by Nora Roberts
information she had on my relationship with this woman could have damaged my suit for custody. The beauty of that love meant nothing to Helen. She would turn it into something sordid and ugly.”
Autumn cradled her drink in both hands. She wanted to tell Jacques to stop, that she didn’t want to hear, didn’t want to be involved. But it was too late. She was already involved.
“I was furious when she arrived here with her smug smile and evil eyes.” He looked down into his glass. “There were times, many times, I wanted my hands around her throat, wanted to bruise her face as someone else had done.”
“Yes, I wonder who.” Julia caught her bottom lip between her teeth in thought. “Whoever did that was angry, perhaps angry enough to kill.” Her eyes swept up, across Steve and Autumn and Lucas.
“You were at the inn that morning,” Autumn stated. Her voice sounded odd, thready, and she swallowed.
“So I was.” Julia smiled at her. “Or so I said. Being alone in bed is hardly an airtight alibi. No . . .” She leaned back on the wing of the chair. “I think the police will want to know who socked Helen. You came in with her, Autumn. Did you see anyone?”
“No.” Her eyes flew instantly to Lucas. His were dark, already locked on her face. There were warning signals of anger and impatience she could read too easily. She dropped her gaze to her drink. “No, I . . .” How could she say it? How could she think it?
“Autumn’s had enough for a while.” Steve tightened his arm protectively around her. “Our problems don’t concern her. She doesn’t deserve to be in the middle.”
“Poor child.” Jacques studied her pale, strained face. “You’ve walked into a viper’s nest, oui? Go sleep, forget us for a while.”
“Come on, Autumn, I’ll take you up.” Steve slipped the glass from her hand and set it on the table. With one final glance at Lucas, Autumn went with him.
Chapter 8
They didn’t speak as they mounted the steps. Autumn was too busy trying to force the numbness from her brain. She hadn’t been able to fully absorb everything she’d been told. Steve hurried her by Helen’s door before stopping at the one beside Lucas’s.
“Is this the room your aunt meant?”
“Yes.” She lifted both hands to her hair, pushing its weight away from her face. “Steve.” She searched his face and found herself faltering. “Is all this true? Everything Lucas said? Was Helen really blackmailing all of you?” She noted the discomfort in his eyes and shook her head. “I don’t mean to pry, but—”
“No,” he cut her off, then let out a long breath. “No, it’s hardly prying at this point. You’re not involved, but you’re caught, aren’t you?”
The word was so apt, so close to her own thinking, that she nearly laughed. Caught. Yes, that was it exactly.
“It seems McLean is right on target. Helen had information concerning a deal I made for the company—perfectly within the circle of the law, but . . .” He gave a rueful smile and lifted his shoulders. “Maybe not quite as perfectly as it should have been. There was an ethical question, and it wouldn’t look so good on paper. The technicalities are too complicated to explain, but the gist of it is I didn’t want any shadows on my career. These days, when you’re heading into politics, you have to cover all the angles.”
“Angles,” Autumn repeated and pressed her fingers to her temple. “Yes, I suppose you do.”
“She threatened me, Autumn, and I didn’t care for it—but it wasn’t enough to provoke murder.” He drew a quick breath and shook his head. “But that doesn’t help much, does it? None of us are likely to admit it.”
“I appreciate you telling me anyway,” Autumn said. Steve’s eyes were gentle on her face, but the lines and strain of tension still showed. “It can’t be pleasant for you to have to explain.”
“I’ll have to explain to the police before long,” he said grimly, then noted her expression. “I don’t mind telling you, Autumn, if you feel better knowing. Julia’s right.” His fingers strayed absently to her hair. “It’s much healthier to get it out in the open. But you’ve had enough for now.” He smiled at her, then realized his hands were in her hair. “I suppose you’re used to this. Your hair’s not easy to resist. I’ve wanted to touch it since the first time I saw it. Do you mind?”
“No.” She wasn’t surprised to find herself in his arms, his mouth on hers. It was an easy kiss, one that comforted rather than stirred. Autumn relaxed with it, and gave back what she could.
