by Crymsyn Hart
She wasn’t sure she liked the idea of him seeing her naked, but he had already undressed her. Cool air caressed her when Drake pulled back the covers. She tried to sit up, but even the slightest movement made her head spin. Although the calling to use the facilities was stronger than her head twisting around. She bit her tongue and fought everything until she planted her feet on the floor, only to find it was cold. She nearly curled her feet back up underneath her, but she forced herself through it and opened the garment he had given her. The shirt was made with soft fabric, cotton, she assumed, and she slipped it over her body. Her hands shook when she tried to button it. Savanna was able to get it over her breasts, but it didn’t go all over her stomach. She hated that she hadn’t kept up going to the gym. It had gone to the wayside, but she did intend to get into shape. Her weight was something of a lifelong fight. Being partially covered was better than nothing. She kept her eyes closed and he wrapped his arm around her waist. Drake led her a few feet until they stopped again.
“Just go straight ahead. Are you hungry?”
“A little. Although I don’t know how much I can eat.”
“I’ll put something on and we can see.”
“Thanks.” She went into bathroom and stood for a moment, feeling the world shift as though she would keel over. Before she did, Savanna grabbed onto the sink. Using her hands, she found the toilet. Once Savanna was done, she opened her eyes and discovered it was dark enough, with only a small sliver of light that she was able to tolerate. It wasn’t much to see by, but it gave her a bit of perspective. Savanna saw her scratched her face in the faint darkness. She gripped the sink and knew it was time to sit back down.
Savanna clutched the doorjamb and took two deep breaths to brace herself for the slicing of the light that would assail her eyeballs. However, when she stepped back into the main room, the light was low enough it didn’t hurt. The fire had died down. She made out the man who had rescued her as he stood by the hearth. With the low light his form was silhouetted in shadow. He was tall, even though he appeared to be slouching. Drake was muscular as well. His clothes stretched over his frame. If the room hadn’t started spinning, then she would have peered further into the shadows. She tried to move toward him, but stumbled. Drake rushed forward and caught her, leading her back to the bed. He helped her down and sat beside her on the bed. His hand rested on her thigh and his fingers trailed along her flesh for a brief moment. She shivered, and a tingle seared her nerves.
“You need to be careful. Your head.” He stood up and retrieved something in the corner.
Drake brought a cup back to her. It smelled like chicken. After a couple of sips, she couldn’t stomach any more. “Thanks, but here. I can’t.” She handed it back to him.
“Lost your appetite?”
“Yes. My head.”
He set the cup on a small, bedside table and flashed her a smile. “You need to lie down. Tomorrow the weather should be calm enough so we can bring you back to the mainland and get to a doctor.”
“How do we do that?”
“There’s a boat. The nearest phone is at the Blackmores. There’s a walkway across the rocks. I think it will be quickest.”
“Really? I’ve never seen one.”
“Not many realize it’s there. I’ll show you.”
“Thank you. I’m sure you’ll be happy to be rid of me and get your bed back.”
“It’s not a problem. Just be glad I was here to rescue you. Now get some sleep.”
She nodded and snuggled underneath the covers. Once the warmth enveloped her, she stared at the coals. Their orange glow whispered to her the longer she gazed at them. This wasn’t the first time she thought she heard them talking, but who would believe that if she ever admitted it? Has to be the bump on the head. Savanna watched their radiance until her eyes drooped and she fell asleep, dreaming about great flying beasts.
Chapter Four
Wyeth dragged his arm across his forehead, wiping the sweat from his skin. He had not slept much the night before, or the night before that, with the storm battering the house. It seemed the wind and the rain tried to knock down the very stones that held up the manor. Listening to the maelstrom for the past two nights had kept him up, but his dreams had been filled with great beasts that flew the skies. All he could dream of were dragons, but that was impossible. Maybe some bad takeout had resulted in the nightmare that had plagued him.
