He’d been like a little kid, listening intently as Ramsey talked to him about the finer details of carving. It was nice to see him like that, so enthusiastic over something so simple. And he was astonishingly good at carving, she had to admit. He’d fumbled a little, finding some of the holding positions a little awkward with his hand, but he’d managed to get the basic shape of a bird carved into the soapstone. Even Ramsey had been impressed by his talent.
She closed her eyes, her thoughts drifting from the afternoon back to the kiss she’d shared with Gabriel in the morning. Frankly, she hadn’t thought of much else, remembering the feel of his lips against hers, his hands roaming her body, the tangle of his tongue with hers. She shivered and snuggled even further under the doona. She wasn’t quite sure what to do about that. They hadn’t mentioned it, spending the rest of the day as though nothing had happened.
She sighed. Nothing. It had been far from nothing. It had been hot, sexy, uninhibited and bordering on wild. She’d been amazed at his later revelations about his first, over-attentive physio. She’d even been just a little ashamed at her own behaviour. She knew all the arguments that should prevent her from seeking out that kind of attention from Gabriel, but her body and mind weren’t cooperating.
Even now, eyes closed and in the dark, her mind centred on the memory of her hands sliding over his shoulders, gliding down over his pectoral muscles, the contact smooth and sensual. She couldn’t afford to lose this job, she couldn’t afford to ruin her professional reputation by having a dalliance with a client.
She couldn’t stop thinking about him, wanting him.
She slowly drifted off to sleep, relaxing, sliding into a troubled slumber where she dreamed about a green-eyed monster with an unearthly countenance so maliciously evil she had to escape from it.
She woke with a start, hearing the floor creak by her bed. She blinked blearily, rolling over to look in the direction of her door. The room lay in darkness, the white of the bedspread glowing eerily in the murky room. She squinted. Nothing. Nobody. It was just her imagination.
She sighed and lay back, turning her head to glance idly out of her bedroom window. A dark figure stood in the very faint light that struggled to enter the room, a silhouette that stood still for the length of time it took Bella’s sleepy mind to register the intruder.
Her eyes widened. She opened her mouth to scream, but the figure sprang at her, shoving a pillow in her face with such force that a fist connected with her left cheekbone. She tried to scream harder, louder, as the pressure on the pillow forced her back down onto the bed.
Chapter 8
Her screams were muffled by the pillow covering her face, and she tried to grab at the hands that were slowly trying to suffocate her. The pillow smelled of dust and a musky rose laced with amber and vanilla. She tried to turn her head, but the pressure on her face made the soft mattress dent under her body, enveloping her in a tight, restrictive embrace. She tried to kick, her legs caught and trapped by sheets and doona, an effective prison against escape, against survival.
Everything was dark, and she was getting dizzy, white stars flecking her vision. She batted at the arms pressing her down, trying to fight, trying to flee as her lungs screamed for air. Her chest pumped, as though her heart was trying to leap out. She could feel her strength leaving her, her arms were growing heavy. She clawed her fingers and scratched at the limbs holding her down, killing her.
She wanted Gabriel. She stretched her arm out toward the door. He was so close, just down the hall. Completely oblivious to her terror.
She felt breath against her ear – hot, horrible breath.
‘Stay away from my man.’ The words were whispered harshly, and she tried to recoil from the heavy violence in the speech.
Darkness crept over her, stealing her consciousness with greedy fingers as her arms flailed once more. The last thing she heard was glass smashing as she was pulled into a dreadful oblivion.
***
Gabe woke with a start when he heard the smash. He froze for a moment, listening. He was sure he’d heard something. He threw the covers off, and rose, dragging at the pair of shorts lying on the end of his bed and stepping into them as he walked across his room.
He paused at the door, cracking it just a little to peer into the dark hall with his one good eye. Damn, he wished he could get rid of this eye patch – he felt as if he was peering myopically down a dark kaleidoscope.
