"I did not follow you." How had he gotten here? She turned around to face him. "I was searching for Harry. He must be dead."
His steely eyes never blinked, though he stared at the box and her dirty hands. "Let's get you back before the storm gets bad."
She stepped back. No. The courtyard there had only been two pieces of paper and two mounds of tossed dirt. Then something came over her and she said like it was fact. "Where did you bury Roger? He's not with Ali and Eileen."
His muscled body was hard and unmoving in his black trench coat. The storm above their heads grew worse, but neither of them moved. He lifted his chin. "I'll bring you there after the storm. He didn't deserve to be remembered."
She'd guessed right. He hadn't brought Roger inside the courtyard, but left him somewhere to rot. What if he killed Harry? The question didn't stop spinning in her head. Despite the hard, cold raindrops that stung through her clothes, she crossed her arms. "Why can't we go there now?"
"This storm isn’t going anywhere. Cold and wet are not a good combination." He fixed his gloves. His broad shoulders, dressed all in black, overshadowed everything else she saw as he said, "On the mainland it's likely heavy snow already. The man's dead. It can wait until tomorrow."
Perhaps she was being unreasonable, but something struck her gut again as a lie. Harry, or his body, had disappeared. She hadn't seen Roger's grave. Until now, she hadn’t asked questions about Roger, content for Raphael to handle "the details," as he’d referred to them that night.
The wind was like tentacles of ice against her body. The rain hit the ground and splintered like glass shards. "Okay, tomorrow is fine. Why did you think I followed you?"
He shook his head. "Let's get back to the house." He took her hand in his and led her in a different direction. At least his muscles blocked a few heavy raindrops. She stayed at his shoulder as he said, "This way is the fastest."
Her fingers electrified from his hand on hers, but her mind shouted that something was wrong. Raphael had a secret that she needed to discover
Rain poured down on them like continuous buckets of cold, stinging water dumped on their heads. Raphael sped up their return and she ran to stay with him. Tomorrow, she'd come back, with or without Raphael.
Still the onslaught of rain grew worse, and she snuggled against Raphael's shoulder to keep her exposed face protected from hard icicles. His strong arm was wrapped around her waist to keep her close. Her body reacted, like last night, and caused a fire that burned for him.
His castle loomed higher in the sky and they were almost there. Once again, Raphael had saved her. She would have frozen in that storm. He deserved her gratitude instead of doubts. Besides, the secrets he held could not be so bad that she'd agree his life wasn’t worth living.
He picked up the pace near the outer wall of the castle. Inside the slit of stone between the courtyard and the castle she saw what seemed to be the pale white horse and a pale warrior with green eyes riding it. She rocked on her feet and jerked to a stop.
Raphael tugged on her arm. "Hurry, Kimberly."
She kept her mouth shut and decided to investigate for herself later. If the outside was off limits, the inside of the castle was free to explore. The old stones might carry memories of former owners. "Of course."
Raphael pressed a few rocks and opened the secret entrance of the stone wall. Her clothes stuck to her. Without a word he put his hand on her lower back and urged her to run inside, though there was a only a small space.
She did, but then she pressed against an oak wood door. To stay dry she pushed into the wood as he closed the stones and locked them in place. Then he rushed toward her and unlocked the second wooden door. Rain gusted in her face as he used a lever to unlock metal bars. With the storm, it was impossible to see much. Once opened, he offered her his hand and guided her in. She followed him over a bridge on the moat, and straight into a dark tunnel.
The air was musty and smelled more like a cave, but it was dry. Her jeans were impossibly wet and her pink hat was probably ruined. She tugged it off, and then sneezed.
Raphael pocketed her hat and took her hand. "Bless you."
"Thank you." Her nose itched. They walked down the corridor and he opened another door. This time she had the patience to watch how he unlocked it with a lever. He then held the door for her and they entered the castle.
