Stormy Peril

by Victoria Pinder

  Marriage was not on her agenda. It never was, and if she thought about it, then she'd screw up her thinking.

  He caressed her side and she closed her eyes. She'd never thought about marriage, weddings, or anything else normal women dreamed about. "Go to sleep, Rafe."

  He traced her face, and she smiled at him. He smiled back. Thunder roared out the window. "Kimberly, I've never met anyone like you."

  Then she relaxed next to him and drifted back off to sleep.

  The crack of thunder in the air woke her up hours later. Did it always storm here? She sat up and stretched. Her room had been nice, but the tower gave her an entirely new perspective on castle life. Then she blinked and stared at the empty side of the bed.

  She reached down. Raphael’s sheets were cold. He'd left a while ago. With a thump, she threw the blankets to the side and stood up.

  Her nakedness made the draft chillier, and she ran to pick up her clothes. They weren't on the floor. What happened? She turned toward the bed and stared at the chair next to the bed, which held her folded clothes.

  Meg must have come in the middle of the night. Kimberly's face turned red. Did the maid not have boundaries?

  Footsteps echoed in the hall. Kimberly quickly dressed and turned toward the door. Her heart beat wildly and she hoped for Raphael, but thought it might be Meg. Was there something else to clean here?

  No one came. Kimberly made the bed, and then trekked out of the room and headed back downstairs. The castle was quiet, except for the moments when thunder boomed outside. Today's storm was bad.

  At the library, Kimberly heard a soft hum. The air was chilly. She rubbed her arms and decided to speak about barriers with Meg. She turned and walked into the door. A blast of arctic cold greeted her as Meg was on her knees scrubbing.

  Kimberly stared into Meg’s green eyes. The older woman kept scrubbing, but said, "Morning, mistress."

  "I'm not anyone's mistress."

  Meg shrugged and continued to work. "If you say so, ma'am."

  Kimberly shook her head. "Meg, we need to talk about when it's appropriate for you to come into a room."

  "I have work to do, and who is where doesn't matter."

  Kimberly pressed her lips together, as her teeth wouldn't stop chattering. "It matters to me when I'm sleeping."

  Meg continued to clean the floor. "Laundry never ends if you let it sit until it's convenient for everyone, mistress."

  Did she work all night? Meg must douse all the fires and prefer this frozen state to work. Kimberly tapped her foot then changed her course of action. "Have you seen Raphael?"

  Meg sat up to rinse her sponge in the bucket. "No. The master left the house early this morning."

  The master? Seriously. It was creepy. Kimberly dropped her hands to the side. It was pouring outside. "How do you know?"

  Meg squeezed her sponge then went back onto all fours. "He left a note for you."

  Kimberly hugged herself. "Where is it?"

  "In the library."

  Kimberly smiled. He left her a note? "Will he be back for breakfast?"

  Meg scrubbed the floor until it shone. "I believe so, mistress."

  She'd wait to discuss the mistress phrase with Raphael on how to stop Meg. In the middle of the night, Meg shouldn't sneak into bedrooms. What if they woke up and decided to have another round? Would Meg just sit outside the door and wait? No. Raphael should know how to stop her. Kimberly turned around and almost left.

  Her sigh made the room even more frigid. Meg spoke to her back. "You might never make him happy, mistress. The master considers himself a lost cause."

  Kimberly swung around fast. "Why?"

  Meg sighed. "Because the last woman he loved died. He doesn't have the heart to love again."

  Tiffany had been his brother's wife, and Raphael hadn't liked her. The woman he mentioned last night dumped him. Was there someone else Meg spoke about? She bit back her words and walked away.

  Whatever the answer, it was best if it came from Raphael and not through someone else.

  Halfway down the corridor, Kimberly wondered. She reached out and clutched her medallion. She'd forgotten to give this back again. What if Raphael's heart was engaged elsewhere? He had warned her off numerous times, though she had refused to listen.

  If so, with time, he'd get over it. Dead women were not competition for the living.