Wyeth decided to get to work early again, tearing through the house and throwing away some of the stuff that had deteriorated from rodents nesting in it. A lot more furniture and other things had to be thrown out before he could start renovations. His guys were due to come in tomorrow to start looking at what would need replacing. He might have been able to lift a sledgehammer, demolish a few walls, build some steps, or frame wall, but he needed the structural engineer, the plumber, the electrician, and a few others to tell him about the state of the house.
He grabbed a bottle of water and went out on the balcony. The world appeared different than it had with the storm darkening it. Now it was bright and new. The lighthouse was weatherworn in the light. Birds nestled on the cliffs of the other islands. Wyeth sipped the water and enjoyed the breeze caressing his face and the perfume of the sea. To his left he could see the tourists strolling along the ocean walk that hugged the coast for a couple of miles. His property was just beyond the end of the trail. The rest of the path meandered next to a large resort hotel by the wharf in town. The other mansions had been built back when the sea captains grew rich off their catches and decided to settle on the island. Most of the manors remained in the same families and had not been turned into bed and breakfasts. Tourist season was almost over, and the town would return to its quiet atmosphere. Then Wyeth could focus on his regular clients.
When he looked toward the cliffs, two people were traversing over the rocks. It appeared they walked across the water and were getting closer. Wyeth sipped on the water and realized they came from the lighthouse. He had never known there was a footpath from the lighthouse to the cliffs. The man assisted the woman. They got to the rock face and climbed upward.
Wyeth peered over the balcony and saw them. The man had his head down. He was wearing a light, black coat and worn jeans. The woman seemed shaky. Her hair glinted red in the sunlight, mixed with streaks of gold and brown. It reminded him of an autumn sunset. She wore a red blouse and a black skirt that billowed in the wind. The man had his hand wrapped around her waist as she lolled back and forth.
“Hey,” Wyeth called down.
The man stopped and glanced around, but continued a few more steps with the woman leaning on him. Wyeth wasn’t sure they heard him.
“Hello, do you need any help?” He studied the wrought iron staircase that somehow bolted into the rock. It had appeared and clung to the rock like magic, the same with the walkway, because it wasn’t there the night before when he had been out in the storm.
This time the man met his gaze. His green eyes were so bright that Wyeth nearly lost himself in them. Something stirred in him that he wasn’t used to feeling. He broke from his stare, and it dawned on him that Wyeth had seen this man before. He had been at his father’s funeral. Before he could say anything, the woman met his eyes. Her eyes were deep brown, like melted chocolate, and stirred something else within Wyeth. An air of mystery surrounded her.
“Blackmore,” the man barked.
“Yes. That’s me. Who are you?” Wyeth wondered why this man was assisting this woman and why he had been at the cemetery.
“Drake. We need to use your phone and call for help for this woman. She suffered a horrible concussion.”
“I’m fine,” the woman muttered.
Drake. His brows lifted when he heard the gruff voice. Now he realized why he had seen the other man at his father’s funeral. This was one of the family who had been a thorn in the side of the Blackmore line. Whenever an event in his family occurred, a Drake knew it whether it was a birth, a death, or even a marriage. M
aybe he’s here because he knows I’m redoing the house, and he wants to have a say in it. What will it take for our families to separate? How did Drake know about the stairs and the walkway?
“Are you going to let us in so we can call for help for her instead of staring over the railing like a dullard,” Drake growled.
Wyeth gritted his teeth and muttered under his breath. He raced from the balcony to open the front door. Drake met him and had his arm supporting the woman. Wyeth took them over to the nearest chair, and the woman collapsed into it. She leaned back and closed her eyes. He studied her for a minute. Even though she was not his type, an aura about her drew his gaze back to her. Her hair fell in waves over her shoulders to her waist. She had average sized breasts, enough for a handful, but not too much. The top two buttons were open on her shirt so he could see her red satin bra.
“Do you have a phone, or are you going to ogle her?”
