Stormy Peril

by Victoria Pinder

  The only thing modern here were Raphael's weapons. His weapons were part of his life as a soldier, and he was here to heal himself. She understood needing time off from life.

  If she wanted to be alone, she'd not bring Meg as backup. Kimberly stepped back toward the door. Meg might have been a servant from his childhood who’d latched on and demanded to come. Kimberly shook her head. The maid was protective over a meaningless kiss.

  She touched the edge of the medallion and closed the door behind her. She reached up and began the procedure to secure all the locks, though who would get in without the drawbridge being down?

  Kimberly stretched on her tiptoes but finally got the last one. Raphael was much taller.

  She swallowed and shook her head. So much for ignoring the man. Perhaps, if she understood Raphael, everything else would make sense. If she could help him move back to the twenty-first century and forget whatever possessed him to hide in his fortress, he'd be better off. He deserved a happily-ever-after. He was a decent man.

  She swung her arms to her side and strolled back down the hall. Perhaps he didn’t need to be alone all the time. She should thank him. He'd be in the library, if she guessed right.

  Kimberly kept the lyrics to a popular song in her head and hummed the melody. Today was still a good day.

  As she neared the library, she heard a crack in the rafters and flinched. What was that?

  Then she heard the roar of thunder and her pulse quickened. Rain never used to scare her. Perhaps this was left over from the past few days. She was fine.

  Another crack echoed in the hall. Kimberly clutched her necklace.

  Kimberly rolled her shoulders and told herself, "Don't be stupid. Not now."

  The bleakness of the place rubbed against her skin and left her clammy. She forced herself to knock on the library door rather than barge in.

  No answer told her to come in. She opened the door.

  The darkness of this room made her wish she had her candelabrum. Where were the lights? She stepped further in, but then the doors slammed shut behind her. In total darkness, she felt around the wall for the switch.

  Goose bumps rose on her arms.

  She clenched her hand. This house was safe. She was safe. Nothing would harm her here. Then she continued to search the wall. At last her fingers found the switch. She flipped it on as something cold raced up her spine.

  The brightness of the room meant no secrets. She turned around, and no one was there. She giggled then called out, "Raphael? Rafe? Are you here?"

  No answer. She rubbed her arms to get rid of the goose bumps. Where was he?

  She walked to the end of the room and peered past the L-shape. He wasn't here.

  Come to think of it, where was his bedroom? He wasn't on the same floor she was.

  She circled the library one more time.

  Where did he spend his day? Kimberly rubbed her chin then tapped her fingers together. She'd have to find him.

  She returned to the main hall and decided which way to go next.

  Her body went warm and she turned back around. Raphael was at the library door.

  She placed her hand on her hip. "Where were you?"

  "Huh?" He stared at her in surprise then took off his headset. She smiled. He hadn't heard her calling because of his music. He pocketed his earpieces then said, "I was heading to the library."

  To the library? She bounced on her tiptoes. "Where were you?"

  “You look nice, but should be in sweats.”

  She turned her head and stared into his brown eyes. “What? I asked where you were.”

  "Ohh. I was in the gym." He brushed against her arm. Her entire body electrified from his simple touch. "As I said, you're in a dress. Go and change into sweats and I'll show you some self-defense moves like I promised."

  “Roger is dead.” She played with her hair as he took his hand back. “Why should I learn this now?”

  “It’s for your own protection.”

  She lost the ability to think for the moment. Then she nodded. "Where is the gym?"

  He stepped away from her and pointed. "Two doors further down on the left."

  "Okay." She took a step closer to him and smiled. "Meet you there in ten minutes, Rafe."

  "Raphael is fine. No one’s called me Rafe in a long time."

  “I like both. I’ll have to decide which one I like better.”

  He shook his head, but smiled back at her. Finally. His dimples were adorable. She turned around and walked down the hall aware that he stared at her backside. She had an extra swivel in her hips until she turned the corner to head up the stairs.