This hallway had dust everywhere. The old silver mirror was tarnished black. Raphael picked up a candelabrum and lit it. Once the hall was illuminated with candlelight, the flames seemed to dance on the hand-painted ceiling. With work, this section could be transformed into something gorgeous. She smiled. "This is like a dream."
He dropped the box from the plane onto the floor and wiped his hands on his wet jeans. He stared at her and said, "You're in a better mood."
She didn’t want to tell him she worried he'd killed the wrong man. She should, though. She opened her mouth to ask, but then stopped. He looked away to place the candelabrum somewhere. She swallowed. She never had good judgment in men, and this was bad. She had to trust. He turned to her. “We’re in the north wing. No one ever comes here.”
Her fingers twitched uncontrollably. He took off his gloves, pocketed them, and then took her hand in his to help warm her. "The tunnel was damp and this part of the castle hasn’t been updated. We'll hurry back to the part you live, where it's dry and clean."
Her fingers tingled from the strength of him. "How many secret entrances are there in this place?"
"All castles have secrets. As boys, my brother and I used to know them all."
She raised her eyebrows to encourage him and hoped he continued.
He held her hand and led her further into the dark tunnel. "We found this one when I was seven or so. Gabriel was so excited. He had thought he had discovered all the secrets."
She rubbed his arm. "And you followed your brother?"
His dimples appeared as he turned to her and smiled. "Everywhere. He always lived the charmed life. Whatever he wanted came to his life fast, as if his wishes were always granted. I walked in his shadow."
Questions about his brother, who was married to her sister, rose, and she chewed on her bottom lip. "So why did you hurt him? Jealousy?"
He picked up a smaller candelabrum and avoided eye contact. "No. Gabriel told me she used drugs. I still don't believe it, but I have no other answer. She tried to kill them both."
She pulled her hand away. Erica was fine. "What are you talking about?"
He clenched his jaw like the words he would say were foul. "She hid in the walls to gaslight both of them last winter."
Kimberly froze. "Is Tiffany dead?"
"Yeah." Raphael's expression confused her.
Kimberly clenched her hands. "Good. No one should threaten my sister. Unlike me, Erica is perfect and deserves the best."
"Gabriel is the best."
She unclenched her hands and smiled. "You're biased, but I'll let that go."
He shook his head.
There was a secret. Tiffany wasn't the issue. In time, she'd get Raphael's true secrets.
In the meantime, she had her own mystery to solve. She should read Eileen's diary. Perhaps she'd find out more about Harry. “Where is Roger buried, Raphael?”
“You don’t need more dead bodies to look at.”
Raphael's potential lies tainted the air they shared right now. Her gut had to be wrong about Raphael. She retook his hand and let his nearness warm her through her soaked clothes. Whatever had this stifling hold on him might be right here, in this castle. “Are you sure you killed the right man, Raphael?”
“The man I killed was a trained soldier who knew how to fight. He had the brainpower to storm the castle.”
“I don’t need to be protected.” Instead of saying anything more, though, she reached up and stroked his arm.
He stopped and turned around, and his dark eyes matched the darkness around him. “You deserve to be safe, Kimberly.”
She'd never felt
safer. She stood on her tiptoes, leaned into him, and kissed him.
At first he held back, but then his arms circled hers and held her close. The scrape of his five o’clock shadow brushed against her raw skin. He smelled of a thick forest and she closed her eyes. The scrape of his teeth along her lower lip melted away her core, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.
This kiss was unlike anything else on earth. She clutched his body toward hers.
He picked her up, and she grabbed hold of his neck. "What?"
"I'm taking you to my room unless you tell me to stop."
“Never.” She kissed his cheek and her wet jeans steamed. He took her down another dark hall she hadn't expected.
Bing.
A metallic sound of a pipe or something rang in the air, and Kimberly added it to one of the castle noises that once explained were easily forgotten. She settled into Raphael's arms, determined to have him again. She'd free him from his torment.
