Raphael leaned against the door. His dimples on his face were sexy, and how his muscles blocked her vision of the hall behind him made her mouth water. Her crush was becoming real. He smiled at her. "Why aren’t you sitting down?"
His bulging muscles stretched the black t-shirt as if it had been painted on his hard body. He acted as if he had no cares in the world. His sexy green eyes had more light in them with Roger gone, though he'd never admit it. She licked her lips.
"I'm waiting for you." She curtsied. At least she still had her sense of humor. "Are you hungry?”
He nodded, coming closer to the table. Her chair. Her heart hammered in her chest, and she stilled. "Very much. I like having you here."
"A moat is a sure sign of being a recluse." Why had she repeated what she'd said earlier?
He changed the topic and brushed his body against hers. "Did you see anything once you’d opened the door?"
She straightened her shoulders. "Err. No. I’d like to go to the crash site and check out the island tomorrow."
He glanced up at her, and her heart melted. "I'll go with you."
With no danger outside, she'd prefer to have time by herself. She always mediated on the beach and it made her feel stronger. "There is no need. Just show me how to lower the bridge, and I'll be on my way."
"There is every need." He shook his head. "I don't know everything Roger might have done on the island, and I want to gain a better perspective. He might have laid traps for you."
A sigh escaped her lips. He'd protect her. She should have guessed that was his reason. So why did her mind race with the word "lie"? She pushed her hair behind her ear, avoided his gaze, and said, "Okay, but if you don't mind, though, I'd like to sit on the beach near the crash site alone for a while."
"Of course." He mumbled, "I will make sure you're safe first."
He pushed her chair in after she sat down and she folded her hands on her lap. She waited for him to sit, and then leaned forward. "Can I ask you a few questions?"
"You can ask." He stared into her eyes. His pupils were large in the candlelight. She forgot everything else except him. Then he crossed his arms. "I'll choose which to answer."
She nodded and sat back in her chair. "Fair enough. Why turn this castle into a hotel?"
Raphael answered, "I thought I told you. The truth is I thought I told you far more than I should. My family owns a few hotels. I'd rather shut it down entirely and just live here, alone, for the winter."
Alone wasn't good. She poured them both a glass of wine. "Is your brother a part of that?"
"My father's business." Raphael leaned back in his chair, but lowered his arms. "My brother, my sister, and I all benefit."
She leaned closer. "So you don't own and build strange hotels. Your family does. So what do you do besides being a former marine?"
He held his breath and turned his gaze away. "Let's change the topic."
"Wait. It was only a lead-in question."
He stood up like he'd storm out of the room. His chair tipped backward and fell to the floor. She stood up to stand in his way as headed toward the door.
"Wait." She was on her feet just as fast to block his exit. "Why do you always run from me?"
His gaze flicked everywhere but at her.
She stepped close enough that her palms rested on his. He smelled like pine. "Raphael, don't run away from me."
His gaze dropped to hers, and his succulent eyes stole her breath. "I have thought about kissing you again so many times. I can’t sit there across from you and pretend."
Fire surged within her, and his lips brushed against hers.
"I've thought about you every second since yesterday." His gravel-filled voice made her ache. "I can't promise you anything."
She swallowed and stared into his eyes. "You're my hero, Raphael, and if you need me, tell me."
He stepped closer to her. "I want to kiss your lips again."
A fire surged within her. Her entire body hoped he'd kiss her again.
"I shouldn't tell you this. You deserve more."
She swallowed and stared into his eyes. "I want you too, Raphael. I am developing a major crush on you."
He shook his head. "Right now, I need to go, because 'we' can never happen."
She wrapped her arms around him. He didn't stop her. A primal force tore through her, and she followed the directions given by her heart. She stood on her toes, used his shoulders to hold her higher, and then leaned in to kiss him.
The moment her lips brushed against his, a firestorm unleashed inside her. She lost her balance, only to have him catch her. The flames of desire hit her hard and fast. His lips branded her. No other man would ever do, except him. Her entire body was his, if he chose.
Crack.
The fire made a horrible sound behind her, and she let Raphael go. Raphael stepped back like he'd been burned. She stared at him. What could she say? I'm not sorry I threw myself in your arms. Kimberly backed away and called out, "We'll talk tomorrow. Enjoy your dinner."
He stared at her but said nothing else.
Her lips still tingled from his kiss and her arms ached to hold him. The man was in pain. If she knew what to do, then she'd do it. Right now, though, all she could do was leave the room and climb up the steps back to her room.
Soon she'd kiss him again. She'd have to.
CHAPTER 11
Kimberly woke up, twisted her body so she was on her side, and stared out the window. Was it morning or still night? Fog blocked everything. The foul weather meant she was housebound until it cleared. Every day seemed to be gloomy here. She sat up in bed, rubbed her eyes, and yawned.
The only things not gloomy were Raphael's kisses. She licked her lips, but the taste of him was gone. The man had a wall around him, but his kiss let her taste his pent-up passion. He'd be amazing, if he opened up to what he desired. What she desired, too.
At least he thought her pretty.