“Sorry,” he murmured. His cheeks burned from being caught. He dug into his back pocket and pulled out his cell. He wiped the screen on his jeans and handed it over to Drake. “Here. Satisfied?”
The woman placed a hand on his arm. Her nails were short and bitten. Various gemstone rings adorned her fingers. Underneath the sleeve on her right arm he spied some sort of tattoo on her wrist. He glanced at her and saw the exasperation in her gaze.
“I don’t need to go to the doctor. I’m fine. My head hurts, but I don’t need you to call 911 as Drake keeps insisting.”
Drake grabbed for the phone, but Wyeth pulled it back. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“She needs to go to the doctor.” Drake crossed his arms over his chest.
“No. I don’t. The only reason I needed your help was because I was a little dizzy, and you said the walkway was slippery. I still can’t believe it was there. I’ve never seen it before, and I’ve looked at the lighthouse all my life. The same with those steps.”
“They’ve always been there.” Drake snatched for the phone, but Wyeth kept it from him.
No matter how much the man protested, Wyeth knew that the walkway and stairs weren’t there before. “No, they haven’t been, Drake. So cut the shit.”
The other man stepped closer and gnashed his teeth at him like an angry dog and growled. “I said they’ve always been there. Why don’t you just accept that?”
His fury nearly got the better of him. The woman placed a hand on his arm and his rage drained away.
“Guys, it doesn’t matter. Really. Mr. Blackmore, thanks for letting us in to use your phone. I’ve been a burden to Drake enough. If you could just give me a ride home, I’ll be fine.”
“You need medical atten—”
Savanna put her hand up. “Enough. You’ve warned me enough. I’m not going to sue you for being a Good Samaritan, Drake. Please, can’t you just take me back home? I want to sleep in my own bed. I’ll have someone come over and watch me for another night. Happy?” she said to Drake.
Wyeth tried to swallow his laughter at seeing Drake handled by the woman. It was obvious he was used to getting his own way and not having people question him. “I can give you a ride home, ahh... sorry, I didn’t catch your name earlier.”
She glanced at him. “Savanna.”
“Right. Savanna, I can give you a ride back to your place. Does that satisfy you, Drake?” Wyeth asked. His name sat heavy on Wyeth’s tongue. Questions bombarded his mind as to what the man was doing at his father’s funeral. If there was something to talk about, then why hadn’t he come sooner? As much as it left a bad taste in his mouth, maybe there was a chance they could start unwinding their history.
The other man gripped the back of the chair until the wood protested under the force of his hold. His mouth was set in a tight line. “Fine.”
Savanna touched Drake’s arm. He jumped, but her touch seemed to calm him. Wyeth wondered if the woman, or Drake, realized it. “Thank you for saving my life. I don’t know how to repay you.”
“No thanks needed. Don’t worry about it. Blackmore, I’ll be back. We have to discuss some things now that your father has passed on.”
“Sounds wonderful. I’ll be seeing you then.” He raised his hand in farewell and watched the other man walk out of the house, but not before Drake glanced at Savanna once more. At least he could get one thing out of the way and didn’t have to track Drake down again. An awkward silence grew between them. He flashed her a smile that she returned. Wyeth flipped his phone over and over again in his hand trying to think of something to say. “So, I guess I should take you home.”
“That would be great. Drake said the nearest phone was here because he didn’t have one in the lighthouse.”
“He’s right. Do you know how long he’s going to be at the lighthouse?” Wyeth wanted to know why the man was at the lighthouse in the first place. From what he understood, a few keepers relieved one another, and they were paid out of a fund supplied by his family and the Drakes, but maybe he was wrong.
“Sorry, I woke up there after being tossed overboard from the ship I was doing readings on.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m a psychic. I was hired to do a bridal shower, but they were more interested in the stripper.”
Psychic. Great. She’s a fruit loop, and now I’m stuck with her. He forced a smile and raked his fingers through his hair. “So, I guess we should go.”