“You’ll get some rest?” Steve murmured, holding her to his chest a moment.
“Yes. Yes, I will. Thank you.” She pulled back to look up at him, but her eyes were drawn past him. Lucas stood at the doorway of his room, watching them both. Without speaking, he disappeared inside.
When she was alone, Autumn lay down on the white heirloom bedspread, but sleep wouldn’t come. Her mind ached with fatigue. Her body was numb from it, but sleep, like a spiteful lover, stayed away. Time drifted as her thoughts ran over each member of the group.
She could feel nothing but sympathy for Jacques and the Spicers. She remembered the Frenchman’s eyes when he spoke of his children and could still see Robert protecting his wife as she sobbed. Julia, on the other hand, needed no sympathy. Autumn felt certain the actress could take care of herself; she’d need no supporting arm or soothing words. Steve had also seemed more annoyed than upset by Helen’s threats. He, too, could handle himself, she felt. There was a streak of street sense under the California gloss; he didn’t need Autumn to worry for him.
Lucas was a different matter. Though he had nudged admissions from the rest of them, whatever threat Helen had held over him was still his secret. He had seemed very cool, very composed when he’d spoken of blackmail—but Autumn knew him. He was fully capable of concealing his emotions when there was a purpose to it. He was a hard man. Who knew better than she?
Cruel? Yes, she mused. Lucas could be cruel. She still had the scars attesting to it. But murder? No. Autumn couldn’t picture Lucas plunging something sharp into Helen Easterman. Scissors, she remembered, though she tried hard not to. The scissors that had lain on the floor beside Helen. No, she couldn’t believe him capable of that. She wouldn’t believe him capable of it.
Neither could she rationally believe it of any of the others. Could they all conceal such hate, such ugliness behind their shocked faces and shadowed eyes?
But, of course, one of them was the killer.
Autumn blanked it from her mind. She couldn’t think of it anymore. Not just then. Steve’s prescription was valid—she needed to rest. Yet she rose and walked to the window to stare out at the slow, hateful rain.
The knock at her door vibrated like an explosion. Whirling, she wrapped her arms protectively around her body. Her heart pounded while her throat dried up with fear. Stop it! she ordered herself. No one has any cause to hurt you.
“Yes, come in.” The calmness of her own voice brought her relief. She was hanging on.
Robert entered. He looked so horribly weary and stricken, Autumn automatically reached out to him. She thought no more of fear. He clasped her hands and squeezed once, hard.
“You need food,” he stated as he searched her face. “It shows in the face first.”
“Yes, I know. My delicate hollows become craters very quickly.” She made her own search. “You could use some yourself.”
He sighed. “I believe you’re one of those rare creatures who is inherently kind. I apologize for my wife.”
“No, don’t.” His sigh had been long and broken. “She didn’t mean it. We’re all upset. This is a nightmare.”
“She’s been under a lot of strain. Before . . .” He broke off and shook his head. “She’s sleeping now. Your head”—he brushed the hair from her forehead to examine the colorful bruise—“is it giving you any trouble?”
“No, none. I’m fine.” The mishap seemed like some ridiculous comic relief in the midst of a melodrama now. “Can I help you, Robert?”
Hi
s eyes met hers, once, desperately, then moved away. “That woman put Jane through hell. If I’d just known, I would have put a stop to it long ago.” Anger overpowered his weariness and he turned to prowl the room. “She tormented her, drained every drop of money Jane could raise. She played on a sickness, encouraging Jane to gamble to meet the payments. I knew nothing about it! I should have. Yesterday, Jane told me herself and I was going to enjoy dealing with the Easterman woman this morning.” Autumn saw the soft, gentle hands clench into fists. “God help me, that’s the only reason I’m sorry she’s dead.”
