by Ginny Lynn
Hearing steps on the creaky wood floor reminded me I was not alone in the room I had been concentrating on.
“As you can see, many upgrades have been made to improve comfort and carefully mixed with the vintage style of the house. This is the only bedroom on this floor with its own bathroom that’s why I chose it for you.”
Why did it seem so intimate for this man to pick out what he thought would fit my needs? A blush warmed my cheeks as I gazed at his face while the thought sank in. A sudden flare of pain shot across the webbing between my right thumb and finger distracting me. Biting my lip, I quickly put the candle down on the closest hard surface and brought my hand up to see what I had done to it. Kenrick was suddenly next to me and took my hand in his as he used the light from the tall hurricane lamp to have a closer look.
“Be still for a moment, you have wax cooling against your skin. I’ll peel it off,” he stated softly before I could even protest.
Delicately, he used the edge of a fingernail to slip the cream drop of wax away from my tender hand.
“There doesn’t seem to be a blister forming but let’s rinse it under some cool water to make sure.” He began walking me toward the bathroom and its décor of matching green tones with white and black accents.
My sense of smell picked up the subtle scent of the well water just before he gently dunked my hand under the cold stream from the ornate faucet. Seeing a flash in my peripheral vision, I quickly glanced up to see amber eyes in the small framed mirror in front of me. Swiveling my head to the right, I was so close to Kenrick that it became clear it was his eyes staring at me in the gilt-edged glass.
“Your freckles are adorable,” he said to me as we huddled so close.
“Um, thanks,” was all I could manage.
“There must be something you have to say because you keep staring at me,” he prompted.
“I’m sorry. That was rude of me.” I averted my eyes back to the slight pink tint which just happened to form the shape of a heart on my hand.
“A heart?” I whispered.
“Yes, I have one,” he answered with a quirk to the corner of his mouth.
“Pardon me?”
“You were wondering if I had a heart and I do,” he explained, as the grin grew cocky.
I scoffed at him. “Well, of course you do.”
Shrugging his shoulders, his face inched closer to mine. “What else do you want to know?”
With that, I noticed my hand felt warmer in his grip, and it wasn’t even cooled by the tap water. Staring into his eyes, I had no idea what to say. When his thumb caressed my wet one, I shivered. “I think it’s okay to take it out of the water now.”
No emotion came across his face as he replied, “It can stand a moment more.”
“I’m fine, Kenrick.”
“Yes, you are.”
The blush returned and he was close enough to see it this time. What if he tried to kiss me? How would it feel to have those luscious lips on mine, if even for a brief second? Why the hell had I even thought that? Awkwardly, I jerked myself out of his hold and away from the temptation which had slithered into me. “Not even knowing you, I find you’re an exasperating flirt. Are you normally like this?”
“No one usually insults me to my face.” A light entered his eyes.
“Well, there’s a first time for everything.” I couldn’t fight the smile taking the place of my frown. “I’m tired. Is there anything else that needs handled while we wait for Mr. White?”
“Unless you need a particular thing handled, then I’ll just offer to show you the grounds in the light of day tomorrow.”
“I appreciate the offer but I don’t want to take you away from any duties you need to perform.” It came out as more concerned than with the bite I had intended it to carry.
“Ms. Barkely, soon you will see I never turn away from my duties when there is something that needs my full attention. Good night and pleasant dreams.”
He shut the door and when he did, a breeze ran through the room. It was as if it had to follow in his footsteps. I hoped I had imagined that.
Chapter Two
I was on edge, like being so close to the cliff’s edge one breath was the difference between admiring the view or becoming part of it. After changing into my worn but favorite cotton pajama set, I forced my tense body to slide under the elegant paisley sheets and started counting sheep. I’d already tried using my excess energy up by unpacking but it hadn’t relieved the apprehension that an invisible presence in the room watched me. The one Victorian painting made me wonder if I needed to check for peepholes in the faces of the gentry in any portrait I came across in the manor. That brought a cold realization where my fear and paranoia were getting the best of my normally sensible character.
