by Lyn Horner
“Mama, don’t blame yourself. We don’t know how the Hellhounds found us.”
Her mother shook her head and her lips quivered, but she managed to control her emotions. “Is our girl alright?” she asked, smiling at Marilee and patting her mittened hand.
“I was cold,” the adolescent replied in a young child’s voice, with a dramatic shiver for emphasis. “Now I’m scared.”
“Me too,” Char and her mother said at the same time, making Marilee giggle.
“But Tristan and Conn will protect us,” Char told her. Notwithstanding her reassuring words, she leaned forward and tapped Lara’s shoulder. “Do you still sense danger?”
The High Guardian shot her a worried glance. “Yes, they’re out there somewhere.”
Char sat back, heart pounding. “Mama, is your, uh, protection handy?”
“It sure is, honey.” Patting her trusty handbag, her mother said, “The only way those dang Hellhounds will get to you is over my dead body.”
“Mama! Don’t even joke about that,” Char hissed. Behind her, she heard Tristan chuckle. Twisting in her seat, she glared at him. “It’s not funny.”
“Sorry, but your mama is a firecracker.”
“Why, thank you, young man,” her mother said over her shoulder. “See that you remember that as long as you’re with my daughter.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Tristan waggled his eyebrows at Char and grinned. Then he turned his head to stare out the back window.
“Conn, there’s a white sedan behind us. See it?”
“Yeah, it showed up shortly after we left the restaurant.”
“I know. I’ll keep an eye on it. Why don’t you drive past the estate a ways. Let’s see if the guy turns off somewhere.”
“Gotcha.”
They all sat tense and silent. Char glanced over her shoulder now and then and, although dusk was near, she, too, saw the white car behind them.
“He’s turning off,” Tristan announced at long last.
Char sighed in relief. “That’s good news.”
“Maybe,” Tristan said. “Or maybe he got wise to us and decided to throw us off his scent, make us think we’re safe.”
“But we’re not.” Char’s stomach knotted at the realization.
“Nope.” He laid a comforting hand on her shoulder, but dread clung to her like a smothering blanket.
Pulling onto the shoulder, Conn waited for passing traffic to clear then executed a sharp u-turn. As he drove back to the estate, he gripped Lara’s hand. “How are you, darlin’? Still picking up danger signals?”
“No, the feeling faded a few moments ago.”
“After that car turned off?”
Lara nodded. “Yes, I’m afraid Tristan is right. The driver and those with him – the Hellhounds wouldn’t send just one man – meant to lull us into a false sense of security.”
“In which case, we haven’t seen the last of them.”
Listening to their exchange, Char clutched her throat, sick with fear for all of them, especially Marilee. If she hadn’t invaded the girl’s life, needing someone to care for and a place to hide where others’ emotions couldn’t drive her mad, the innocent, helpless girl would be safe right now. Guilt washed through her. Clenching her fists, she closed her eyes and begged Danu, the great Goddess, to shelter Marilee from harm.
Arriving at Cantrell House, Conn parked outside the front entrance facing the driveway. So they could make a quick getaway if necessary, he said.
Marilee had fallen asleep in the car. Tristan gathered her in his arms and carried her inside. “You want me to take her up to her room?” he asked Char as the others trouped in behind them.
“Yes. I’ll be right there.” As he started up the stairs, she closed and locked the heavy door and armed the security system. “Make yourselves comfortable,” she called to her mother, Lara and Conn. Then she dashed after Tristan. He switched on the overhead light in Marilee’s room just as she caught up with them.
“Let me turn down the bed and take her coat off before you lay her down,” she said quietly.
“Sure. Poor kid is exhausted.” Gently shifting his cousin this way and that to help Char remove her coat, he added, “So are you, I’m guessing.”
“Yes, well, we’ve had a busy day. Okay, you can put her down now.”
Lowering his cousin onto the pink-clad bed, he asked, “You need help with the rest?” He pointed at the girl’s frilly dress.
“No, I can handle it.” She smiled at him. “Thank you. Tell the others I’ll be down as soon as I settle her for the night.”
