Ian presented himself as neither contrite, nor smug, but committed. He advanced a step.
She retreated a step and he stopped.
"Hugh told me where you live. I stayed in the village last night planning to straighten things out today. Since you won’t take my calls, you left me no choice but to track you down. The delivery boy said you were saddling your horse when he came by. I followed you to the castle on a hunch. The horse and clothes belong to a friend who owns Avalon Farm down the road. The boots are mine. I've had them in my car for awhile." He gave her a small smile and took a deep breath. "I believe that's the sequence of your questions."
"What a convenient place the world is for you, Mr. Cherlein." Maybe if she was unpleasant enough he'd get the message and leave. "Thanks for the information. I'll pass it on to someone who cares."
“Let me explain, please.”
She wouldn’t be dazzled a second time. He wouldn’t humiliate her again.
"There's nothing to explain. Don't bother yourself anymore with the matter. If you'll excuse me, I need get on with my business, so please go. Good day."
Ian didn’t move.
“Perhaps you misunderstand, byeee, adios, au revoir, arrivederci baby.” Four wiggling fingers accompanied the last. Ian slid his hands into his pockets and just watched her.
Miranda didn't budge. She refused to be the first to give ground. She dismissed him. He should go. “Go!”
"I can't do that. I can't leave. I have to talk to you and you have to listen." Ian moved closer, until they were less than arm’s length apart.
The tactic took her choice away. She had to leave. To stay meant the risk of capitulation. She hated herself for being so drawn to him. Compelled to look one last time, she turned to him, angry with her own weakness.
Something was wrong. It wasn't Ian she saw in the courtyard, not the Ian who had spoken with her a moment ago. She gasped. No, she thought. This isn't real.
Ian wore a knight’s armor and sword. She shook her head in disbelief. I'm hallucinating, Miranda told herself without conviction. A shiver went down her spine when the phantom remained. With trepidation, she reached out and expected the apparition to disappear.
Her arm dropped and she backed away as the vision came to life. Moonlight shined down into the courtyard and reflected off his armor. He was speaking to a woman. Their mutual caresses indicated a shared intimacy. Then, they kissed. The face of the woman stayed hidden yet there was a familiarity about her. Mesmerized, Miranda watched Ian and the woman. She knew this moment in some vague way. Déjà vu? They loved each other, she could sense it, touch it, the feeling palpable.
“Ian?”
She blinked. Ian the knight and the woman were gone. Waves of desolation and loss flooded Miranda. With a plaintive moan, she buried her face in her hands.
In the space of a heartbeat, Ian wrapped his arms around her. His lips grazed her cheek and temple, and he held her until the distress passed. Calmer, she stared up at him. A myriad of emotions, love, heartache, loneliness, and joy all rippled through her. More feelings she didn’t understand.
Rattled and confused, now she had the added embarrassment of looking like a crazy person. A problem made worse by the fear she just might truly be crazy. Why the eerie visions? And, why only with Ian?
Miranda let go of her tight hold on Ian and moved, giving herself space. "I apologize. I don't know what came over me.” She spun and tripped, then walked on. “Goodbye."
She heard him following. Miranda quickened her pace to where Zulu stood and hurried to free the reins from the branch. Ian caught up. She quickly mounted, forcing Ian to leap out of the way as she spurred Zulu into a gallop before getting fully seated.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Miranda sank into the saddle and touched her spurs to Zulu’s barrel once more. The light cue was all he needed. Like most thoroughbreds, he loved the faster gait. With each stride, his heavy rear haunches reached further under himself. Rear hooves landed in the imprint the front ones left. Under different circumstances Miranda might've relished the thrill of the gallop too.
Fairly confident she'd outmaneuvered Ian, Miranda relaxed. The respite was short lived as the sound of hoof beats rapidly approaching from behind reached her.
"Unbloody believable," she ground out through gritted teeth. She pulled up hard at the pasture gate and slid out of the saddle, tugging Zulu inside. A loose stirrup banged into her arm and would leave a nasty bruise. She didn't care.