The clicking of the mantel clock was slower than the thumping of my heart so I focused on slowing the beat to a more relaxed tempo. Being like this on my first night was not a good sign of the days to come. If I didn’t calm down soon, then the visions would kick in where my heart beat left off. Rationalizing the matters of the day was a way for me to dissect them into manageable pieces. If that didn’t work then jogging up and down a flight of steps might exhaust me into not caring how bad my nerves wanted to crawl away.
Yes, I was in an unknown place with an attractive man who might have an underlying plan once the attorney read the will stipulations. Did he have hopes that he was in the bequest or was he just a type of butler who helped out my step-grandfather? That image made me smile a bit. Did he know I was getting a few thousand for even showing up for the will and it made him believe I was nothing but a spoiled gold digger? Why the hell did I care? He was no one to me. I’d gladly walk away from this insanity now rather than subject myself to enough drama that my visions were more frequent than prime time commercials.
The fuzzy sheep in my head were jumping over the ticking clock as I forced myself to clear enough tension to somewhat meditate. Those rules about unruly kids just needing to lie down for a few minutes; I was totally that kid in my head. After all of the anxiety attacks with impending visions, I had to go to a yoga expert to help me learn to meditate. It had helped a great deal during the past year, even if I had to clean her house to pay for my sessions. The money had dwindled after we’d gotten familiar with each other so she’d offered a barter system as I was about out of funds by the fifth session. My pride allowed me to accept her offer and I had thanked God for it.
I pictured myself pushing storage boxes out of my cranium as a way to get myself centered. It was a silly image to use but I’d come across it in a yoga textbook and had successfully tried it out during the fourth lesson. She’d laughed at how fast I calmed my twitching, so I shared it with her afterward. I pushed aside a large purple tote which had Kenrick written on it, but it pushed back. Mentally frowning, I rolled up my pajama sleeves and shoved as hard as I could muster for such a small image. I succeeded in making it skitter across the floor of my mind and dusted my hands off before going to the next bin. The instant I concentrated on it, the cube turned into an orange one with Kenrick’s name scribbled across it. No way.
Kicking it like a soccer ball, it slid into place by the purple one. Eyeing them carefully over my shoulder, I went for the biggest green one. A bright emerald green tote but when I went to position it beside the others, it turned into a copper bin, the color of Kenrick’s eyes. Shit. I hadn’t registered the clock ticking anymore so I knew I must have halfway hypnotized myself for the images to change so quickly. I squealed as the bin glowed so bright I had to shield my eyes from the intensity of it. Then came a soft chuckle, making me jump in surprise.
Kenrick stood before me, just inches from touching me. I was still in my ice cream cone fabric pajamas, but he wore jogging pants. How had my brain envisioned him to look so sexy in a pair of faded olive jogging pants? What the hell was going on in my disturbed mind? I’d never had it turn this way before. The technique never involved actual people, let alone strangers, that was part
of the reason for meditating in the first place. Unnerving but worse as he began smiling at me like I was missing something.
“What? And why are you here? I don’t recall inviting you into my dream.” I tapped my foot.
“But you did.”
“The hell I did!”
“Tsk, Tsk, what language from such a soft woman.”
“Excuse me? Soft?” I’d been called mousy, timid, and serious but never soft. Maybe it was the pajamas or the fact I’d taken my hair down from its messy updo after the drive over. I hated having it all in my face when stressed, even if it hid the frown which always landed between my dark eyebrows.
“No insult intended, my lady,” was his only reply as he gave a more neutral expression.
“I need sleep and you aren’t a part of that, so you can be on your way now,” I emphasized with a shooing motion of my hands.
“Sadly, I’m not that easily dispatched. And what would make you think I’m here to facilitate your sleep?” The look on his face put a different meaning to the words.
“I may be dreaming but it’s my mind you’ve hopped into so I should be able to call the shots here. That would mean you taking your tight butt out of my safe place and back to wherever you came from.”