  Was she flirting? Was she crazy? Raphael was not a guy she could take home as a souvenir to meet her mom. She vowed to herself to never get swayed by a man. On the beach in her hut, that vow was easy. His kiss last night had her off kilter now, but she'd work through this. Her fingers went into circles to help her steady her thoughts.

  She ran up the stairs, jumping a few to climb faster. Back in her room, she threw the dress on the bed, and then rushed into the closet. The floor was still chilly despite her sneakers.

  She'd move a rug in here to keep her toes warm. She then checked out the racks of clothes and hoped to find a pair of sweats. In her bag, She had some of her own clothes that needed washing. She stopped short. Her clothes were hung and pressed on the first rack.

  Meg must have done that. Kimberly pressed her lips together. She'd have to thank her. Her own mother had never done her laundry. She shook her head then continued on her path. In the back, she found shorts that had an elastic waist.

  She slid them on and realized that the shorts were shorter on her than they were intended. She’d cover that with a long t-shirt.

  She went back to the rack with her clothes and chose her plain black tee that she wore to clean her own house.

  Raphael would not find her attractive now.

  She swallowed. Good. Then she tied on her sneakers and rushed back down the stairs.

  Meg was nowhere to be seen. She ran back to the library, slowing down to not seem overexcited. She shouldn't be anyhow. She shook her hands then walked slowly.

  She opened the door to the gym and stared at Raphael without his shirt on. Her entire body awoke in awareness. He was built to be an action hero. What would it be like to have him hold her close and press his lips harder on hers? She sighed.

  Most men could never get that cut with muscle. She stared at his US Marine tattoo. She opened her mouth to say hello, but she couldn't quite get the sounds out of her mouth.

  This crush on the guy was not good at all. Her face heated from reliving that short kiss.

  "Kimberly. Come over here." Raphael winked at her and pointed her toward a mat. Had she imagined the wink? Would he kiss her again?

  Okay, she needed to stop this nonsense. She swallowed and walked onto the green mat.

  "Take your shoes off." He took his off then stood on the mat. "What we practice you have to be able to do no matter your footwear."

  With her eyes wide, she did a few yoga stretches. "So I can do whatever in my bare feet?"

  His pupils dilated as he took a step closer to her. "That would be deadly with the right training, though when running from an attacker, shoes can be a weapon to throw."

  "Your last girlfriend with the designer wardrobe would rather die than give up her shoes." She flipped her hair to the other side of her head. "The labels are all Paris runway, and not bought in stores."

  He crossed his arms. "Safety should always take priority over fashion."

  She leaned closer and invaded his space. His hard muscles flexed and he smelled like home. "Living your life to the fullest should take priority over fashion."

  He shrugged, and his gaze sent heat throughout her body. Her own curves and softness were the opposite of his strength and body built to be James Bond. "Kimberly, you're surprising."

  A gentle breeze was supposed to be more powerful than a strong gust, or so her training had
said. She somehow doubted that lesson now as he pointed her toward the mat. "Why are we practicing now? Roger is dead, so there is no need."

  "There is every need." His lips were close to hers and he smelled like the forest she wanted to be in forever. Her body begged for his touch. "Your safety is what matters."

  She stepped onto the blue mat and opened her legs to a yoga move. "Are there other secrets on this island, then?"

  He glanced away. "Let's get started."

  He'd done that before. Was that his tell that he was bothered? She rested her hand on her chin. "You like to change the topic."

  He circled her on the mat but didn't step close. "Don't get used to being here. That kiss was great, but in the spring, I'm sending you home."

  "I'll do a dance of joy the second I see a ship near us." His forearm brushed against her and her gaze stayed on his manly form. She drew away, but she was transfixed with the light sweat he had on his body. Every cell inside her bloomed like she needed him to join her. "How do you lower the drawbridge?"

  “Did you open the door?” He shook his head and then made another small attempt to let his feet trip her. "Why do you want to go outside so bad, Kimberly?"

  Yoga gave her grace, at least, and she skipped his attack. "I want to go visit the crash myself. It might help me remember."