  A smile grew on her face, and she made her way toward the library. No matter what Meg said, she'd not ruin her good mood. Raphael had been wonderful last night.

  The fire in the room kept it toasty and warm. In the hall it was neither hot nor cold. She was fine now.

  The storm outside rattled a window and reminded her today she would spend inside.

  Raphael's lips tasted better than any food she'd ever eaten, and she wasn't hungry. Kimberly scanned all the tables, but the one closest to where she first met Raphael was where she found his note.

  Kimberly,

  I had to go. Lying next to you was more than I deserved.

  Raphael

  He liked to torture himself. Outside there was no danger except from the storm. Roger was dead. Once again alone, she wandered into the hallway. At the stairs, Kimberly chose to go to her room and get her computer. Perhaps she could find a signal again and check her email.

  Anything was possible. Raphael's kisses all down her body sent her body into steam heat every time she thought about it. He'd worshipped her body like she was amazing. She smiled. There was no way a man gave so generously if he had no heart. Raphael's pleas that he could never be in a relationship had nothing to do with a dead girl.

  Kimberly froze. Why had Meg's words repeated in her heart? This wasn't good. She rushed up the stairs to get her computer.

  No signal, of course. She sighed then told herself nothing mattered. In April, she'd go home to her mother and forget Raphael ever existed. If she was able raced in her brain to finish that last thought, and she patted her forehead. Perhaps her thoughts about him would diminish with a hot bath. She left her computer on her bed, and went to scrub.

  Dressed in her underwear, she found one of her old t- shirts in the closet and her favorite jeans. With a long soak, her mood lightened considerably. Yes, everything would be amazing.

  She picked up her computer and decided to go to the room where she'd found service last time. From there she might explore more of the castle's rooms.

  She used the banister to help direct her way and laughed.

  "Are you playacting childhood again?" Raphael's voice echoed in the walls.

  She held her laptop closer, shook her head, and then shrugged. "I like to amuse myself. I thought you were going to avoid me today."

  "I thought about it." He stood aside to let her pass. His hair was damp. Meg must have been right that he went outside. His gaze bored into her. "We went too far, but your taste lingers in my mouth, Kimberly."

  She held her hand to her heart. "Did someone you love die tragically?"

  "No." He schooled his features, and she couldn't read him. The green in his eyes shifted color, though it seemed impossible. She didn't say anything, and he dropped his gaze. "It's not like that, exactly."

  She placed her laptop on a table in the hall. This was more important. Raphael had to be in pain. She held her arms in front of him and asked, "What's it like, then?"

  He widened his stance. "I don't want to talk about my past, Kimberly."

  "Fair enough." Perhaps this wasn't a wise conversation. She chewed on her lower lip and chose her words. "Who cares about history? Last night was wonderful."

  He nodded, but said nothing.

  Not talking at least meant he didn't want to say something bad. Kimberly snapped her fingers at her side and asked, "Why were you out in the rain?"

  He uncrossed his arms. The thunder cracked outside as he said, "I had repairs to see to."

  The storm would keep her inside. "So you fix stone walls?"

  He shook his head. "No. I wanted to access what neede
d to be fixed because of Roger. The castle walls are secure."

  "Have you ever found any trace of Harry?" She licked her lips. "If he is dead, then I want to ensure his family gets his remains."

  "I've not found anything." Raphael turned away.

  Was he lying? Why did he turn away from her? She tucked her hair behind her ear. "I know you're a good guy, Raphael. I don't know what's going on with you, but I need you to know that I trust you."

  His gaze met hers, and his hands clenched. She swallowed and waited for him to speak. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Kimberly, there are things you don't understand."

  Again with the deflection. "Are there missiles pointing at Canada hidden on your island? Or are you running some secret government prison for terrorists in the basement?"

  His face quirked into a smile, and she saw those dimples of his. "That's quite an imagination you have."

  She tapped her finger on her knee. "Okay. Maybe something more personal to you. Is that woman you didn't love but haunts you in this house?"

  His eyes widened. "You mean a ghost?"

  "Sure."