“Robert . . .” She wasn’t certain what to say, how to deal with this side of his character. “Anyone would feel the same way,” she said carefully. “She was an evil woman. She hurt someone you love.” Autumn watched the fingers in his left hand relax, one at a time. “It isn’t kind, but none of us will mourn her. Perhaps no one will. I think that’s very sad.”
He turned back and focused on her again. After a moment, he seemed to pull himself back under control. “I’m sorry you’re caught up in this.” With the anger gone from his eyes, they were vulnerable. “I’m going to go check on Jane. Will you be all right?”
“Yes.”
She watched him go, then sank down into a chair. Each different crisis drained her. If possible, she was wearier now than before. When did the madness start? Only a few days ago she’d been safe in her apartment in Manhattan. She’d never met any of these people who were tugging at her now. Except one.
Even as she thought of him, Lucas strode in through the door. He stalked over to her, stared down and frowned.
“You need to eat,” he said abruptly. Autumn thought of how tired she was of hearing that diagnosis. “I’ve been watching the pounds drop off you all day. You’re already too thin.”
“I adore flattery.” His arrogant entrance and words boosted her flagging energy. She didn’t have to take abuse from Lucas McLean anymore. “Don’t you know how to knock?”
“I’ve always appreciated the understatedness of your body, Cat. You remember.” He pulled her to her feet, then molded her against him. Her eyes flashed with quick temper. “Anderson seems to have discovered the charm as well. Did it occur to you that you might have been kissing a murderer?”
He spoke softly while his hand caressed her back. His eyes were mocking her. Her temper snapped at the strain of fighting her need for him.
“One might be holding me now.”
He tightened his fingers on her hair so that she cried out in surprise. The mockery was replaced by a burning, terrifying rage. “You’d like to believe that, wouldn’t you? You’d like to see me languishing in prison or, better yet, dangling from the end of a rope.” She would have shaken her head, but his grip on her hair made movement impossible. “Would that be suitable punishment for my rejecting you, Cat? How deep is the hate? Deep enough to pull the lever yourself?”
“No, Lucas. Please, I didn’t mean—”
“The hell you didn’t.” He cut off her protest. “The thought of me with blood on my hands comes easily to you. You can cast me in the role of murderer, can’t you? Standing over Helen with the scissors in my hand.”
“No!” In defense, she closed her eyes. “Stop it! Please stop it.” He was hurting her now, but not with his hands. The words cut deeper.
He lowered his voice in a swift change of mood. Ice ran down Autumn’s back. “I could have used my hands and been more tidy.” A strong, lean-fingered hand closed around her throat. Her eyes flew open.
“Lucas—”
“Very simple and no mess,” he went on, watching her eyes widen. “Quick enough, too, if you know what to do. More my style. More—as you put it—direct. Isn’t that right?”
“You’re only doing this to frighten me.” Her breath was trembling in and out of her lungs. It was as if he were forcing her to think the worst of him, wanting her to think him capable of something monstrous. She’d never seen him like this. His eyes were black with fury while his voice was cold, so cold. She shivered. “I want you to leave, Lucas. Leave right now.”
“Leave?” He slid his hand from her throat to the back of her neck. “I don’t think so, Cat.” His face inched closer. “If I’m going to hang for murder, I’d best take what consolation I can while I have the chance.”
His mouth closed fast over hers. She struggled against him, more frightened than she’d been when she’d turned on the light in Helen’s room. She could only moan; movement was impossible when he held her this close. He slipped a hand under her sweater to claim her breast with the swift expertise of experience. Heart thudded madly against heart.
“How can anyone so skinny be so soft?” he murmured against her mouth. The words he’d spoken so often in the past brought more agony than she could bear. The hunger from him was thunderous; he was like a man who had finally broken free of his tether. “My God, how I want you.” The words were torn from him as he ravaged her neck. “I’ll be damned if I’ll wait any longer.”
They sank onto the bed. With all the strength that remained, she flailed out against him. Pinning her arms to her sides, Lucas stared down at her with a wild kind of fury. “Bite and scratch all you want, Cat. I’ve reached my limit.”