He couldn’t see anything, and he almost went back to bed. A chill crept over his shoulders, making goosebumps rise on his flesh. He hesitated. The only other person in the house slept in a room just down the hall, and apparently hadn’t heard the same noise, as there was no sign of Bella peeking from her bedroom to see what all the fuss was about.
The strong urge to go check on Bella, to make sure she was safe, swept over him, and he stepped into the hallway, a protective need compelling him to steal down the darkened corridor. He couldn’t have resisted the compulsion if he had tried. He just hoped she wouldn’t think he was some kind of freak, snooping around on her.
He knocked on her door before he could convince himself to go back to bed. He put his ear to the door. He frowned. He could hear rustling on the other side, but no response from Bella. He knocked again.
‘Bella? Are you awake?’
He hadn’t even bothered to look at the clock on his bedside table before leaving his room. He had no idea what time it was, only that it still felt like the middle of the night.
‘Bella?’ This time his whisper was a little louder. The rustling stopped, followed by a faint click.
A chill crept over him, and he twisted the door handle and pushed.
The room was in darkness, with only a muted glow coming in from the window. Bella lay on the bed, arms flung out from her sides. He couldn’t see her face.
‘Bella?’ He stepped closer, flinching as shards of something sharp pierced his foot. Ow. What the hell? He fumbled for the light switch, glancing down to his feet when he finally felt the little tab and flicked it.
Coloured glass shards were strewn over the floor, the leadlight lamp lying broken and twisted alongside them. Immediately his eyes swept over the bed, the tangled, rumpled sheets, and the pillow over Bella’s face.
‘Bella!’ He leapt over the broken lamp onto the bed, flinging the pillow away from her face. She lay there, still and pale, a bruise darkening her left cheek. ‘Bella!’ What the hell had happened? Had she had a nightmare and thrown the lamp during a night terror? But she was so still…
He pressed shaky fingers against the pulse in her neck, and his shoulders sagged when he felt it, faint and stuttery. He cupped her face, concerned at how cool it felt. ‘Bella.’ He lightly tapped her cheek. ‘Bella, wake up.’
He glanced at her chest – it rose ever so slightly beneath the thin fabric of the Avengers nightshirt she wore. She was breathing, but only faintly.
What the hell was wrong with her?
‘Come on, sweetheart, wake up,’ he whispered to her, patting her face gently. ‘Bella, wake up.’ This time his voice was stronger, louder. ‘Please, sweetheart, open your eyes.’
He rose from the bed and padded across to the adjoining bathroom. He wet a washcloth and came back to lay it against her forehead. She didn’t have a fever, but he wasn’t sure what else to do. He swept the cloth down each side of her face, wincing as he gently pressed it to her bruised cheek.
Her eyelids fluttered, just a little. ‘That’s it, sweetheart, wake up for me.’
He gently wiped her neck, sliding the wet fabric across her collarbone above the white nightshirt.
He could see her pulse flutter in her neck, and his mouth relaxed with relief when he noticed its regular, stronger beat. She moaned softly. ‘Come on, Bella. Show me those big beautiful eyes of yours.’
Her lashes fluttered again, and this time her eyelids moved. She opened her eyes, and for a moment she wore a confused look, before consciousness crept in, and she jerked upright and back ag
ainst the headboard, arms flailing in front of her. One fist connected briefly with his cheek before he managed to catch her arms.
‘Hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s me, Gabe. It’s okay, you’re okay.’
She glanced around the room, and he grew concerned at the look of real fear on her face.
‘Where is she?’ Her voice was hoarse, her eyes frantically searching the room.
‘Who?’ He frowned, leaning in closer to make eye contact with the wild-eyed woman in his arms. ‘What’s the matter, Bella?’ Maybe she’d had a night terror, and was still in the grips of it.
‘Where is she, the woman?’
‘What woman?’ he asked patiently, trying to use his voice to calm her.
Her hazel-green gaze snapped back to his, and he realised that although she was fearful, she was alert and fully aware.
‘Where is the woman who tried to kill me?’
‘What?’ Bella saw Gabriel’s eyes widen in surprise at her words, his expression dark with concern.