She stepped out of bed and stumbled toward the window. There was so much mystery here still. She couldn't see the moon or the stars or the sun in the thick mist. She hoped the sun would burn some of the fog. Today, she was going to the crash site, rain, sleet, or Raphael.
She bit her lip then decided to get ready. She couldn't sleep. Her body was too warm. She’d head to the beach.
In the closet, she stopped for a second and saw the clothes she'd worn yesterday already washed and hung up.
Meg might be rude, but she was like a fairy godmother who did all her laundry. Kimberly then spotted her green dress made of satin that clung to the curves of her body. She’d intended to wear it to her sister's wedding.
Kimberly rubbed her arms. Erica had no idea of Kimberly's intentions and probably would be pregnant before Kimberly ever had the opportunity to say congratulations. Her face crumbled. Could she use her computer to somehow find her family? She rubbed her eyes. She'd do that next. First, she had to make sense of how she came here.
Meditation on the beach always settled her mind, and she needed peace now.
Kimberly swallowed, moved past the dress, and found her plain t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers, and borrowed a sweater from the tiny woman's wardrobe. Who was this Tiffany? Was she in jail for murder? The thought left Kimberly's body cold.
Finished, she pushed a few garments to the side to look for a heavier jacket than the sweater. Her fingers brushed the soft fur of a wrap. She'd never buy it because of the animals, but it would be perfect for outside. She bit her lip, clamped down her disdain for how this coat ever existed in the first place, and wrapped herself in it. She almost forgot her necklace, but on her way out remembered it was under her pillow.
Kimberly ran down the stairs to the front door. Breakfast could wait. Perhaps she didn't need Raphael to open the door for her. The locks took a minute to free, but she handled it.
This was something she wanted to do alone. Every day inside was getting to her. She shook off the doubt. The final lock clicked, and she stepped outside.
The mist made outside dark above her head, and the fog sent a shiver right through her. She found a lever or some sort on the castle wall. She lowered the switch, and the drawbridge cranked open. She bounced up and down in her shoes. Did she need a hat? It was cold outside. The drawbridge lowered over the moat. She twirled and shook her hips. She’d figured out how to escape.
Freedom tasted sweet.
Icy wind slapped her in the face. The frigid air was unrelenting. In the next few seconds, her face must have become numb, because she wasn't quite sure her nose was still on her face. She sucked in her breath, but it caught in her throat.
The forest brought on images. She saw herself in her mind's eye being carried inside in Raphael's arms. Her eyelashes fluttered open, and she shivered to fight him off. He carried her anyhow. Had that happened? She scratched her head. It must have. Then she squared her shoulders, rubbed her arms, and continued across the bridge.
The bleakness of the island held her attention. Jagged rocks seemed to rip themselves out of the ground. The trees of the forest grew taller as she walked closer. The pine trees seemed cold and too bristly to touch. Kimberly held the fur wrap up to her neck and walked, hunched against the wind.
Memories of that night assaulted her mind.
Perhaps she shouldn't have come alone.
A twig broke under her foot and she jumped back. A sigh escaped her lips then she took another step forward. The beach. The beach. The beach.
The wind at her back seemed to call out, "Kimberly."
She shook it off as her imagination and continued into the forest. She slipped in between two trees that were close together, making out a tent in the distance. She tried to swallow. Had that been Roger's makeshift tent? He’d tried to kill her. He was dead. What would she find there?
"Kimberly."
She stopped. The wind sounded like Raphael? She dug in her heels then called out, "Raphael?"
Her voice shrank in the misty air. She burrowed into the fur wrap. Perhaps she'd imagined him. She shook her hands and tucked them under her armpits to stay warm. She turned toward the tent, but halfway there, she froze. The violent crash of the waves against the jagged rocks caught her attention. The beach was straight ahead. She had seen it from her window more than once, but this close it was different.
She inched closer to the tent, then stopped in front of it, knowing she couldn’t pass by without peeking inside.
She stared at the ground and swallowed her fear. She should see what Roger had in his tent.
The trees in the forested area had lost all their leaves, and appeared like thick, dead sticks that sprang out in the mist around where he'd set up camp. She rubbed her arms. No wonder horror stories took place in the woods. She clenched her fists and pushed aside the heavy plastic coverings to peek inside. The loneliness and bitterness of this place sank into her skin. She let out a small sigh, then took in the sight of a simple sleeping bag.
Someone out to kill her had survived the brutal environment without any luxuries. Rubbish thoughts were getting into her brain. Did he intend to eat her to stay warm for the winter? She clenched her jaw. She had no time for this fear. Roger was dead.
He had no personal effects in here whatsoever. Had he not carried a bag? But if not, where did he get the sleeping bag? Had it been Eileen's or Ali's? The forest-green color was not Eileen's designer taste.
Kimberly stepped out of the tent into the dead trees. Icicles raced up her spine.
The forest seemed like it never ended, but her ears heard the crashing of the surf. She stopped and listened. The water was close. She was supposed to mediate and be peaceful now. Her fingers refused to crawl out of the self-hug to even do the circle.
The wind bristled through the forest, and she turned her back on it.