Ian approached the far end of the pasture. Miranda rushed to bolt the gate, confident Ian wouldn’t attempt to jump her fence. Satisfied, she started for the barn with Zulu when a thud sounded. She knew the sound of a heavy horse landing a jump. Ian, the persistent, bloody, devil had leapt her fence.
Miranda kept walking. “You might think twice about dismounting. As soon as my horse is stabled, I'm calling the police."
Ian dismounted and tied his horse to a rail at the side of the barn. He tucked his riding gloves into the waistband of his breeches and followed her inside the barn. He stayed quiet with his shoulder propped against the exterior door while she untacked Zulu and led him to his stall.
She didn't spare Ian a second look as she walked to the house aware he trailed her. She grabbed the kitchen phone and made a great show of calling the police. She hit the on button and held the receiver up so he heard the dial tone and then pressed it to her ear.
"You're acting childish." Ian snatched the cordless from her hand and replaced it in the stand. "There's a very reasonable explanation for what happened last night, and you're going to listen." He clamped his hand around her elbow so she couldn't leave.
Miranda twisted away, but Ian blocked her escape. No matter which way she picked she’d have to circle around him. "It appears I have no choice." She crossed her legs at the ankles and leaned on the sink counter with her hands pressed hard against the tile. If she appeared hard and unreceptive...good. Perverse as it was, a glimmer of hope deep inside her still flickered but damned if she’d let him see how he affected her.
"Mind if I sit?" Ian made himself comfortable. He glanced at the remains of her morning coffee. "You could offer me a cup of coffee." He ignored her dramatic sigh and waited.
Miranda made no attempt to do what he asked. A staring contest resulted. She finally caved. At times obstinacy is rewarded. Ian didn't gloat. He wasn't a fool. His eyes followed her every move as she got a mug from the cabinet. She banged the cupboard door and kept her back to him while microwaving the coffee.
"You're an excellent rider. I'm impressed."
"Thank you.” She appeared to relax for a split second, then stiffened again. “Not that I care if you’re impressed or not."
The momentary softening in her demeanor encouraged him.
“Did you grow up with horses?"
"No, as a matter of fact I had a morbid fear of them most of my life." Miranda popped the microwave open on the first beep. “I decided I wasn't going to let fear get the better of me. So, five years ago I started taking lessons."
His exact words to Elinor, hearing them repeated, Ian flashed back to the day her horse bolted. She’d been so ashamed because she was scared and screamed out. She needed reassurance. He told her she just had to learn not to let her fear get the better of her. His gaze shifted to Miranda. This could’ve been a perfect opportunity to talk about their history if her mood wasn’t so hostile. He had so much he wanted to say and so much he wanted to ask, like how she came to live at Badger Manor.
"Black or white?"
"Black."
Miranda gingerly set the hot cup down and took up her original position.
"Why Ian? Why explain anything about yesterday? What do you care? It was only dinner."
“Miranda--”
"How about I explain it to you in two words? Two words and we'll let it go at that and you leave?" She didn't give him a chance to speak, "You say it was a misunderstanding. I say it’s a case of Mea Culpa."
They weren�
�t the two words he'd expected. Intrigued, Ian folded his arms and sat back. Stretching his legs, he crossed them at the ankle, mimicking her stance. "Mea Culpa?"
"It's Latin for my fault."
"I'm familiar with the term...and the language." He stressed the last in a subtle retort, after all not many people could claim his knowledge of Latin. “Go on.”
"My fault for being stupid. You stroll into my workroom, the sexy, smart, sophisticated scholar and pretend you're interested in me."
"Good alliteration," he interrupted. Her eyes narrowed, and he waited for the fallout from his flip remark.
She surprised him and acknowledged the compliment with a cursory nod. "Idiot that I am, I believed you were sincere. Too gullible to see this is a game you play. You used me to amuse yourself while you awaited the arrival of your girlfriend."
