wonderful.” He dropped her cases before the wardrobe with a thud, turned and started for the door, but stopped, his attention shifting to the fireplace facing the sofa. “I’ll get a fire started for you.”

“Thanks. That’s nice of you.”

He jerked his shoulder. “Save myself a trip later.”

There, exactly what she needed to hear to put the world back in perspective. She bit her lip to keep from smiling, grabbed her suitcase and hoisted it onto the bed. Once he was gone, she was going to sleep and when she woke up, things would make sense again. She unzipped the flap and dug through her neatly folded clothes for the T-shirt and shorts she slept in.

The flue clunked open and Brynn looked up. While Reece had twisted to reach into the chimney, his shirt had lifted slightly revealing a hard band of flat stomach. Nice.

A sharp rap sounded on her door and Brynn started. Sour-faced Mrs. Voyle stood in the opening holding a large tray with both hands.

What had she knocked with? Her forehead?

“I have your dinner.” The older woman set the tray on the table between the settee and fireplace. Her narrowed gaze fixed on Reece. “What are you doing in here?”