Cuff Master

by Frances Stockton

  As was his custom, he wore black leather pants, black combat boots, a black tee shirt and a black leather jacket. His numerous tats were black and crimson. Morgan sensed his sexual preferences bordered on the dark side, same as his brothers.

  “I was beginning to think you’d never answer that door. Is something wrong, love?” he asked, his flirtatiousness harmless and constant. He called all women love. The only one he didn’t flirt with was the one Morgan suspected he really wanted.

  “Everything’s fine. I thought you were going to call before getting here.”

  “I tried. The phone was busy.”

  “A friend called. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. You look fantastic. Those boots are killer.”

  “Thank you. I got these boots from a leather shop in Danvers. Cassie Maddox gave them to me for being in her wedding. Did you make reservations at Druid Creek Castle?”

  “Sure did,” Remy answered. “Love that place. The activity is through the roof.”

  “I know what you mean. The wedding reception created some confusion for those souls who call it home, but they seem to like the new owners more so than the previous ones.”

  “Tell me about it at dinner. Right now, you can tell me who you were talking to on the phone when I arrived. You were talking so loud, I could hear the panic in your voice.”

  “I wasn’t panicked,” she denied.

  Remy shook his head, studying her silently for a minute. He hailed from Lexington, Massachusetts, originally and spent most of his life in and around New England. His family tree dated back to Colonial times, with part of his bloodline being Wampanoag.

  He was really very fascinating, so why was it so difficult for Morgan to look forward to an evening that didn’t revolve around Ethan? Simple, because Remy wasn’t Ethan and no one could replace the detective in her heart.

  “You know, I’m thinking you were talking to the best man,” Remy said. “Don’t try to tell me that you didn’t disappear with him at the reception. I saw your mouth when you came inside. It was swollen the way a woman’s mouth should be when a man kisses her right.”

  Flushing more from the memory of the kisses she’d shared with Ethan, Morgan shook her head. Only Remy could speak his mind and not cause her to hide behind her hair.

  “I told you what happened in the parking lot. I freaked him out when I saw that girl in the doorway. I told you that too.”

  “He may have been a little taken aback by what happened, but I saw him when he came in looking for you. He was worried about you.”

  “So you said, Remy. Why are we talking about this tonight anyway? This is a business date, after all.”

  “Because he’s the man you want. I won’t be offended if you don’t want to go out. We can talk about the show anytime.”

  “I’ll be offended if you back out. Being a consultant for your team means a lot to me. I want to understand my role better and be a part of something that could get you and your team national recognition.”

  “Let’s go then.” Remy waited for her to get her black pea coat, purse, cellphone and digital voice recorder, which she placed in the handbag.

  Small though the device was, she used it to capture EVPs, or electronic voice phenomena, upon Remy’s advice. Most of the ghost hunting gadgets and supplies sold out of her store came from his supply source.

  If there was a chance for her and Remy to go to the basement, they could do an EVP session and gather some of the evidence of the activity residing within the walls. She’d have to ask Alexander Grant for permission, but that shouldn’t be too difficult.

  Alex was a good friend and she liked him as much as she liked Remy. She was so happy Alex married Ryan. She’d never been to a same-sex marriage ceremony and it’d been one of the happiest occasions she’d ever witnessed.

  True love resided between those two, as it did with Cassie and Phalen and the friends she’d made in Dallas and Grace McKay and Anna and Kyran Black. How thrilling it was that she could claim football players in Virginia as friends.

  Perhaps it was time to trust those friendships she’d gained. So many times she’d taken a chance and friends or boyfriends turned away because she freaked them out.

  Remy took a moment to assist Morgan with her coat, then escorted her outside and across the small parking lot to a sleek red Corvette. “Wow. Last weekend you had a Toyota Prius. What happened to it?”

  “It was Evelyn’s,” Remy answered casually.

  “I should have known,” Morgan said, noticing that he spoke Evelyn’s name with a quiet intensity that went way deeper than flirtation. He liked Evelyn. “Her historical research has been a real asset to your team, hasn’t it?”