  He laughed and clutched his belly like she was hilarious. "No. Despite the desire by many tourists to stay here and experience a haunting, there is no such thing as ghosts."

  There were strange noises, but she kept that to herself. She lifted her eyebrow. "But there was a her."

  He froze. "We said we'd not discuss our past."

  "Right. So I guess I’ll spend the day guessing where you are, like every day."

  Raphael took a step closer. "I need to be alone."

  "Not good enough." She stepped back. "Is it wrong to wonder where you are when you're the only man around here?"

  "You were asleep and I was restless."

  His finger curved under her chin to get her to gaze into his eyes. "What? So a note in the library and not next to the bed was your way to tell me?"

  "Next to you in bed was the most erotic night I've had in years."

  "I meant the note. I had to travel." She swallowed, and fought against the steam in her body. Would he kiss her again? "I didn't like waking up alone. You're all I have."

  "You're all I had in a long time and I shouldn't hold you back."

  At least that was something. Her hands went around his waist, and she sighed. She'd hold him until he followed.

  She then stood up on her tiptoes and kissed Raphael on his cheek. "Now that should be how we begin and end all conversations."

  His hands curled around her waist. "Not on the cheek, Kimberly."

  Her hands traced up his spine. She smiled. "Where, then?"

  Then his lips came down and met hers in a fiery kiss. Her hands sank into his wet hair, and she massaged the slight curls. With him, everything was right.

  CHAPTER 17

  "Kimberly, I have to go, but tonight, after dinner, let's relax with wine in front of the fireplace. I'll want to talk to you."

  He ran every time he kissed her. She rubbed her arms. Despite how she hoped to fix everything right now, she'd give him space. She rubbed her throat as she decided to conceal her intentions. "Okay. If the weather clears, I'm going to go out to the courtyard to visit Eileen and Ali again."

  His eyes widened, but he said nothing. He then nodded and walked out of the room. He walked so fast, she hugged her waist. Raphael was haunted by his past. She wished she knew his problem so that she could fix it.

  She then shook her head. She'd not spend a second worrying about what he thought or did. If she thought about any guy that much, she sent her mind into a whirlwind. How she survived the plane crash seemed like something more tangible.

  In the main hall, she studied the front door. She turned around and stared down the dark corridor that brought her to the center of the castle, and bit her lip. Eileen and Ali were someplace safe. They didn't need her. She lifted her chin and returned to the front door. She ought to go and find Harry's body.

  There had been no sign of him. Roger must have killed the servant, but no signs after days of searching seemed odd. Within half a day, she had stumbled into Roger's camp, and the island wasn't that big. It was time to find out what happened to the man who had saved her life on the plane. She rushed to the closet stuffed with extra coats and winter garb.

  Kimberly chose a pink hat and a thick scarf, wrapping it around her neck. Whoever these clothes had belonged to seemed preteen or even girlish.

  Kimberly decided she’d start at Roger’s camp, and then go in a different direction, away from the beach and the crash. She unlocked the door, and the second it opened the cold wind hit her face hard, like pellets. She clutched her jacket and scarf and headed outside. Once she found out what happened to Harry, she’d be able to rest.

  Her eyes misted and the tears froze on her face from the bitter weather. Her hands grew numb from the cold, but she refused to stop. The island wasn't that big.

  The dead trees broke the wind, but she'd not like to be here after dark. Perhaps in the spring, but the whistles in the frigid air sounded like a crying child.

  She rubbed her hands together, grateful for the gloves, and kept going. Some clue about Harry had to exist, and she'd find it.

  Halfway through the forest, a dark shadow in the figure of a man came over her, and she sped up her walk. She glanced all around but no one was there. All the silly ghost stories had her scared for no reason, but at least she wasn't so cold now. Somehow the rocky coast of the shoreline calmed her, and the crashing waves meant she was out of the small patch of forest.

  The shadow dissipated, and she breathed easier.

  From the side of the mountain, she saw the plane. How had she lived through that crash? She swallowed. The airplane had sunk lower into the ocean. Would it be gone entirely before she left this island?