As Miranda waffled on about Jennifer’s arrival, his mind wandered for a minute. Did Elinor jabber this much? He tried to remember. Miranda seemed able to ramble on and on without taking a breath, an amazing ability he conceded. Ian concentrated on her mouth as she berated him. How long could she kiss without taking a breath?
Miranda abruptly stopped.
Ian sipped the coffee and waited to see if she was finished or just refilling her lungs. Her tight-lipped silence continued. A clue. He assumed his chance for rebuttal had come.
"Are you done with your rant?"
"I wasn't ranting."
"Actually, you were darling."
"Don't call me that. I'm not your darling."
"Miranda, Jennifer isn’t my girlfriend and we didn't have a previous commitment last night."
Miranda stared straight ahead. The lack of eye contact made it impossible to judge her reaction.
"I briefly dated Jennifer before I left for Los Angeles. It wasn't serious and definitely not an exclusive relationship, as least not for me. I told her it was over. I guess she thought there was more to it or didn't believe me, who knows?"
Ian took Miranda's hand and pulled her to the chair next to him. He sat her down so they faced each other, knees touching and kept her hands in his while he talked. A brief tug of war ensued as she tried to free them and failed.
"I don't lie Miranda.”
“Not true. Everybody lies. Everybody.”
“You’re right. I stand corrected. But, I’m not lying about this and I’m not lying to you. By everything that's holy, I swear to you I had no idea she was going to show up yesterday."
Ian leaned closer, their foreheads nearly touching. When she didn’t move, he brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers. "I wouldn't do that to you. I wouldn't do that to anyone."
She looked wary. He tried to think of alternative ways to win her trust if she didn't accept his honest explanation.
"If you dumped Jennifer, why did she come to the studio and tell our security you expected her? If she had any doubts about the finality of your previous relationship wouldn’t she have gone to your flat?”
"Everyone knows Hugh's show is broadcast live. With all the promos on my appearance, it doesn't take a Rhodes Scholar to know where I’d be yesterday. Maybe she thought if she just showed up, I’d take up with her again.” Ian shrugged. “Who knows? Jennifer is clearly a bit of a head case.”
Miranda still didn’t look convinced. Frustrated by the situation, he added, "I live on Cumberland Terrance near the Regent's Park barracks in a brick Edwardian. You know the ones, solid outer doors, brass deadbolt locks and high wrought iron fences. I oversaw the installation of the security myself. I’m away on location a lot and security is important to me. She knew she couldn't get into my place."
"She made it into the station without any problem.”
"What do you want me say? My security is better than your security."
Miranda didn’t comment and neither did he. He thought it best to give her several minutes to think over what he said. Most of the storm and fury had left her eyes. He could almost see the wheels of her mind spinning, analyzing the veracity of his explanation. Sunlight from the window only lit part of her face. The part in shadow heightened the dark circles that colored the area underneath her lower lashes. He guessed she hadn’t gotten much sleep and hoped the weariness would work to his advantage.
“I don’t know Ian,” she sighed. “I want to believe you. I just..." Her voice trailed off.
"Then do believe me. I don't make a habit of galloping across the countryside to plead my case before angry damsels." Not anymore.
“I’ve never been called an angry damsel.” She looked away at the roses he sent. Finally, she turned to him. “I believe you.”
Ian placed a gentle test kiss on her lips, not a hundred percent sure of the depth of her belief. He didn’t want to give her too much time to think and change her mind. He kissed the corners of her mouth, her nose, the baby soft skin in the base of her ear. Hesitant at first, then with more conviction, she returned those kisses. The tension between them faded.
She pulled away. Quiet, she studied him for a moment, her thoughts unreadable.
Ian scanned the room. “I like your kitchen. It reminds me of an old French bistro with better appliances.”
“Thank you.”
Ian looked around more, taking note of what else had changed over time. He had a clear view of the drawing room through the archway and locked on the Leighton pictures. Elinor’s paintings.
