Stormy Peril

by Victoria Pinder

  "Did you use it?"

  "No. I eventually ran back in." She swallowed. "But I was so scared today."

  "Of course you were." He stood taller. "I shouldn't have let you go outside."

  “I worried he did something to you too."

  “Don’t waist your energy on me.”

  Her heart constricted. She'd not give Raphael reason to lock her inside. She shook her head. "I did what you told me, and stayed within the courtyard walls. I locked the door leading outside."

  He nodded. His hands fell to his sides. "That was smart."

  Her lips parted. "He said he killed Harry."

  "Who's Harry?" Raphael's eyes turned black. In the candlelit halls, flames danced in his pupils. Kimberly took a step closer to him. She needed his warmth to make sense of how dizzy she was. "You know, Harry. Who you went to find."

  Raphael’s hair dripped water onto his black t-shirt and he didn’t seem to notice. "Is that the name of the servant?"

  She nodded. "Roger told me it was."

  "So the guy who tried to kill you told you the other guy's name and you believe him?"

  "Why would he lie about his name?" She crossed her arms. "He said he killed Harry."

  "I didn't see a body. I've been out for hours."

  Her heart thumped. "You don't know he's not dead either."

  Raphael brushed her arm. The chill of his water-soaked fingers took her by surprise. She shivered a bit and he held her hand. "Don't listen to the guy who's out to kill you."

  Her lips parted and all the tension in her body released.

  "True." Her chin quivered. "Did you see anything?"

  "No. I did find your bag, though."

  Her heart sped up. Her own clothes? Her computer? "What if Roger is telling the truth? Harry is dead and I'm his last target."

  "I'm here." He took her hand. "He'd have to kill me too, and that's not going to happen. Trust me."

  She rocked on her feet. Could she trust him? Raphael had done nothing wrong. She sighed then relented. "Okay. You're soaked. Go upstairs and change your clothes. I'll go get us the muffins and oatmeal I made. It will warm you up."

  He dropped her hand, nodded then turned to go up the staircase.

  She reached down and gripped her bag. The soft-shell wheeled bag had the same weight she remembered. First she carried it to her room. On the bottom step she tried the handle to see if the wheels worked. Her heart raced a bit and she hoped she hadn't broken anything. The bag rolled without an issue.

  Pressing one hand over her heart, she thought Raphael’s tall, muscular frame and short, dark hair made him the most attractive man she'd ever met. She opened the door and then left it. Her muscles twitched to go.

  She scooted the bag inside, placed it next to her bed, and turned to go to the kitchen. She stopped, stared at the hard plastic bag, and took a breath. Then she opened her bag.

  All her clothes were still there. Her computer was at the bottom, and she smiled. A strange, slightly wet book was mixed underneath her shirt. She scratched her head and flipped through the pages.

  Someone's handwriting.

  Footsteps echoed on the stairs. She let go of the book and zipped the bag.

  She jumped to her feet but clutched the book.

  He leaned against the door. "I found the food and brought everything to the dining room. Are you almost ready?”

  "No. I mean yes." Her heartbeat steadied. She held the book in her hand to read as soon as she could. "Let’s go."

  He shrugged then walked beside her. "Once we’re done, can you make more coffee?"

  She curtsied behind his back. "Let's eat with the best finery. The table is long enough to feed an army on. I figure we could use the other end tonight."

  He turned, and his intense stare sent a chill down her spine. "I saw you in the mirror. Don’t mock me, Kimberly."

  The wind gusted past the window.

  "Why?" She walked into the dining room that could host all the undead creatures in every ghost story she ever read. "You own a castle, and only vampires dress in black every day."

  "Vampires aren't real." He stared down at his black jeans and dark t-shirt and almost cracked a smile. "And this shirt is gray, not black."

  "Hard to tell the difference in the candlelight.”

  “The generator went out again.”

  “Perhaps you can be a vampire for Halloween for your guests." She touched the medallion and winked. “I’m already under your spell.”

  His cheeks reddened.