“Will do, but first … .” He closed the gap between them and took her in his arms, causing her breath to catch. “I’ve wanted to do this in private ever since we kissed in front of them.” Bending his head, he seized her lips with a scorching kiss, shooting fire through her veins and turning her legs to jelly. She was clinging to him by the time he lifted his head. “Later, sweetheart, I plan to kiss every inch of you.”
He left her standing there, swaying drunkenly. She had to stumble to the bed and sit for several moments until her legs were strong enough to support her while she prepared Marilee for the night. Making her way downstairs a short time later, she paused to collect herself before entering the living room.
She found her mother and Lara seated on the couch. Tristan stood at the wide front window, arms crossed and back to the room, watching for lights or movement in the darkness, she realized. Conn had planted himself by the room’s massive fireplace, one arm leaning on the mantle while he gazed into flames dancing on the hearth. Had he started the fire or had Tristan, Char wondered. Not that it mattered.
They all turned her way when she walked in. Avoiding Tristan’s eyes for fear of blushing as red as a tomato, she took a seat on the nearest chair. Clearing her throat, she said, “Marilee is tucked in. She probably won’t wake up until morning.”
“Just as well,” Conn said. “She’ll need a good night’s sleep because we’re leaving here early tomorrow, and she’ll have to come with us. There’s no other choice.”
“I know.” Resigned to the inevitable, Char rubbed her tired eyes. “But where will we take her? As I already explained, we can’t haul her around the country. It could kill her.”
“How about her mother’s penthouse?” Tristan suggested. “Is there someone there, like a maid, who might be able to care for her until Johanna returns?”
Char shrugged. “I don’t know but I doubt it.”
“Why don’t we save this discussion for morning,” Conn said. “We have to make it through the night first. Ladies, you’d best get some sleep. Tristan, you and I should take turns keeping watch.”
“I agree. I’ll take first watch,” Tristan said, smiling ruefully at Char.
Conn waved away his offer. “Naw, let me. I couldn’t sleep now if I tried.”
Tristan didn’t argue. “If that’s what you want, it’s fine by me.” The smile he sent Char this time was full of ardent promise, making her heart flutter with anticipation.
But first things first, she thought, tearing her gaze away from him. “Mama, Lara, there are several guest rooms upstairs. A cleaning lady comes once a week and she keeps them ready just in case Mrs. Cantrell should ever invite friends out here.” She rose and beckoned them toward the hall. “Let’s take the elevator up,” she said, thinking it would be easier for Lara.
Her mother didn’t budge. “What about you, Tristan?” she asked, flashing him a perfectly innocent look. “Do you want to come along and choose a bedroom, or do you already know where you’ll be sleeping?”
Char choked on an indrawn breath. She coughed and glanced wildly at Tristan as hot color filled her cheeks. He remained calm and collected, the devil!
“As a matter of fact, ma’am, I do have a sleeping place picked out,” he said with a genial smile. “But thanks for thinking of me.”
Mama nodded, lips twitching. “You’re quite welcome, my boy. Please call me Penelope. Good night now.”
r /> “Good night, Penelope.” When her mother turned away, he grinned and winked at Char, nearly making her burst out laughing as she led the other women down the hall to the elevator.
*
“I expect you will want to give them a few minutes to settle in before you join Charlotte,” Conn said drolly, ambling toward where Tristan stood in the entry, listening to the elevator hum on its way to the second floor.
Crossing his arms, Tristan cocked an eyebrow at him. “You expect right.”
“Good, because we need to talk.”
“About what?”
Conn scratched his bristly jaw. “Look, I’ve dealt with some of these Hellhounds before. They’re crazy as hell and they’ll do anything to get what they want. We need a plan if we’re to defend the women in this rambling stone pile, and I’ve got an idea. Come on, there’s something I want to show you.”
Wondering what he had in mind, Tristan accompanied him to Marilee’s playroom. “Your idea involves toys and watching cartoons?” he prodded.
The other man chuckled as he switched on the lights. ”Sort of. Your pretty little cousin showed me this earlier. She said it’s a secret but I’m her best friend, so she wanted me to see it.”