His kiss set off a furnace of need.
She ran her hands on his arms, "We don't have to wait for the bedroom, Rafe."
His intensity heightened and the emerald blackness in his eyes sparked. She reached around his back to untie his trench coat. "No, you deserve a soft bed, blankets, and the fire in the fireplace, Kimberly. You're special."
Her heart sang. She was special?
He turned, and his hand reached out for hers. Every cell in her body sparked awake, and she'd have him. Her clothes irritated her tender skin, and she'd throw everything off the second they entered a bedroom.
Finally, he led her to the set of circular stairs that led to his room. His room was at the top. She squeezed his hand. He leaned down and kissed her. Her body quivered. Then he reached and unbuttoned her jeans.
She needed to strip him too. She sucked in her lips for a second then let them out. "I'll race you up the stairs. I'd rather be naked with you."
His dimples appeared. Then she turned around and ran up the steps.
He followed behind her, but it felt like he stayed there to ensure she didn't fall. Her heart nearly burst out of her chest. Raphael, her protector.
At the top step, she waited at the door. The lock was high. He reached up and unlocked his door without an issue. The second the door opened, she threw her soaked shirt on a chair and unzipped her pants. Unfortunately, it took a moment to shimmy out of them, as they stuck.
He did the same.
Done, she reached over and touched his contoured abs. His body quivered from her simple touch. Emboldened, she pressed her lips to his neck and let her hand reach down to play with his growing penis.
The second he came closer, her arms wrapped around his waist, but then he peered at her head. She whispered as she continued to play with him, “What are you doing?”
“I wanted to check on your Easter egg and make sure you’re healing.”
“I’m fine. Without you on me, I’m cold, though.” His hands brushed the hair out of her face then kissed her, hard.
This couldn’t be another mistake. Raphael was so amazing.
Her body nearly exploded with anticipation. She intended to lead them toward the bed, but his kiss leaned her backward. With his arms around her, her skin was so sensitive and aware.
He took a step in the direction for the bed, and she stepped backward. His hands roamed her body. She let him. She'd do anything. Her own hands raked against his strong back.
All this delicious man was hers now.
She kissed his neck and ears as he laid her backward on the bed. Her fingers grazed against his coarse, dark hair.
Tonight, he was hers.
CHAPTER 18
The storm finally stopped. With her eyes closed, and her body wrapped in a sheet, she heard an owl hoot outside the window. Kimberly smiled to herself. How had she lived without Raphael's touch? Her body still had electric surges from everywhere he kissed and touched her.
The moon was high in the night sky, but she couldn't sleep. She was too excited about life. She rolled over and sat up, resting her feet against the wood floor next to his bed. Raphael’s deep breathing indicated he was sound asleep. She stretched and noticed her clean clothes folded on the chair. Last night the soggy mess had been in piles on the floor.
Meg must have been here. Kimberly brushed her hair behind her ear. She stood up, and her toes froze. The bare wood floor without a rug on it sent a chill up her spine every time she stood without socks. Before she left, she leaned over and kissed Raphael's full lips.
His lips were pliant and soft. He tugged her down into his arms and kissed her back. She caressed his chiseled chin that was scratchy from his five o’clock shadow. His hand caressed her hips, then her back and neck, and then he cradled her head with his large hands and massaged her scalp. "Kimberly, you are mine."
She ran her hands to his cheeks and felt his rough, thick hair that stopped above his ear. From her lessons on self-awareness, she understood right now was all she had. She stayed in the present moment and didn’t put stock in forever. She leaned against him and centered herself on his erection as she teased his naked skin with her own.
A possessive grin took over his face. Kimberly smiled. She'd like to be his.
He opened his eyes and his hands rested on her waist. Then he pressed her down and his mouth kissed one breast then the other. "Morning."
She laughed. It was still late. "It's the middle of the night."
His smoldering gaze met hers. "You are beautiful."