  He swallowed. "It's better if you don't."

  She shook her head. "Why?"

  "You ask a lot of questions." He glanced away from her again and then lunged toward her. "Let's get started."

  She maneuvered. Once the rain cleared, she'd figure out how to open the thing herself, but it would be better if he showed her. Was she a prisoner? Again he moved toward her, and his hands wrapped around her waist, and her body pulsed. She licked her lips. "No. How do I go outside to the beach?"

  He froze, like she'd struck him. She twirled out of his arms. Then he met her gaze, and she saw the storm in his eyes. Why was he so conflicted? It was a simple request. She said nothing. Finally, he nodded. "Okay. I'll show you later."

  "Now, let's get started."

  How would she react if he touched her again? On this mat, she'd find out. Would he kiss her again?

  CHAPTER 10

  Raphael's hands were on her back. Kimberly's skin was alive, and she swallowed.

  "Pay attention."

  What? Her skin was so warm. "I'm listening."

  "Turn out of my grip," he told her. Then his fingers ran down her spine, and she tingled. She tried to spin out, as he instructed her, but his hand went around her waist, keeping her close. "Go fast. If someone attacks you for real, then you get a split second at most."

  Why? She rubbed her neck, but nodded. "Okay. I was confused."

  He reached for her, and this time she leaned back into him and melted like butter. His hand gripped her hips and his chest brushed her back. His warmth seeped through her clothes and her bottom brushed his groin.

  He stepped back like she'd scorched him. He shook his hands at his sides like he wanted to shake her out of his system. "Kimberly, I need you to fight me as if I'm the bad guy."

  He then stepped closer, and she smiled at him. "You're not a bad guy."

  He crossed his arms. "Says Little Red Riding to the Wolf."

  She reached out and brushed the stubble of his five o'clock shadow. "Are you the wolf in that story, then?"

  "Bad example." He shook his head, and her hand fell back to her side. "Let's try again."

  He reached behind her and grabbed at her waist. She pushed backward and let him hold her. He let her go and wrung his hands again. "You're not learning to fight. You're staying in my arms."

  Did he always state the obvious? She shrugged. "You don't scare me, Raphael."

  He crossed his arms again. "I should."

  The low tone of his voice made her warm inside. She gazed into his intense green eyes and squared her shoulders. Whatever happened in the past didn't matter, not even with his brother's wife. Clearly Raphael was haunted by crazy Tiffany. He was sorry, so sorry that he refused to forgive himself even though his brother already had. She swallowed then smiled. "No, you shouldn't. You need me."

  His eyebrows went up. "I need you?"

  "Yeah. Else you'll turn into a recluse."

  He wavered in his stance, but kept his arms crossed. "I came here to be alone."

  "Why?"

  He stepped back. "It's not your concern, Kimberly."

  She shook her head. "I don't understand anything. Is this about your brother or something else?"

  He put his feet into his sneakers, then tied them. "I'll find you again, later, and we'll eat dinner."

  He rushed out of the room like he was the bullet, and he intended to rejoin the gun. Violence wasn’t the best solution. She placed her fingers into her calming circles, then stepped back into her sneakers. What was his problem?

  The lights flickered. On her way out, Kimberly picked up a candelabrum. The stone castle always made it feel like night.

  Her mother at the kitchen table with her coffee in her hands was always the wisest person in the world. She'd know exactly what to do or say with Raphael. What would she advise? Her mother hadn't liked her last boyfriend at all, the one she’d run away with. With Erica, Kimberly remembered her mother would say things like "a man should take care of you, sweetheart" and "don't let your emotions get in the way of good judgment."

  Kimberly blinked. Her mother had called her boyfriend a fool—and she’d been right. Kimberly shook her head. She'd like Raphael.

  Kimberly ran her free hand down her t-shirt, remembering the past did nothing for the present, and she had no idea what to do. Perhaps she should change into her dress again. She wandered toward her room.

  Every cell in her body wanted to kiss him. Then she ended the situation with an argument? She let out a groan. She might never find out why he came here, and she shouldn’t push her questions. She should just be grateful.