  Besides her muffins, he added a plate of crackers and cheese, and a bottle of wine. Her body grew a bit warmer. "Why would a young, rich man who's as handsome as the devil himself choose to lock himself away?"

  “If I didn’t, you’d be dead.”

  She left the book on the seat beside her. “So I want to help you live yours.”

  He scooted the plate of crackers toward her and picked up a muffin. She found wine glasses in the cabinet and then joined him. She almost dropped the wine as he said, "Your life is probably worth more than mine."

  She sat in her seat and placed the bottle next to the full glasses. She couldn’t look at him for a moment, so she sliced the hard white cheese. "I doubt it. I've not talked to my family in years. If I died here, they wouldn't even know it."

  "Nothing will happen to you." He scooted his chair closer and poured them both glasses of wine. "I got this."

  Her mouth went dry. Those were the three sexiest words any man had ever said to her. She stared at him, unable to breathe for a minute. The thump in her chest grew. She must have goose bumps all over her from this tingling desire to kiss him. "You couldn't have screwed up your life as much as I have."

  "I doubt that. I've sinned far worse than anyone." A draft rattled the book and it fell on the floor.

  She picked it up and then handed it to him. "I don’t know what this is. It's not mine."

  He nodded and studied the book in her hand. "So tell me how badly you ruined your life."

  She shrugged and placed the book on the seat again. "I thought I met the love of my life the day after I graduated high school. Mom insisted I go to college in the fall, but I couldn't." She swallowed and shook her head. "Peter, that was the boy's name, bought a ticket to China and begged me to come with him."

  "China?" He blinked then sipped his wine. "Some parts are nice. Others are not."

  "I cashed in what was supposed to be my college fund and joined him." She closed her eyes to avoid his stare, savoring the crisp, dry white wine. "Three months later, we were in Thailand, and he wanted more than just me."

  A warm, calloused hand covered hers. "What?"

  She inhaled the smell of cedar and pine then stared into his intense, deep gaze. "He wanted a threesome with some prostitute. I was appalled. I felt betrayed, and I left."

  "You did what you thought was right and walked away."

  "He dumped me in the middle of the street when I said no, and went back inside to get what he paid for."

  "Do you need me to kill him?"

  Her hands went into circles and she shook her head. "Water under the bridge at this point, but thanks."

  “Do you often do that meditation stuff?”

  “Of course. It helped me figure myself out.”

  "If you figured yourself out, why didn't you go home?"

  "It was a huge fight when I left, emptying my joint bank account with Mom." She tilted her head. "Mom worked hard all her life to ensure I had it better."

  "She'd have forgiven you." He massaged the palm of her hand. "You're a good person."

  She swallowed and gazed at him. She was a work in progress at best. "So are you."

  He tugged his hand back and shook his head. "Let's drink."

  "Don't change the subject. What happened to you?"

  He shook his head. "The less you know about me, the safer you'll feel."

  "There is a killer outside the castle." She tried to smile, but it faltered. "I can't go anywhere, and I am a good list
ener."

  He took a deep breath and silence clung in the air. She stared at his dark-stubbled cheeks and chin and avoided his gaze to not threaten him. Then he exhaled, breaking the quiet. She glanced up and he nodded. "I almost caused the death of my brother."

  "What?" She leaned back, setting down her glass of wine. "How? You can't just say stuff like that then not say the rest."

  "You don't want to know."

  "I do."

  "His wife was in love with me." He briefly closed his eyes. "It wasn't love. That's the wrong word. Obsessed is better."

  "His wife was obsessed with you?" The blonde in the picture? The size zero? Kimberly read the anxiety on Raphael's face. "Please tell me."

  He shook his head and his cheeks were red. "She framed him for murder, and I was why."

  Her entire body stilled. Murder. That word swam around her for days. "Raphael, what else?"

  "Can we forget this conversation?"

  "No." Her heart beat in her chest. "I won't judge you. It's the distant past."

  "One morning I woke up with a massive headache. She was naked beside me." Raphael's lips pressed together. "I left and never returned to my brother's home."