She massaged his shoulders. "The last single man I spoke to called me a bitch."
She had almost forgotten that, and had no idea why she said it now. It was a bar in France on their way to America. A tourist bought her a wine and expected her to kiss him.
His dimples held his laugh in. "I'm glad."
"You're what?"
"Glad. He was a fool. It left you available."
She laughed, and the accusation that had once stung internally left her entirely. Raphael was a man she could respect and, if she dared, possibly love.
He kissed her lips, and his hard body sent thrills to parts of her body she had never thought alive.
Soon she lost complete control of her thoughts, mind, and body. Raphael sent her into orbit.
Hours later the sun shone through the window. She woke up sated and twisted on the other side of the bed to find Raphael’s sheets were still warm. Inhaling his woodsy scent, she opened her eyes. "Raphael?"
A rumble to her left sounded. She turned, and saw Raphael staring out his giant tower window.
His room was sparse and clean, nothing personal except a few pictures of his family. She knew better now. She gathered the sheets around her, stood up, and walked over to him. "What's wrong?"
He stayed as he was, and she hugged him from behind. He sighed. "I'm under your spell, Kimberly."
"I don't weave spells. I don't have any drugs. And I have no control over you. Or near you. Raphael, don't beat yourself up every time we enjoy each other."
He offered her the saddest smile she'd ever seen. "I swore I wouldn’t touch you again, but yesterday I couldn't stop."
She knelt down beside his feet. She had to take this big chance with him. "I'm glad you broke that vow. Right now, I need you here with me. All that matters is that we now help our own futures."
"We—"
She shook her head. "Don't say shouldn't. We both enjoy ourselves. Don't add responsibilities of the future on the here and now."
His jaw dropped. "Kimberly, you say things that blow my mind, and I don't understand you at all."
"I learned a few things on my journey of self-awareness." She sat up and hugged him. He reached out for her to sit, and she complied. She nestled on his lap. "Now I'm going to go make breakfast. Don't dwell on a past that doesn't matter. If you think that will happen, follow me to the kitchen and we'll get you your liters of coffee."
His green eyes were wide as he asked, "Why do you like me?"
Like was such a light word for what she f
elt. She pressed her lips together and chose to hold that thought back. She traced his face. "You're my angel, Raphael. You're a little battered and you lost the halo. But your heart and soul are good. I can't say no."
"I have to go too, but I'll be back for you soon."
Clearly he had to work out whatever bothered him. She scooted off his lap and stood up. "Can I have Eileen's diary?"
He averted his gaze again. "Yeah. I'll bring it to you when I find you and that coffee."
She should have read it sooner, she thought as she got dressed.
She threw her jeans and socks on, and then went across the room for her bra and shirt when he stirred from his seat. He dressed fast. His jeans almost hid the delicious manhood of his, but her body hummed from the memory.
Today was clean and pure. Perhaps if he was gone awhile in the afternoon, she'd go in search of where Raphael had buried Roger. It had to be near the castle grounds. For all either of them knew Harry might have had military training and thought Raphael an enemy. She had to know what happened. If she found Roger’s body, they were safe. "Will you be a few hours?"
"Yeah." He threw on his shirt. "I've business to attend to, but I'll hurry."
"Don't bother. Take all morning. We'll meet up for lunch then. I’ll have coffee in the pot and a muffin waiting for you before you leave."
He stilled then nodded. "Perfect."
She stopped. “Can you take me to Roger’s grave, then?”
He averted his gaze and threw another shirt on his head. “I guess.”
He didn’t want to go there. He didn’t want to take her. She needed to know this. She needed to see. She needed to trust him and trust herself.
He took her hand in his and led her out of his bedroom and back to the main part of the house. "I'll be back soon, Kimberly."
Perhaps she'd find a way to break him of his sullen departures from her soon. She rubbed her arms. He had spent all night next to her. Her last thought was unkind. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "See you soon."
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