She continued forward and reached the beach. To her right had been the pillar of smoke from the crash. She turned in that direction then thought she saw a man. "Hello? Raphael?"
No one stopped, and the further she went toward the crash, the more she thought she had imagined the whole thing. She bit her lip, jumped over a rock, then took her first look at the wreckage.
Her toes curled as she remembered how the water stole her breath and left her body numb.
How had she survived? The plane hadn't been that big in the first place, and the tail stuck out of the water. The ocean had claimed the wreck, and pieces of the plane cluttered the beach.
Her heart sped up now, and the cold was somehow less. She needed to see more. She checked the beach left and right. No one was around.
Perhaps there was something in the plane that would clue her in on why this happened. She knew how to swim, and back at the castle there were clean clothes.
Answers would help, and she'd race back to Raphael's castle. Any clue to find Harry would help settle her. She unzipped her jacket, stripped off her clothes, and left them in a pile.
The water froze her foot, and soon her limb became numb. In the tropics, she could swim for hours. Perhaps she could survive for a few minutes in this cold. She had to see what was left of the crash. She held her breath and went under the water. She'd last a few more then run back to her clothes. The water was black, and she couldn't see anything. She swam closer to the plane, and hoped to use her hands to brush against anything.
She had no goggles, but she made out where the exit door had been. Her hands acted like her vision and she touched everything.
At the cockpit she peered through the broken glass and glanced at something that shimmered. Was it a box? On the news, they always talked about some black box. Would she need it? She had no idea how to get it, and needed air.
She swam back to shore and changed. She shivered. Would Raphael have goggles or any dive equipment? She needed to see what she could. And the wreck held the best clues for what might have motivated Roger to bring down the plane. She stopped for a moment.
Crack.
The air sizzled with electricity, and she thought again she saw a man. She threw on her jacket and pushed as much of her hair into her hay. Then she called out, "Raphael?"
No answer. She finished dressing and swallowed. She turned around both ways, and she saw no one. She bit her lip and headed back to the castle.
The shadows in the corner of her eyes flashed and she swore she saw the man from the portrait on the horse. She blinked and it was gone.
She brushed it off as silly. The way back was easier. The massive tower overshadowed everything else. This time the dead trees bristled less. She ran as fast as she could to get back to the warmth of a fire. In the library, Raphael had a huge fireplace. She'd go there.
Her hair was cold, wet, and about to freeze.
Hot chocolate and the warm fire would bring her back to life, at least in the picture in her head.
She made it back to the door, over the drawbridge, and tried to open it. She pulled, but it was locked. She bit her lip and banged. "Hello? It's me."
She banged again, but no one answered. A chill ran down her spine. What if no one answered?
Tears threatened to fall, but she wiped her hands across her face. She'd not panic. Then she heard the locks. She stood straighter, and her heart nearly stopped. Raphael stood in green jeans and a black t- shirt. She almost fell but asked, "Were you out on the beach?"
"No." He reached out and took her arm in his. "You're all wet. Come inside. It's freezing.”
“I went to the wreckage and searched for a clue on Harry.” She trembled, and her arm became incredibly warm in his. She sighed and followed him. "I thought I saw you outside."
"I slept in." He let her go once she stood in the hallway and then he turned to lock all the doors. "I had a busy day yesterday and I thought you'd need sleep too. Clearly, I was wrong."
"I needed to go to the beach."
He crossed his arms. "You needed to take a swim in the cold Atlantic?"
He might have killed Roger for her. She hadn't asked. She had so many questions, but the first one that came to mind was t
he vision of the man. "I swear I saw a man dressed all in black more than once out there."
"There is no one here, but we can look together later." He finished and turned back to her, "I've not been on a ghost hunt on this island since I was a boy."
Her mouth fell open. "It couldn't have been a ghost. They don't exist."
"There are questions in life I don't ask." He led her down the hall. "This life matters more. So go upstairs, clean up, get warm, and I'll make us breakfast."
"That's my job," she argued on the first step.
"I'll deduct it from your wages." He shook his head. "Now go. Meet me in the library."
"Can you make hot chocolate?"
He offered her a sight of his dimples. "I can handle that."
She nodded and turned. Halfway up the stairs she tried to remember what she'd seen on the beach. Perhaps she had imagined the man, but she hadn't imagined the glimmer in the cockpit.
Her goal had to be figuring out what happened to her so she had a clear conscious and moved on. This mystery of Roger, what happened to Harry, all had to be solved. Roger might have been politically minded, but why the small plane? Why the pretense? Why did he wait until they were almost in the US? Had that been an oversight on his part? Her questions certainly had nothing to do with ghosts and other imagined spirits.
Raphael was the only thing warm in her life right now.
CHAPTER 12
In her room, she came out of the hot shower with her hair in a warm towel. Kimberly stared at her computer on her way to the closet. She chewed her lip. It was all charged, and she still hadn't checked her history. She'd make a horrible spy with her lack of follow-through.
First she powered it up, and then left to go get her hairbrush. She took care of the mess on her head and then sat down at her computer.
The files about her mother and sister had been opened. Someone knew their details. Her family would have been in danger, if Raphael hadn’t killed Roger. The thought left her numb.
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