She tried to sit up. Gabe let go of her arms as soon as he realised he was still holding her, and she scooted back to sit flush against the headboard, glancing toward the window.
‘Someone was in here.’ Her cheek felt hot, and she raised her hand to touch her face, wincing when her fingers prodded at the swelling on her cheek.
He frowned and touched her chin, moving her face so that he could better look at her cheek. ‘What happened?’ he asked hoarsely.
She told him, fighting back tears when she mentioned the pressure of the pillow against her face, the sapping energy as her breath was stolen from her lungs. She hesitated when she got to the point where her assailant had spoken to her, but she told him, even though it made her sound crazy.
He looked at her for a moment before rising from the bed to check the rest of the room. She watched as he padded across to the window like a half-naked warrior, his muscles tense as he prowled the space. He checked the window, then the bathroom, her closet…under her bed.
He knelt by the bed, rested his arm along the mattress by her side and looked up at her, his gaze calm yet determined. ‘Come with me while I check the rest of the house.’
She didn’t need to be told twice. She swept the covers aside and accepted the hand he held out to her. Her heart still pounded, and her muscles were tense, as though she was ready to fight, or ready to run. She wasn’t sure if she was more scared or angry. Probably scared, but damn, she was more than a little bit pissed off, too. Some bitch had tried to smother her. She didn’t know why she thought it was a woman, the whisper wasn’t loud or distinct enough for her to register a feminine or masculine tone, and the hands that had held her down were strong, but instinctively she knew. Some bitch had tried to smother her.
And had nearly succeeded.
They padded through the house, Gabriel switching on the lights as they went, checking one room after another. Gabriel was thorough, checking all windows and doors, until finally he felt the house was secure, and there was no intruder present – at least, not anymore.
Then he called the police.
Bella wasn’t sure if Gabriel actually believed her, or just wanted to calm her fears, but she spent the next two hours talking to cops who thought she’d had a nightmare and needed a headache tablet and a good rest. They did check all the windows and doors again, and walked around outside while she and Gabriel cleaned up the broken shards of the lamp in her room. By the time the police departed, she was ready to fall asleep on her feet – despite her nagging fears.
Gabriel walked her back to her room. ‘I can’t see anyone here, now,’ he told her quietly, calmly as he stood on her threshold.
Oh God, did he think she’d made it up, like some desperate femme fatale – as the young police officers had? Had he just gone through the whole exercise in an effort to placate her?
‘Someone was here,’ she responded, just as quietly, just as calmly.
He raised his hand to gently cup her cheek, and his touch was a cool comfort to the heated swelling. ‘I believe you. I just can’t figure out what happened. There’s no sign of entry, nothing to show who, or how, or why.’ He smiled. ‘Maybe it was the ghost of Mona Murphy.’
She frowned. ‘There’s no such thing as ghosts.’ She knew he was trying to lighten the tension, but she wasn’t feeling cooperative.
He grinned. ‘You keep telling yourself that.’ She managed a smile at his teasing. He hesitated. ‘Will you be okay?’ His voice was low, and she drew comfort from his concern. She nodded and folded her arms across her stomach.
‘Yeah, thanks.’ She was fine. Gabriel had checked her room, the police had checked her room, they’d all checked the rest of the house – had even checked underneath her bed, bless them. ‘I’ll be fine.’
He looked at her for a moment, glancing from her to the bed and back again. He pointed to his bedroom door. ‘I’m just down the hall if you need me.’
She nodded and retreated behind her door, tears pricking her eyelids as she leaned against the wood and surveyed her room. The bed was a mess, her covers in disarray. There was an empty spot on her table where the lamp had stood. Had she dreamt it all? Was the whole experience possibly the result of an over-active imagination and sleep deprivation? She touched her cheek, still a little sore. No. Someone had tried to kill her here, tonight. She hugged herself, trying to warm her body against the pervasive chill in the room.
She didn’t feel safe here, not in this room, not anymore.