“I’ll scream, Lucas.” The words shuddered out of her. “If you touch me again, I’ll scream.”
“No, you won’t.”
His mouth was on hers, proving him right and her wrong. His body molded to hers with bittersweet accuracy. She arched once in defense, in desperation, but his hands were roaming, finding all the secret places he’d discovered over three years before. There was no resisting him. The wild, reckless demand that had always flavored his lovemaking left her weak. He knew too much of her. Autumn knew, before his fingers reached the snap of her jeans, that she couldn’t prevent her struggles from becoming demands. When his mouth left hers to roam her neck, she didn’t scream, but moaned with the need he had always incited in her.
He was going to win again, and she would do nothing to stop him. Tears welled, then spilled from her eyes as she knew he’d soon discover her pitiful, abiding love. Even her pride, it seemed, again belonged to him.
Lucas stopped abruptly. All movement ceased when he drew back his head to stare down at her. She thought, through her blurred vision, that she saw some flash of pain cross his face before it became still and emotionless. Lifting a hand, he caught a teardrop on his fingertip. With a swift oath, he lifted his weight from her.
“No, I won’t be responsible for this again.” Turning, he stalked to the window and stared out.
Sitting up, Autumn lowered her face to her knees and fought against the tears. She’d promised herself he’d never see her cry again. Not over him. Never over him. The silence stretched on for what seemed an eternity.
“I won’t touch you like this again,” he said quietly. “You have my word, for what it’s worth.”
Autumn thought she heard him sigh, long and deep, before his footsteps crossed to her. She didn’t look up, but only squeezed her eyes closed.
“Autumn, I . . . oh, sweet God.” He touched her arm, but she only curled herself tighter into a ball in defense.
The room fell silent again. The dripping rain seemed to echo into it. When Lucas spoke again, his voice was harsh and strained. “When you’ve rested, get something to eat. I’ll have your aunt send up a tray if you’re not down for dinner. I’ll see that no one disturbs you.”
She heard him leave, heard the quiet click of her door. Alone, she kept curled in her ball as she lay down. Ultimately, the storm of tears induced sleep.
Chapter 9
It was dark when Autumn awoke, but she was not refreshed. The sleep had been only a temporary relief. Nothing had changed while she had slept. But no, she thought as she glanced around the room. She was wrong. Something had changed. It was quiet. Really quiet. Rising, she walked to the window. She could see the moon and a light scattering of stars. The rain had stopped.
In the dim light, she moved to the ba
throom and washed her face. She wasn’t certain she had the courage to look in the mirror. She let the cold cloth rest against her eyes for a long time, hoping the swelling wasn’t as bad as it felt. She felt something else as well. Hunger. It was a healthy sign, she decided. A normal sign. The rain had stopped and the nightmare was going to end. And now she was going to eat.
Her bare feet didn’t disturb the silence that hung over the inn. She was glad of it. She wanted food now, not company. But when she passed the lounge, she heard the murmur of voices. She wasn’t alone after all. Julia and Jacques were silhouetted by the window. Their conversation was low and urgent. Before she could melt back into the shadows, Julia turned and spotted her. The conversation ceased abruptly.
“Oh, Autumn, you’ve surfaced. We thought we’d seen the last of you until morning.” She glided to her, then slipped a friendly arm around her waist. “Lucas wanted to send up a tray, but Robert outranked him. Doctor’s orders were to let you sleep until you woke up. You must be famished. Let’s see what your Aunt Tabby left for you.”
Julia was doing all the talking, and quite purposefully leading Autumn away. A glance showed her that Jacques was still standing by the window, unmoving. Autumn let it go, too hungry to object.
“Sit down, darling,” Julia ordered as she steered Autumn into the kitchen. “I’m going to fix you a feast.”
“Julia, you don’t have to fix me anything. I appreciate it, but—”
“Now let me play mother,” Julia interrupted, pressing down on Autumn’s shoulder until she sat. “You’re past the sticky-finger stage, so I really quite enjoy it.”