  Dark clouds grew closer. She didn't have much time. It always rained in this place. She turned toward a part of the island she had never toured and walked.

  Memories of the crash flew through her mind. Harry had stood next to her in the aisle, then, as the doors flew open, he'd thrown her out without a parachute. Had he known how close to impact the plane was? Had he sacrificed himself? She rubbed her throat and retied the scarf.

  Roger killed her friends and would have murdered her. All her panic confused her.

  Her mind flashed to the moment she wiped blood off her forehead. The dark shadow of a man in the distance came over her. Had she seen Raphael the moment before he rescued her from certain death?

  Kimberly winced, then shook off the memory.

  Raphael deserved a medal. He could have her over and over again, and she'd say yes. He was her hero.

  Her head whispered that so was Harry. He had thrown her off the plane, and he also deserved to be memorialized. He probably was dead. Why hadn't the older gentleman appeared if he wasn't?

  She shivered. There were no signs of human life in the dark forest that led to the cold Atlantic. The air tasted like mist and the plane crash reminded her of the danger she’d been in. She rubbed her arms together and continued to explore.

  Light brightened the sky. Another rainstorm would start soon, and she refused to go back without finding a clue of some sort. Had Roger taunted her with another murder? Was there no body? She rolled her shoulders as she searched through the dead grass at the base of the trees. No paths were cleared here and the branches picked at her skin.

  She tried to keep her thoughts on her task as the thicket around her seemed to multiply like it might swallow her. The remains of Harry should be in the ground with Ali and Eileen, until spring.

  Kimberly slowly took a few steps forward. The brush released its hold on her, and she had more wiggle room. She sped up, unsure she could return in the same way she came.

  The sound of the ocean waves breaking on the rocks sounded in the distance. She was close to the beach. Kimberly closed her eyes and said a small prayer. Eileen had been a good person. Ali must have been too. Thunder boomed above her and she glanced toward the heavens that gre
w darker and more ominous. The reality was she'd get caught in the storm, but she hoped against hope to escape the coming shower in the shelter of the trees.

  The bleakness of the forest almost stole her nerve. Her shoulders slumped, but then something metallic caught her eye. She held her jacket and scarf and ran toward whatever she saw.

  Lightning stirred overhead, but she marched ahead. Worst-case scenario, the storm would dump rain, like every other day here.

  The buried object could be a clue. Her body was numb, and the first drops of rain hit her forehead.

  She fell to her knees and dug. The metal box was part of the overhead on the plane. Her fingers dusted the earth off the cabinet. As she tugged it free and laid it beside her, she realized someone had tied a plastic tarp around it. More rain splattered on her pink hat. She’d found a new camp. The plastic kept the rain from destroying whatever it covered. She unwrapped it fast. The skin on her face thawed as she wound the tarp and put it around her shoulders to stay dry.

  As her vision cleared, she realized she was close to a makeshift tent made from more tarp that hung low in the tress. She dragged the cabinet toward the shelter and shivered. Was this Harry's camp or Roger’s? Kimberly wrinkled her nose and turned around. Leftover trash that animals had picked over cluttered the area. Blankets tossed about, again likely from wild animals. This campsite was made from the rescue parts of the plane. Life jackets, and a raft for the roof.

  The smart bet was this was Roger's camp, and not Harry's. Roger had been a pilot. Harry had been the manservant. He wouldn't have the knowledge about plane parts.

  What if Raphael had killed Harry, instead of Roger? Roger was on the loose? Kimberly trembled as the question rushed through her. A knot formed in her stomach. How would Raphael know the difference? She’d recognize the pilot, but hadn’t seen Roger’s dead body. Raphael had kept it from her.

  A branch broke in the distance, and she peered into the darkness. Raphael had said it was safe, but he didn’t know that he might have killed the wrong man.

  She should head back to the castle. Some storms lasted all through the night. She stood up and brushed her clothes to get rid of the dirt as rain pelted against her. Suddenly behind her, Raphael's voice boomed. "Did you follow me?"