She opened the door. Gabriel’s room was within sight. Should she go?
She remembered their discussion earlier, of the strange woman who had watched over him as he slept. Was she like that woman, forcing her attention on a client in a position of dependence? She wouldn’t want to ever abuse her position, and she’d never want Gabriel to think of her in the same light as that other woman. Besides, what would happen if she went into his room? Would he think she was there for another reason? Would he expect something more from her?
Screw it. Someone had tried to kill her.
She padded down the hall and halted in front of his bedroom. She wanted to feel safe. She shouldn’t feel guilty for wanting to feel safe.
No, she should feel guilty for entering her client’s bedroom in the middle of the night.
But he did offer…
She raised her hand to knock, but the door opened before her hand hit the wood.
Gabe leaned on the door. He still wore only a pair of boxers, his chest bare. He didn’t turn on the light. He gave her a little smile and gestured to his room, welcoming her in.
She took a deep breath, and stepped over the threshold.
Chapter 9
‘I – I, uh…’ her voice trailed off. What? She was scared? She wanted him to hold her? That would sound desperate, weak – vulnerable. She wasn’t ready for that. She didn’t want his pity. She just wanted to feel safe. ‘I just want to sleep,’ she told him. Her shoulders were hunched, her arms wrapped around her body. She was tense and on alert, and she desperately wanted to relax, to sleep. She didn’t want him to think she was trying to make a move on him.
Gabriel’s smiled broadened, his eyes warm and knowing. ‘It’s fine. You’ve had a fright. I understand. Just sleep.’
He led her over to the bed and drew back the covers, letting her climb in first. She snuggled down into his bed, reclining against the far pillow, pulling the sheets over her and patting them around her body. She wasn’t here to sleep with him. She wasn’t here to risk her job. She was here to sleep.
Period.
She held her breath as Gabriel settled down beside her. He was careful not to touch her as he lay back. He bunched the pillow under his head and lay there for a moment, before rolling onto his side, facing away from her.
She tried to relax. She was in bed with her gorgeous client, he was half naked, and she wanted to sleep.
Damn, her life sucked.
She shifted, trying to get comfortable, although it felt as if she was lyin
g on a ridge. He rolled to his back, looking up at the ceiling and sighing gustily.
‘Are you comfortable?’ he asked her, his voice low and deep in the dark.
‘Um, not really,’ she admitted.
‘Neither am I, for some reason.’ He moved, and she blinked when soft light flooded the room. He’d turned a lamp on, and was looking concerned.
‘I want to check the bed again.’
She looked at him, not quite sure she understood. Did he mean the slats? They’d checked that earlier – but this was his bed. He’d be the first to notice a change. She nodded and they both climbed out of the bed. She helped him raise the mattress, and they looked down at the bed base.
The slats had moved. One had turned on its side, raising its edge above the level of the others, while another had slipped its position and fallen below the frame on one side. She glanced at Gabriel’s face.
His expression was dark and enigmatic as he stared at the wooden beams, and a chill crept over her. Somehow the slats had moved.
‘Did you do that?’ she whispered.
‘No.’
His response was clipped, annoyed. She reached down to adjust the slats while he held up the mattress, and once they were both satisfied he returned the heavy mattress to its original position, and they climbed into bed.
The difference as she lay back was remarkable. She no longer felt as if she was sleeping on a bump. But what had happened? Gabriel couldn’t have moved the slats – with his injured shoulder he needed help to raise the mattress, and he certainly couldn’t move the beams and hold the mattress with one arm.
So, what did that mean? That someone had come in and moved them? Why would someone do that? What could possibly be gained from making Gabriel’s rest an uncomfortable one?
Or was there another reason? Was Mona Murphy really haunting the house? She’d been a maid. Presumably making beds had been part of her job…
Bella sighed. Sleep deprivation was turning her batty. She was now seriously considering that a ghost was a reasonable explanation for the strange goings-on; the bumps in the night, the bed sabotage (was there even such a term?) and perhaps even her attack.
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