* * * *
Savanna sat in the seat across from the second hottest guy she had met since she had been rescued. She knew the uncomfortable silence between them was brought on by the circumstances of their meeting and her confessing what her profession was. It had happened to her more times than she could actually count. Once people learned she was a psychic, she immediately fell into the batty category. The first question out of people’s mouths was that she must peer into a large crystal ball. Of course that was the first stereotype. The next was that she, besides being a crackpot, was a fraud and swindled people out of money. No matter how much Savanna protested against that, people never accepted she wasn’t duping her clients. Which typecast is going through his head? It was tough to tell the way he kept looking straight at the road and not at her. He had completely shut down. At least Drake hadn’t tuned her out when she told him what she did for a living.
Drake was indifferent to her occupation. Actually, it was one of the stranger reactions she had gotten. He had been nice to talk with, and it seemed he generally cared about her wellbeing. Blackmore seemed to care for her well-being only as a human and had no vested interest in her personally. Which was fine. She could tell he was antsy about getting her out of his car. She wanted to collapse in her own bed. Please, don’t let Chastity be home. I can’t deal with her prattling on. Savanna’s head still hurt. Her memory was a blur about how she got off the boat. Her body ached like she’d been hit by a cement truck and then had a pallet of cinder blocks dropped on her.
At least it hadn’t been a house.
“So... Mr. Blackmore, I appreciate you giving me a ride.”
He glanced at her quickly and focused back on the road. Blackmore shifted uncomfortably in the driver’s seat. “You’re welcome. It’s not really a big deal. I needed to get some more supplies for the house.”
“Were you renovating? I saw all the sheets and the lights.”
“Mmmhhmm...yes. I decided to move back in since no one has lived there for almost fifty years. My grandfather was the last person to occupy it. We’ve lived in the guesthouse since I was born.”
“I’ve heard rumors the house is haunted.” Savanna glanced from the window to him, trying to engage him in conversation to pass the time.
He flashed her a crooked but serious smile. “Not haunted, or weren’t you able to pick up anything while you were in the house?”
She gritted her teeth. “Hello, head injury over here, so I wasn’t quite paying attention to the cosmic winds. And for your information, I’m not that kind of psychic. I’ve never professed to be a medium. Actually, I do my best to avoid
spirits unless they’re my spirit guides. Getting involved with ghosts can mess a person up. They can be very dangerous.”
“I’ll have to remember that the next time I hear one say boo in the house or the bed levitates.”
She pressed her nails into her palm. “Please stop the car,” she demanded.
“But you haven’t told me exactly where you live and you—”
“I’m quite capable, thank you very much.” He looked like he wanted to protest, but instead he slowed the car to a stop. Savanna drew in a breath and got out of the vehicle. Her temper flared as she slammed the door and stomped off toward the direction of her apartment. Thankfully, it was a couple of blocks and she could make it. Savanna raised her head, squared her shoulders, and walked away from her ride. She made it a hundred feet or so when she realized that Blackmore was driving slowly beside her. She glanced over at him and the car window rolled down.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Will you get in so I can at least get you home?”
She sighed and heard the sincerity in his tone. Savanna wanted to keep on walking and not give in to the prickles on the back of her hand, the indicator that her instincts were telling her to listen and not be pigheaded. Her head did hurt, and her boots were not made to walk long distances. The tingle traveled more along her hand. Her guides made it clear she should enter the vehicle. She sighed and climbed back in. Savanna slumped into the seat.
“I don’t appreciate you mocking me. You don’t know me, so keep your snarky comments to yourself. I don’t care if you’re from the richest family in this town. Just because I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth like you, doesn’t mean you can be an ass to me.”
“I’m not—”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t want to hear it. I’ve heard it all my life about either my weight or my abilities. Just take me home. Go two blocks, take a right, and then the first left into the apartment complex. I’ll be fine from there.” She stared ahead of her until they came to a stop.