He went into the drawing room and stood in front of the paintings. Memories of the night Elinor hung them flooded back. Her struggle with their weight and how pleased she was with herself when she thought she’d managed the job alone. Her shocked disbelief at first seeing he and Guy.
“Ian?”
“Hmmm?” He turned his attention to Miranda standing in the archway.
“You had one of those thousand meter stares.”
“I like your paintings,” he said and joined her. “I’m curious. How did you find this place? It's a marvelous location." An incredible understatement, he thought. "Come on, you can tell me while we walk in the woods."
Miranda owned Elinor's house. The coincidence was too unusual to be an accident, in his mind anyway.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
They set a leisurely pace and Ian let her talk.
"I discovered this house by chance, in the back of an estate agent’s distinguished properties book. I wanted a place closer to London. I work at home or in the field a lot. But, on the days I have to go into the studio, I didn’t want a long commute. The affordable price swayed me to inquire." She paused and shot a glance his way, "Aren’t you going to ask why it was so reasonable?”
"This is your story. Tell it the way you want."
"The agent tried to put me off when I asked to see the house.” Miranda lowered her voice an octave. “Bad history to the place. It’s totally unsuitable for a woman alone.”
She laughed lightly at the retelling of the warning. Miranda put a hand on his arm as she shared the details. She probably wasn’t aware of the casual touch or how much he cherished the small intimacy it held.
"I asked him to show me the property anyway. After that mysterious comment, who wouldn’t be keen to see the house?"
"I can’t wait to hear these tales." Ian’s curiosity soared. He suspected he knew what the “bad history” consisted of but wanted to hear her version. Maybe the combination of his presence and her talking about the manor would trigger some memories.
Say it. Say how, once you saw the manor you were inexplicably drawn to the house. Tell me the moment you entered you felt the warmth of love, some nostalgia.
"Ages ago, the young woman who owned it died in some kind of accident.” Miranda fluttered her hand, as though the fact had little bearing on her story. “Her family put the place up for sale. But whenever someone came to look at the house, weird things happened and potential buyers were scared off. Soon, rumors spread about the manor being haunted."
Miranda's cavalier description of Elinor disconcerted Ian. There'd been no indication sh
e felt any connection with her past life. He worried whether her lack of attachment included him.
"A family finally bought the house but within months they too complained of spooky happenings and sold the place. The manor changed owners a few more times. It always went back on the market shortly after the new people moved in.”
Miranda’s enthusiasm spilled out. She stopped every few feet to emphasize different parts of the story. “A few of the previous owners left all kinds of things behind in their rush to leave. To my benefit, I might add. I found those reproductions of the Leighton paintings in the attic."
Ian found her enjoyment contagious. Her voice rose and fell as she described what she liked and didn't like about the place. The words clipped and rapid fire as she discussed her ideas for change. As they strolled hand in hand, his thoughts dwelled on Elinor, but not in a way he'd have guessed. Instead of sweet remembrance, he caught himself watching Miranda and tried to recall if Elinor had ever been so animated. He didn't think so. To his surprise, he liked Miranda's gregarious nature more.
"You’re staring. I’m boring you aren’t I?"
"Not at all." From the skeptical look on her face she didn't believe him. He had lost track of the conversation but was too charmed to feel guilty. "Do you have any idea how pretty you are when you're excited? Your cheeks turn the loveliest shade of pink all the way to your chin."
"Thank you,” she said, a note of skepticism in her voice. “You really don’t want to hear about my house, do you?"
“Yes, I do. Multitasking, I can listen and appreciate your beauty.”
"Anyway, the manor remained unsold for ages. The only people interested were a few ghost hunting groups. They didn't want to buy, only lease. You know the type, the ones who want to set up cameras and equipment to record sightings."
At the mention of ghost-hunters, Ian tightened his grip on her hand.
"Do you know about these groups?" she asked.
Heroes Live Forever (Knights in Time) Page 18