  Wait. He had slept with his brother's wife? Her body went into shock. "You slept with her?"

  "No. Yes." He clenched his hands. "I don't remember."

  "And she almost killed your brother? What's his name?"

  "Gabriel. My sister's Michaela."

  She brushed his knuckles until he held her hand. "Was the blonde in the portrait the ex-wife?"

  "Yeah. Tiffany." His intense stare almost melted through her. "I keep it there as a reminder not to involve myself with women."

  Size zero was not a woman at all. Kimberly kept that thought to herself. "We're not all manipulative and plotting. Some are amazing, like my sister. Others are just normal, everyday people, like me."

  "You're far from ordinary, Kimberly." He sat back on the stool, and his huge shoulders blocked out the rest of the room behind him. He’d helped her and she'd never betray him, not like that.

  Kimberly sighed. Raphael had saved her life and she'd help him. She'd start with changing the subject. "So you decided you'd be a ghost in a haunted castle for the remainder of your years to punish yourself?"

  His eyes opened and his gaze lightened. She smiled at him, then he shook his head. "You are slightly exaggerating and almost funny."

  "Almost." She opened her mouth and swept her hand to her chest to mock herself. "If we can't laugh at ourselves, we're truly lost souls, Raphael. You should try it sometime."

  They drank the rest of the wine in silence. He finished his last sip then coughed. “Let’s read the mystery novel now. If there is a threat, I want to see it with you.”

  "I want to bring this to the library."

  She nodded. He slipped the book in his back pocket, then brought the glasses onto a tray and carried them to downstairs. "Hey, that's my job,” she said.

  "Bring the second tray and join me." He quickly washed the glasses and set them on the counter to dry. He held open the kitchen door for her. She quickened her steps.

  On the bottom step, she stopped. "I forgot the crackers."

  "I'll go."

  She shook her head. "No. It’s my job. Go. I'll be right behind you."

  She ran back into the darkened hall to pick it up.

  The wind howled outside and the rain pummeled the glass window. Tomorrow, she'd not forget her candelabrum. The chill down her spine came from the cold.

  Then she grabbed her crackers, threw them on her tray, and then ran as if something chased her.

  CHAPTER 8

  A few minutes later, Kimberly walked into the library. Raphael was at a table with the book open. She clutched her laptop that she had run to get. Without a word, she opened her laptop and plugged into the wall. On the outside she saw no scratches, but water ruined everything. The power turned on the screen, and the computer flashed to load.

  The image of the beach she’d just left flickered and her eyes watered with relief. The computer worked. The system started with a hum, and she stared at the icons in front of her picturesque background. She wiped the tears off her face with the back of her hand. She'd share her experiences on her blog once she found her way off the island. Perhaps some of her readers might prefer real life instead of celebrities, because there was joy in everything.

  "Are you okay?" Raphael lowered the book and she gazed into his smoldering eyes.

  At least she could write while she waited for spring. She swallowed back her tears. "Thank you. You saved my life, twice now."

  "A laptop isn't your life."

  Heat washed through her. Her blog had been her only way to talk to anyone in years. "It's part of who I am. I was lost without it. Thank you, Raphael."

  "Roger is still out there. You'll have to listen to me if you plan on staying alive." The intensity in Raphael's eyes made everything else in the room disappear. She lowered her eyelashes to get her vision back. Raphael was far too handsome.

  She took a few deep breaths. Rogers words that she hadn’t even known Harry’s name had razor sharpness that sliced through her. "I know. He said he’d come after us.”

  Raphael shrugged and said, "Roger isn't in a position of power."

  He had a point. She closed her eyes and tried to focus her thoughts. Her mother's laugh at the kitchen table as she drank coffee, and her sister, Erica, whipping up something on the stove were memories that flashed in her head. Kimberly's chin trembled. "I'm scared he found my stuff and knows my family."

  A warm hand covered hers, and she forgot about the laptop. Raphael’s deep voice held her attention. "One step at a time, Kimberly."