  Besides, his past wasn't her business. Not unless he liked her too.

  Hopeless.

  She inhaled then marched downstairs. He'd said something about dinner tonight. She’d prepped the slow cooker last night, but she’d check on it to make sure he’d have a hearty meal.

  The smell of chicken with walnuts and pomegranates wafted in the air. The cookbook had this under the Persian section, but she had made alterations for the slow cooker to do this for her. She entered the kitchen, lifted the lid, and added some spices. Dinner was ready whenever he was.

  Tonight was hours away.

  She rubbed her chin. The drawbridge had to have a remote. She stared out the window, feeling trapped. At the moment there was no rain.

  Where was Roger’s body?

  Goose bumps raised on her skin.

  Help.

  Ice ran in her veins. Roger? The murderer's voice echoed in the kitchen. Did the dead speak from the beyond? She shook off her ridiculous thoughts. She'd likely imagined it. She took a deep breath and listened closer. No more sounds. Her pulse pounded at her wrists and she unclenched her hands.

  Why would she hear something? She swallowed. The draft in this place needed to be fixed. Or was this how Raphael made his fortune? People paid good money to sleep in haunted mansions.

  She twisted her head and remembered the layout of the house. Only a few rooms functioned as a hotel, and she hadn’t ventured anywhere.

  She'd never seen Raphael anywhere except the library and now the gym. Where did he sleep?

  Kimberly's gut told her she had figured out the place. There was probably a whole other wing she ought to go see.

  She went to the desk and withdrew a piece of paper. She quickly drew a schematic of the places she'd been. Then she drew what she remembered of the outside, which wasn't much. She'd been unconscious.

  Usually castles were square, though, so there had to be another wing. She starred the empty spot. Raphael must live somewhere over there.

  She'd go check it out.

  Tonight, she'd speak to Raphael. They
'd clear the air, and she'd get a good night's sleep.

  Swoosh.

  She rolled her eyes and walked faster toward the door. At what point would she be able to ignore those sounds?

  Her hands trembled as she held the candelabrum. She ignored that and rushed up the stairs and down an unfamiliar hallway. At the end, she inhaled then opened the last door.

  A red velvet rope hung and signaled visitors were not allowed to go beyond that point. She stepped over the small blockade and entered a new room. She held the candelabrum higher.

  Something flashed in the corner. She yelped, then realized it was a knight's armor. She'd seen that in the Tower of London too. On her visit to the tower, though, it was daylight, and on the tour, there was nothing to be scared of. Her heart beat a little heavier now, but she was alone.

  She proceeded in the dark and fingered a tapestry of some sort. How old was it? Kimberly looked out the window. The sun was setting. Where had the day gone?

  "In Miami, we always have light. Suffocating heat sometimes, but we always had light." Every nerve in her body was at attention, but she rubbed her arm to erase the chill. The Sunshine State was why she'd never attempted to go too far north anywhere.

  She walked further into the black room and saw another hallway. Did she dare go further? The yellow light from the hall twinkled. Did Raphael live this way and that was why he’d left some candles burning?

  "Kimberly?"

  Raphael's voice came from the hallway that she knew. She stepped back and rubbed her arms. She'd explore later. She retraced her steps back to the familiar part of the castle. She closed the door and called out, "Raphael?"

  No answer. She swallowed. Where was he?

  Did that mean he was hungry? She puckered her lips then went back to the kitchen. She'd get the plates and serve dinner.

  She lifted the lid. Half the food was gone. Had Raphael or Meg served themselves? She shrugged then set the food in the dumbwaiter. Then she rushed up the stairs and to the dining room. Raphael was nowhere to be found.

  Had she imagined his voice? She went to the compartment and took out all the food and set it on the table. She arranged everything for their meal. Footsteps echoed in the hall. She straightened her dress and clutched her necklace. She'd have to find out why he’d called her name. Why he thought he was such a bad person. Why he wasn’t worthy of forgiveness.