He stood there with his hands behind his back.
If he wouldn’t leave then I could try to. I walked to the other side of my mind and envisioned a door farthest away from my intruder. I practically jumped through it and instantly felt myself falling into deep space. Just as I opened my mouth to scream myself awake, a pair of strong arms caught my body. Sighing, I tilted my head up to see Kenrick. Shit! My mind was no friend of mine at that moment.
I whispered to him, “Please put me down.”
“Why? You fit nicely enough.”
“I don’t belong here and neither do you.”
“You are the witch who called me to your side, not I who invaded your secure bed rest.”
“I’m not a witch!” I was surprised at him even thinking that of me. I may have visions but I wasn’t even close to being pagan, let alone a practicing Wiccan. I’d been raised as a Methodist, for Christ’s sake. Besides, how would he know my religious preferences?
“I politely asked, now I’m demanding. Put me down!”
He grinned down at me. Wasn’t he getting tired of holding this cavalier pose? I may be only five-foot-four but I was not a waif. I had curves and strong limbs, even if I’d lost five pounds in the last month. That couldn’t be helped as I’d been lean on my grocery shopping budget. I wiggled myself as to make his grip slip but it didn’t work. He only chuckled again.
Gritting my teeth, I hissed, “Put. Me. Down.”
He did but not exactly how I had hoped. He slid me down his body until I firmly braced myself on my own two feet. And yet I remained against him. Shoving against his solid chest did nothing to bring some personal space between us. It only reminded me he was shirtless in my mental mini-vacation. This needed to stop.
“Fine, if you won’t go then state your business and be done with it.”
“You still think it’s that easy?”
“Yes, Mr. Dream Invader, I do. State your piece and go away. I need my sleep so I can deal with you in reality in the morning.”
“How would you deal with me? I’d love to hear this.”
“Look, Giles, I’m tired, cranky, out of my element, and scared that I’m going to wake up with a severe anxiety attack if you don’t leave me to my meditating.”
“We wouldn’t want that, now would we?”
“Sexy dreams are great but I’m not in the frame of mind to deal with this right now.”
“I can get you in that wonderful frame of mind. We have a connection, my dear.”
“How so?” I asked but he just looked at me, eyes blazing like a cat’s caught in firelight.
I gulped as his warmth crept into me. Now I was getting sensations in my head? Next, I’d be doing something embarrassing like having my clothes fall off. Goodness, he was handsome. I squeezed my eyes tight as I fought my subconscious from having that happen. No way. No how. That’s when I felt his hand graze down my hair and across my cheekbone. My eyes were wide open with that.
“So soft, like silk and lingerie. Your skin is peaches and cream on a fine china plate. Your eyes are like dusk captured in the reflection of a lake. I can just see the waves of emotion as your expressive face tips up to the light.”
Oh good heavens. Poetry was a weakness and he hit me at a low point. But as this was my dream, no wonder he seemed so appealing. I looked into his eyes and it seemed as if a fire burned there. A roaring fire on a cold winter night that captivated me. I felt the heat from those flames and it surprised me. I never got temperature changes or touch during my mental meditations. It was just an exercise to force unwanted things out and leave the quiet of an uncluttered attic. Wide open and peaceful.
This wasn’t me. I didn’t do this, I’d never even had a wet dream in my whole twenty-six years. I dug my small nails into my fists and fought to disconnect myself from the feel of his skin against mine. I needed to wake up. A stranger was in my dream and he seemed intent on keeping me there. This was my realm. My mind was in charge, not his. I was manifesting this strange dream because I’d been so lonely lately. I’d like to think it was better than one of my stress-induced visions, but those left me drained. This was too intimate for my tired emotions. The need to wake pressed at me.
“Renata?” he whispered as I squeezed my eyes shut so tightly my brow strained.
It wasn’t working. “Why can’t you just go away?”