  She gazed at him again. Raphael was all she had and she turned her hand around so their fingers were entwined. "He said he wanted to kill me because I saw what he did."

  She had said that so matter-of-factly. How? She should freak out at the thought, but all she could do was blink?

  He massaged her palm and her entire body became liquid. His rough hands rubbed against her smooth skin. He was far sexier than any other man she'd ever met. "Are you okay?"

  No. Yes. She couldn't answer. Her face heated.

  He spoke quietly. "We shouldn't let it ruin our evening. Rogers's stuck out there. It's going to rain again, and it's a cold, freezing rain. Not the moist tropical rain you are used to."

  "And we're warm and dry inside castle walls." She stated the obvious, but it made her feel better.

  He nodded. "Good. Tomorrow, we'll practice self-defense, so wear comfortable clothes."

  "Yes, sir." Would he let her go outside with him tomorrow if she turned into an action movie heroine? "Want to eat breakfast with me tomorrow, or will you run outside again?"

  He shook his head. "I'm going to do recon outside."

  "Isn't that dangerous?" What if something happened? Today had been torture waiting for him. She'd never know if anything happened until it was far too late. He should stay in where it was safe.

  "I'm the one with the gun." Raphael took his hand back, and cold entered her body. "I can't let someone outside these walls in."

  She was someone from outside the walls. She sighed. He had meant a murderer. She bit her lip. She ought to be more appreciative, but the idea of feeling like herself again urged her to go with him. She stayed still. The room became eerily quiet. The wind rattled the window. "Did you find anything interesting in that diary?"

  "Not yet." He placed the diary next to his seat. "I'd like to find out more about Harry and what Ellie said about him."

  Ellie? Kimberly's cheeks burned at the familiar use of her friend’s name. She lowered her computer screen to stare into his eyes. "How do you know Eileen's nickname?"

  "It's in the diary."

  Was he lying? She should trust him. "Can you show me?"

  He flipped to the first page then slid the book across the table. She stared at Ellie's name written in bubbly letters.

  Ki
mberly sighed, shut her eyes, and wished she could shut out the memories. Her chin trembled, and her throat was thick. "She deserved better. She was a good person."

  "If you say so." His voice was like a steel rod. She stared at him and wondered why he was so cold.

  She’d be sick if she thought about Ellie right now. "That sounds personal."

  He continued to read the diary and avoided her gaze. "You hardly knew her yourself. From what you said."

  Kimberly wished she could fade into the walls and not face Ellie's memory. Her shoulders hunched. "She was nice to me."

  Raphael kept reading. "If you say so."

  Perhaps she shouldn't have doubted him. Maybe she conjectured some connection out of the clear blue sky. He flipped the pages. She folded her hands on the table. "Had you found out anything about Harry yet?"

  "No, just that Eileen loved Ali to distraction." He shook his head. "I suppose that was a good thing for the end."

  What could he mean? And why did Raphael turn so cold on the subject of Eileen and Ali? "Why would that be a good thing for the end?"

  "They both died." He shrugged and a shiver ran through her. "At least she died an honest woman."

  "How do you know she was honest?"

  "Not all women are faithful." He gazed into Kimberly's eyes. "It just seems like Eileen was nothing like my brother's ex."

  Okay, he had told her about his affair. What kind of man sleeps with his brother's wife and then doesn't remember? Was the last bit dishonesty, and was that why he cared if people should be honest? She scratched her neck. Tiffany messed with his opinion on women, but she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to push him with how she was different. "I suppose if you look at it that way. I saw them interact, and they loved one another."

  Outside the wind howled. A cold shiver went down her spine. She packed her computer back into her small bag that had protected it in the crash. "I might go up to my room. I’ll see you in the morning."

  He nodded and stared at the diary. "I'll be gone early."

  "I'll be up, regardless." She heard the Miami in her, but she refused to correct her accent.

  He pocketed the book. She stared at his hand. She swallowed, unsure. Raphael picked up her bag for her. "I'll walk you up. Do you want to read the diary tonight?"