“What are you talking about?” Tristan demanded, miffed to hear Marilee considered this guy, a virtual stranger, to be her best friend instead of himself. Or Char, for God’s sake, who loved the kid more than her own self-absorbed mother ever had.
“Hang on.” Striding to the far end of the room, Conn pulled a large pink and white toy box away from the wall. “If we get trapped in this big old barn, this could save us, or at least the ladies.”
Frowning, Tristan walked closer, watching the man run his hand along the wall – paneled in twelve-inch carved wood squares, painted pink – as if searching for something. His cop’s instinct kicked in. “Don’t tell me you found a hidden bolt-hole.”
“No, like I said, Marilee showed it to me.” Conn stopped abruptly, pushed on the corner of one square and stood back as part of the wall opened outward.
“What do you know!” Tristan gaped at the black cavity revealed behind the secret door. “All these years and I never knew that was there.”
Conn chuckled at his reaction. “Want to take a look inside?” He dug a small flashlight from his pants pocket and clicked it on.
Nodding mutely, Tristan followed his guide through the opening into the shadowy space. “The space is pretty narrow, only four or five feet wide,” he remarked.
“I noticed.” Conn swung his flashlight back and forth through the gloom. “But it appears to run the length of the playroom. Marilee told me her daddy showed her this before he went away,” Conn said. “I presume she meant before he died.”
Tristan nodded. “He died a few years ago. But why would Lucas Cantrell need a secret room and why show it to his daughter?”
“He told her she should hide in here if bad men ever came. The guy must have been rich to own a mansion like this. Maybe he made enemies while acquiring his fortune, I don’t know, but I doubt he had the false wall installed. This house is pretty old, built before Prohibition, I bet.”
“True, and I see where you’re going. I’ve heard this place has a seamy history supposedly involving gangsters and wild parties back in the Roaring Twenties. You think the wall was added then to provide a hiding place in case of a police raid, right?”
“That’s my best guess. Let’s get out of here and talk about how we can put it to use if the Hellhounds show up.”
Tristan blinked fast, eyes adjusting as he stepped into the brightly lighted playroom. Helping Conn close the secret door and push Marilee’s toy box back in place, he said, “Speaking of the Hellhounds, why do they want the scrolls Char, Lara and the other Guardians protect? What makes the scrolls so valuable?”
Brushing off his hands, Conn glanced at him and frowned. “It’s not up to me to explain. Charlotte is the one to answer your questions – when she wants to. The important thing right now is keeping our women safe if trouble starts.”
Respecting his wishes, Tristan didn’t pursue the matter. They spent a few minutes discussing what steps to take if and when the Hellhounds tried to bust in. Then he headed upstairs to spend a few precious hours with Char, until it was his turn to stand watch.
*
Char sat up in bed, clutching the covers over her bare breasts, when Tristan slipped quietly into her room. She’d left the small bedside lamp on so he could see, and the light enabled her to watch him pull his shirt off as he approached. The sight of his broad, firmly muscled chest made her pulse leap and her breath quicken.
“Hi, angel. Sorry I didn’t join you sooner. Conn wanted to talk over what to do in case we have unwanted visitors.”
A tremor of fear shook her. “You’re here now and I don’t want to think about anything bad happening. Just come to bed and make love to me,” she pleaded, lying back.
“You got it, honey.” Swiftly kicking off his shoes and snaking out of his pants, he caused her blood to race and wetness to gather between her thighs at the sight of his eager erection. He slid into bed and turned on his side facing her. “Come here,” he hoarsely commanded.
She scooted close and his arms enfolded her, pressing her to him, skin to skin. His chest pillowed her breasts, his rigid penis nestled against her belly, and one knee parted her legs. His solid thigh rubbed her nexus of pleasure, plucking at her senses, bringing a soft gasp from her lips just before his mouth hungrily invaded hers.
Arms locked around his neck, she fiercely returned his passionate kiss, moaning into his mouth as his hands traveled up and down her back. Her empathic ability absorbed his need for her, mingling with hers for him, drowning out all other emotions.
