FrankenDom

  Something must be wrong. The exacting neurosurgeon who’d made all the residents quake in their sneakers when he walked by would never let anything in his possession deteriorate this way.

  Thunder rumbled in the distance, and I shivered as a gust of rainy-smelling wind whipped up a funnel of leaves in the barren courtyard, plastering my pleated skirt against my thighs. Fortunately, I’d worn black tights and ankle boots so I didn’t have to worry about flashing anyone.

  Dirk finally got my bag over the edge of the trunk and let it thump onto the gravel next to my guitar. I’d brought everything I could possibly fit into two bags, and that one was so overweight, it would have cost an arm and a leg to get it on the plane if I hadn’t been flying first class.

  He strapped the smaller bag to the larger, then picked up my guitar and turned. “If you will follow me, Dr. McBride.”

  Wow, talk about service. A cabbie—especially one I’d offended—would have dumped my bags on the ground and left me to haul them in myself.

  I followed him through the courtyard and was surprised when he veered away from the badly weathered front doors. He rolled my bags along a cobblestone path at the foot of the castle and disappeared around the corner.

  When I caught up with him, I had to stop and gape. There was a tremendous white wind turbine practically right there in the back yard, its slender blades spinning lazily in spite of the blustery wind. How had I not seen that? It towered over the castle and the surrounding forest of trees, looking very out of place in the primeval setting.

  “Dr. McBride, this way, if you please.”

  I tore my eyes away to find Dirk waiting for me, gesturing impatiently up a short run of steps with a framed ramp for wheelchair access on the side. He was certainly arrogant for a limo driver, but then it seemed like really good-looking men always were, no matter how lowly their occupation. His erect bearing and strong Slavic features radiated command, and I wondered if he might have spent some time in the military.

  Another rumble of thunder, this one louder, had me hurrying up the steps to the small wooden deck and ringing the doorbell. It took a few minutes, but the door finally opened and a cheerful young redhead with a Van Dyke beard emerged.

  “You must be Dr. McBride. I’m Vince Price, Dr. Kilmartin’s personal assistant. And before you ask,” he said with a grin, “yes, it’s short for Vincent. I think that’s the main reason he hired me.”

  I couldn’t help smiling as I shook the hand he held out. “I wouldn’t be that rude.”

  Dirk snorted and Vince gave him a quizzical look. I just ignored him. After all, I’d already apologized, and he was the limo driver, not the master of the house. If anyone should be bowing and scraping, it was him.

  “I’m sorry, you must be freezing,” Vince said. “Please come in.”

  The heels of my boots echoed loudly as we walked down a long, cramped hallway that smelled just like the damp stone it was made of.

  “Sorry about the side entry, but the front doors are heavy as hell and tend to sag, so they’re hard to open. We usually only use them if we need to get something big into the building.”

  “It was no problem. These boots were made for walking.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  I laughed. “Not at all.”

  “Good. I don’t think they’d get you very far anyway. Thunderstorms are just off to the north and the forecast calls for several inches of ice and snow later tonight.”

  “Well I’m glad we made it here in time. I really don’t care that much for either storms or cold weather.”

  “You probably won’t care for it much here then. It’s supposed to be unusually cold this winter.”

  “Lovely.”

  We emerged into a dark room with high, shadowed ceilings and bare stone walls and floors, one narrow window, and a stark rustic bench for furniture. Judging from the direction we’d taken, it must be one of the towers.

  Either the window was very grimy or the storm had already closed in, because it looked threateningly dark outside for early afternoon.

  “Just leave Dr. McBride’s luggage by the bench, Dirk. Mrs. Petters has fresh coffee and pastries for you in the kitchen,” Vince told him. When I pulled out my wallet, he added, “Thank you, Rachel, but that’s not necessary. Dr. Kilmartin’s already taken care of it.”

  “Oh. Well then.” I put my wallet back into my bag and said goodbye to Dirk after he deposited my stuff. Vince helped me out of my coat, and I set it on the bench along with my computer bag and purse.