“Renata, you are stuck with me, for the time being. I won’t apologize as we both have something the other needs.”
“Say what?”
“I’ll explain this all to you at a later time. You’re already overwhelmed and it can wait, as time can be unraveled in the near future. I will make you see. No worries about that, my dear.”
I smacked my hands against his chest. It wasn’t real after all, so I could do as I pleased. He flinched but didn’t release me. I willed him to dissolve into white noise as I felt my head pound with the inner turmoil. That was not a good sign. Then his lips brushed mine and a gasp of shock escaped me.
“How dare you—” My words disappeared as he pressed into me, lips and body.
It was a soft possession but with a hunger which edged on more dangerous things. It felt different than my last few attempts for a good night kiss, especially the one that had me waking on my lumpy den couch, alone.
He spoke against my lips, but I couldn’t catch the words. Something sounded vaguely like French. I’d briefly taken a course in high school but it had been many moons ago. Those soft lips grazed against mine again and my breath caught in my tight chest. I formed the word No in my mind as if to yell, but he stepped away so quickly I wavered on my feet. As I looked up through my tousled hair, he was gone. Why couldn’t he have done that before he kissed me?
****
I woke up with sunlight in my eyes and threw the covers over my sleepy face. I didn’t want to wake yet. I’d tossed and turned most of the night and had been up until about two hours ago. No one else had visited in my dream, but I had instantly been caught in a labyrinth impossible to navigate out of. Stretching, I got up to see what was going on in the huge estate. Maybe someone would be able to answer some of my questions while I waited for Mr. White to make an appearance.
I took a quick shower in the adjoining bathroom and decided I would take a leisurely bath in the claw-footed tub if I was too keyed up to sleep tonight. A nap actually sounded great and I never took those. That’s just how crappy a night it had been. If there wasn’t anyone up for me to speak to then I’d investigate the estate, including the grounds. That led me to pull on my plain hooded sweatshirt with my thick twill khakis. After rubbing some gel into my loose corkscrew curls, I yanked on socks and my old running shoes. I had told myself to forget my makeup bag but something had driven me to put on the basic cosme
tics. Maybe I just needed to cover the slight bruising under my troubled eyes? Yes, that was it.
I walked out into the dark wood of the hallway and down the beautifully lacquered winding staircase. Other than a slight trace of dust, the house stood in a wonderful state of care. Almost as if stopped in time but then you would see a few modern conveniences mixed into the vintage décor. It was so comforting that I felt as if I wasn’t such an unwelcomed guest. The house felt as warm as the bed I had tossed around in all night.
Seeing the front entrance, I headed that way to walk around the perimeter but the door was pulled open as I pushed upon its heavy weight. I stumbled with a cry but someone caught me before I went halfway down the first stone step. I looked into the familiar eyes of Kenrick. “Oh shit.” Then a vision grabbed me faster than the man in front of me.
An ancient, decrepit, and lonely graveyard huddled in the fog of my second sight. Some of the stones were faceless and the statues were of long ago people from a past I wasn’t aware of. The heavy air wasn’t just the fog of my inner mind but of the bayou on the borders of this property. I pushed toward a stone which had thrummed in the wet ground at my bare toes. I wore a white dress of muslin that brushed the tall grass. The plot had grown up around its inhabitants. So lonely. The marble, which called to me, was so worn from the environment it was no longer a slick cold surface but worn like calloused fingertips. Somehow I knew someone had long ago visited this stone as to touch the person there, missing them with a palpable pain.
The dense air of my vision turned the carved name into a blur my eyes couldn’t make out. I traced the letters and brushed against the familiar old rose vine that trailed across the once pure white surface. It was just as decayed as the markers themselves but still held the sharpness of the loss of a loved one. A prick of awareness brought me to the hand laid across those thorns, and the blood sliding down my lace covered wrist. I didn’t want the blood on my hands. It was so thick, like it had congealed. So thick. I went to rub it against the rough stone edge but was stopped by a darker hand.