Finally dragging his lips from hers, he murmured in her ear, “You’re as sweet as the Christmas cookies that brought us together, angel. I want to eat you up, every last bit of you.” And that’s exactly what he did starting at her throat and working his way down her body, taking his time, teasing her until she writhed beneath his hands and mouth, desperate for the release only he could give.
“Please, Tristan, stop … torturing me,” she begged, clutching at his hair. “Take me now!”
He chuckled against her moist, overheated flesh. “I’ll be glad to, sweetheart, if you stop yanking on my hair.”
“Oh! I-I’m sorry.” She freed him, grabbing fistfuls of the bed sheet instead.
“Don’t apologize, baby. It didn’t hurt much, and I love driving you crazy.” Pushing upward over her, he gazed down at her through desire-hazed eyes. “But I love being inside you even more.” Slipping a hand under her bottom, he lifted, positioned himself and thrust into her slick passage, filling her completely, driving a choked cry from her throat.
Pulling out most of the way, he slowly pushed into her again. She dug her hands into his back and held on as he gradually quickened the pace. Matching him stroke for stroke, she panted and arched her back, her pleasure magnified by his. He captured the crown of one breast in his mouth and drew on it strongly. She cried out again, louder this time. Then she covered her mouth, biting her hand to keep from waking Marilee. The pleasure built as Tristan tormented her breasts and trust into her faster and faster.
She shattered, smothering a shriek at the starburst of bliss. A second later, Tristan let go a strangled groan as he reached his own peak. Riding the fading aftershocks of her release, Char clung to him as he slowly collapsed onto her. His weight forced her to breathe shallowly, but she didn’t mind. On the contrary, she loved the feel of him in her arms and the absolute contentment he exuded. His temporary weakness made her want to protect him.
“I’m crushing you,” he muttered after a moment. Raising himself, he withdrew from her and rolled to his side, bringing her with him. Kissing her lightly, he snuggled her against him with her head on his shoulder, her favorite place to be.
Except beneath him when he was thrusting into her, taking her to paradise, she corrected herself wit
h a smug little smile.
They lay content for a while, until Tristan’s concern for her came to the fore of his drowsy thoughts, invading her mind. With it came fear, and she realized its cause. Tilting her head back, she gazed up at him. “I know what you’re feeling, Tristan.”
He opened one eye, meeting her gaze, and smiled. “Yeah? What am I feeling?”
“Fear. You’re afraid of loving and losing me the same as you lost Jennifer. I don’t want to cause you that kind of fear and pain.” Ignoring the agony caused by what she was thinking, she said, “Maybe it would be best if we end this now.”
His smile dropped into a scowl. “No way,” he said flatly. Shifting her onto her back, he rose on one elbow above her. “I told you I’m with you for now and always. Unless you’ve decided you don’t want me, and we both know that’s not the case.”
Flooded with relief by his swift, reassuring reaction, she smiled and traced a random pattern through his chest hair with her finger. “No, it’s not, but I have my own fears.”
“And what are those?”
She hesitated, but he had a right to know. “For you to understand, I need to tell you about my parents.” Sighing, she began, “They met at a county fair. Mama said Pa was a real charmer in those days. He swept her off her feet. She married him three weeks later, before telling him about her empathic ability. When he eventually found out about it, he went crazy. He was raised among superstitious mountain folk and he thought Mama was a witch. After that, he came and went, often staying away for weeks or months at a time.”
“They had you, though. Didn’t he care about his own daughter?”
Char shrugged and smiled crookedly. “Maybe at first, but not later when he realized I had inherited my mother’s gift. He turned to drink and became abusive toward both of us. Every time he left, I dreaded his next return.”
“What did he do to you?” Tristan asked gruffly.
Evading his intense gaze, she rolled her head to the side. “He hit Mama a lot and me a few times. Then he took to locking me in the root cellar. He’d leave me there for hours, sometimes overnight. It was cold and dark. I thought I’d suffocate down there.” She trembled at the terrifying memory.