  “I know you’re probably tired and anxious to get settled in your room,” he said apologetically, “but Dr. Kilmartin requested that I take you directly to him when you arrived.”

  Nerves seized me again, but I smiled valiantly. “That’s fine. I’m kind of anxious to see him again, too. I’m dying of curiosity about this project.”

  Vince walked over to a wide door and pushed a button beside it. Only when it opened did I realize what it was.

  “Call me crazy, but an elevator is probably the last thing I expected to find in a castle. Not that I’m complaining,” I added. It boded well for the castle’s plumbing.

  “Dr. Kilmartin had it installed several years ago. There’s another one in the southwest tower, and yet another in the labs.” He ushered me inside and pushed the button for the second floor. The elevator hummed loudly before taking off so smoothly I could hardly tell it was moving. When the door opened, Colin was waiting on the other side.

  “I’ll escort her from here,” he said.

  Vince gave a nod and then turned to me. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, Rachel.”

  “Thanks, you too.”

  Colin led me away by the elbow, leaving Vince standing beside the elevator watching us.

  “Hello again, Rachel,” he said, a ghost of a smile curving his lips. “Did you have a pleasant trip?”

  “It was fine. Until London, anyway. The hotel was nice, but I white-knuckled most of the flight today because we were skirting the same front that grounded last night’s connection.” Shut up! You’re rambling! I took a deep breath. “But now that I’m on solid ground, I’m great.”

  “Good. Julian’s impatient to see you.”

  Colin seemed tired and tense, and a little pallid, which was an unusual look for him. Though we’d never had that kind of relationship, I had to squash the urge to scold him for not taking care of himself. He was still gorgeous, don’t get me wrong—taller than me by a couple of inches and very trim, with thick brown hair and heavy-lidded blue eyes that usually danced with amusement or sparked with temper. But the light in his eyes was dampened now, and his typical boyish grin was missing. It made me even more nervous.

  My heartbeat galloped irregularly as he led me down a long carpeted hallway. This one was finished with either Sheetrock or plaster and smelled like apple cider. About halfway down the hall, he opened a door and ushered me into a warm, spacious living/dining area that smelled even better. Three places were set at the end of a large formal dining table and a covered soup tureen sat between them.

  “Sit down.” He gestured toward the seating area by the fireplace, where a subdued fire burned. “I’ll go get Julian.”

  After he disappeared through another door, I sank down at the end of a plush leather sofa, swallowing against the butterflies trying to fight their way out my throat. Lightning flashed repeatedly, and I noticed rain was sheeting down the high mullioned window. I didn’t hear thunder, though—the only sounds in the room were a faint hissing from the fire and the ticking of a large, ornate grandfather clock. The thick stone walls must really provide an excellent sound barrier.

  Flanking the fireplace were two built-in bookshelves bursting with paperbacks and a few framed photographs. When two minutes dragged into five, I gave in to my curiosity and got up for a closer look. The books ranged from legal thrillers to medical thrillers, but that wasn’t what interested me.

  Julian was in one of the photos. He stood with his arm around the shou
lders of a younger, less intense version of himself. His brother? I seemed to recall hearing he had one at university in England at some point during my residency. Two of the other photos were of the same young man, one a posed football picture and the other a casual shot of him on a boat, grinning from ear to ear. The last was probably a formal portrait of Julian’s parents—the resemblance between all the males was unmistakable.

  Feeling like I was invading his privacy, I turned away. But before I could return to my seat, the door opened and Julian appeared.

  In the space of a heartbeat, his larger-than-life presence occupied every corner of my mind. Though he’d hardly changed at all, there was something very different about him. Time had deepened the grooves in his boldly chiseled face and he wore dark-rimmed glasses, which made his gray eyes seem larger and more intense. His dark blond hair was longer, his forehead perhaps a bit higher than I remembered. And he was dressed in a heather-blue turtleneck sweater and time-worn Levis that clung lovingly to his tall, raw-boned physique.

  It dawned on me that I’d never seen him without a lab coat.

  I was in Dr. Julian Kilmartin’s home.

  The unexpected intimacy left me breathless as he paused just inside to inspect me—or that was how it felt, anyway. Suddenly I was acutely conscious of how long it had been since I looked in the mirror. Dammit, I should have said I needed to go to the bathroom. I hardly ever wore makeup and I’d caught myself rubbing my itchy eyes more than once during the drive. And it felt like half my hair had escaped from its pony tail. Why hadn’t I used something sturdier than a scarf to tie it back?

  Then Julian’s lips curved in a smile, something else I’d never seen him wearing. It left me completely discombobulated as he walked toward me.

  Taking my hands, he murmured, “Dr. McBride.”

  “Dr. Kilmartin.” While my mouth replied automatically, the rest of me screamed with awareness that he was touching me. In the two years we’d worked in the same hospital, he’d never touched me, never even brushed my arm in passing.

  He gave a warm squeeze. “Thank you for coming.”

  Like I could refuse.

  It didn’t dawn on me until he laughed that I’d said that out loud.

  “I’m glad to hear it,” he said. Letting go of one of my hands, he gestured toward the table. Colin was already there, pulling out a chair. “Won’t you join us for dinner?”

  “Thank you, that would be wonderful.”

  “After you, then.”

  His hand in the small of my back, he guided me to the chair Colin had pulled out. Wow, they really went in for the courtly manners around here. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had escorted me to the table or pulled out my chair for me.

  While Colin took the seat across from me, Julian sat down a bit gingerly at the head of the table.

  Years of conditioning made me ask, “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, yes.” He waved me off as he leaned back. “Just overdid my last workout.”

  “Good for you,” I said, unfolding the maroon napkin and laying it across my lap. “I can’t remember the last time I worked out.”

  “You’ll have to start. Being in peak physical condition is especially important for surgeons. Colin will show you the facilities tomorrow and Hans will help you set up a balanced but challenging exercise regimen.”

  “Of course, Sir,” Colin said with a nod.

  My hackles rose slightly, but I reminded myself who he was. The great Dr. Julian Kilmartin was no doubt used to ordering his minions around all day long. I’d have to either choose my battles or be assimilated.

  I picked up my glass of water and took a long drink. Tepid and metallic, not my favorite combination. They didn’t do ice in drinks over here, did they?

  A tall, lovely blonde woman in a gray maid’s uniform appeared at Julian’s side bearing a wine bottle wrapped in a white cloth. Her nametag said Lili.

  “May I serve you, Dr. Kilmartin?” she asked in thickly accented English.

  “Thank you, Lili.”

  She showed him the label and then poured a sample into his stem glass, waiting for his nod of approval before filling all our glasses. Once she left, he took a long sip of the white and I followed suit. I wasn’t normally a wine fan but this was delicious—sweet and fruity.

  Colin took a long drink from his glass, and the sight of his very masculine throat muscles working made me breathless.

  Tearing my gaze away, I turned to Julian. “So tell me about this surgery on the 31st.”

  He shook his head. “Grisly subjects are best saved until after we’ve finished eating, my dear. I’d rather hear about your adventures. Colin tells me you went on holiday recently?”

  A quick glance at Colin showed nothing but polite interest. “Yes, I took a dive trip to the Turks and Caicos.”

  “I’ve never been, but I’ve seen photographs. It looks lovely.”

  “Lovely doesn’t even begin to describe it,” I told him, warming quickly to the subject. “The islands themselves aren’t much to write home about, but the beaches are just beautiful. And the diving—oh my God, it’s absolutely amazing. It would take years to explore all the hundreds of miles of reefs. Between diving and snorkeling, I spent so much time in the water, my fingers and toes were wrinkled the whole week I was there.”

  He glanced at the hand holding my wineglass. “You have lovely fingers.”

  A little disconcerted, I took another sip before saying, “Thank you.”

  “I’ve heard the people there are lovely, too,” he said casually, watching my face.

  Suddenly it grew a little difficult to breathe evenly, and despite my efforts to contain it, heat spread up my neck. It was ridiculous—the man was just making polite conversation and I was reacting like he’d just asked to see a video of my fling with one of the hotel bartenders.

  “Definitely,” I stated emphatically. “The service at my hotel was outstanding, and everyone seemed like they were genuinely friendly and interested in you rather than just schmoozing for a tip. I plan to go back every year, if I can find the time.”

  “Always nice to find friendly staff when you’re on holiday,” he observed. “I never cared much for being in underwater myself. Something about the sensory deprivation, I think—being unable to hear or see properly, unable to smell anything.”

  “Unable to breathe,” Colin added, rolling the stem of his wineglass between his long fingers.

  “That would be a bit of a downer, too, yes,” Julian replied dryly.

  “Which is why we wear scuba gear, Colin,” I said with exaggerated patience, as if speaking to a backward schoolboy. Falling back into this kind of interaction with him was entirely too easy.

  His grin widened. “Is that so.”

  Lili returned with a loaf of bread, apparently fresh from the oven. As she sliced off several fragrant pieces and laid them on our bread plates, my stomach growled loudly.

  Julian just laughed when I slapped my hand over it. “For God’s sake, girl, this is clearly no time to stand on ceremony. Eat.”

  “Sorry,” I murmured as I tore off a piece of the bread and buttered it, now ten shades of red. “I didn’t have any lunch.”

  “Why not?” he asked with narrowed eyes.

  My heart skipped a beat at his tone. Surely he wasn’t really annoyed that I hadn’t eaten? “I’m not the best flyer and there was quite a bit of turbulence.”

  “Ah. You’re forgiven then.”

  I smiled. “Well that’s a relief.”

  “Don’t let it happen again, though,” he added. “I’ll expect you to eat nutritious meals at regular intervals.”

  My eyes widened. “I didn’t realize my eating habits were subject to your approval.”

  In the middle of buttering his own bread, Colin paused to stare at me like I’d just spewed a stream of profanities.

  Julian’s eyes narrowed again. “You didn’t, eh?”

  Unnerved, I set my bread without taking a bite. So much for cho
osing my battles. I was missing something here, but God only knew what. Once again, we seemed to be playing a game and I was the only player who didn’t know the rules.

  It occurred to me that I really knew very little about Julian Kilmartin. Long-standing hero worship aside, he was a stranger to me.

  When both of them continued to study me as if trying to identify some new species, I grew uncomfortable. “What?”

  “You didn’t read your contracts, did you, Rachel?”

  Julian’s rumbling drawl sent a shiver of awareness up my spine, and I could have sworn I heard a silent you naughty girl tacked on at the end. Good Lord, spending so much time on this side of the Atlantic had really stiffened his British accent. Five years ago I’d have found it thrilling, but right now it made him even more a stranger.

  “Of course I did,” I said dismissively. I’d skimmed the employment contract, anyway. The non-disclosure and personal conduct agreements, I’d signed with barely a glance. I would never betray any employer, much less Julian Kilmartin, and conducting myself professionally was a point of pride with me.

  The fingertips of his right hand tapped on the table, rolling from pinkie to index finger in time with the ticking of the wall clock. Again. And again. And again.

  “Hmmm, and now you’re lying.”

  I bit my lips, feeling my pulse quicken and my bones go a little bit rubbery. How did he know? Had I agreed to something I shouldn’t have? Even more alarming, why was I excited to be caught in a half-truth?

  I strove for calm. “What does it matter?”

  “If you’d read your contracts, my dear,” he said, his expression as keenly enigmatic as any Bond villain’s, “you wouldn’t have to ask that question.”

  The lights flickered, and I twitched nervously.

  “Have no fear, my dear Rachel. We have extensive backup power systems if the winds become too strong to safely operate the turbine.”

  “I wasn’t worried,” I lied, “but thanks for the reassurance.”

  “Mr. Price emailed your contract copies last night. Did you download them?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Good girl.”

  His praise set my teeth on edge. “I’m not a girl.”