  “Yes, she’s brilliant.” Remy became more animated as he opened the passenger side door for Morgan to help her inside. “She’s such a good, open-minded woman. I wouldn’t have thought a history professor would add to the team’s investigations. But her research is second to none.”

  “She’s great,” Morgan agreed, watching Remy move around the Corvette to climb into the driver’s seat. “Word of advice, she prefers to be called Eve. You brought her to the wedding as your date, you should know that.”

  “Evelyn’s a friend. Coming to the wedding was rather last minute and it was nice of Cassie and Phalen to include us. Eve’s nose is always in those Ransom Hunter books or she’s staring at a computer screen looking up historical documents to prove to her daddy that she’s for real.”

  “Uh, Remy, do you know what the Ransom Hunter books are about?” Morgan was totally hooked on the vampire-for-hire erotica novels written by an author known as Ransom Hunter.

  “Vampires, sure,” Remy said.

  “With a very sexy edge,” Morgan pointed out. “No, that’s too tame. They’re downright erotic. You have an interest in vampires. Maybe you should talk to her about them.”

  “No way am I going to discuss erotica with my history consultant,” Remy stated firmly, although something in his response told Morgan he’d very much like to get Eve Stratham in an erotic position.

  “But you like her. I hear it in your voice. Why don’t you ask her out for real?”

  “Her daddy produces the show. I can’t risk losing his backing, no matter how pretty she is.”

  “Bartholomew Stratham’s investment firm owns much of the commercial real estate in Massachusetts and New England. He obviously supports her if he adds his funds to your research. What’s your point?”

  “Don’t you see? Fidelity isn’t my strong suit. I’ve done things with men and women that would make Ransom Hunter’s stories look tame. If I make a move on Eve and then start fantasizing about fucking some guy’s ass, that’ll crush her.”

  “You don’t want to hurt her,” Morgan concluded.

  Remy started the Corvette. The engine purred. “It’d kill me to hurt someone I truly care about. That’s why I don’t like it when you’re hurting. You’re hurting now and I want to pound my fist into Detective Maddox’s face.”

  “He hasn’t done anything to deserve a pounding. I’m not hurting.”

  “You’re lying. Your boyfriend wanted to tear me limb from limb when he came looking for you the other night. Do you know that?”

  “I was upstairs with the other bridesmaids helping Cassie.” She hadn’t been able to look at Ethan after she ran away.

  “Can we change the subject? Please?” she asked.

  “Only if you get off my case about Evelyn.” She’s too nice for me. I’ll keep her as my best friend, that’s it. That’s all we’ll ever be.

  Morgan glanced over. Remy didn’t have to speak aloud for her to read what he was thinking. Why was it she could read Remy Sinclair as easily as a vampire novel, but she couldn’t do the same with Ethan Maddox?

  Grandma claimed that her inability to read a man was how she’d know her soul mate. Morgan would have to learn to trust that her mate’s heart was true. Trust wasn’t easy for her to give.

  If she gave it to Ethan, what w
ould he do with it? Everything in her that was female responded to him as a red-blooded male. He got her heart racing, her skin flushing and her pussy drenching wet.

  Not once in her life had she experienced orgasm-inducing sex. She wasn’t a virgin, that much was true. But the boys she’d been with crushed her because she’d known every time she gave them her body that all she was to them was a receptacle for their dicks.

  Later, she’d bought sex toys, but trying to get off with a dildo wasn’t easy when she was trying to compartmentalize the data that came to her when she touched it. Even new objects had an imprint of someone else’s memories. They could stem from the person who assembled the toy to the person who sold it. She’d ended up numb and frustrated and thrown everything away.

  Was Ethan the one with whom she’d experience eroticism on a level she’d only ever read about? Was she even capable of being a Dom’s woman?

  She’d never seen herself as a submissive until she met him. The moment he laid eyes on her, all she could think of were ways he might tie her up and fuck her until she was hoarse from screaming out her pleasure.

  “You sure you don’t want me to take you home, love?” Remy offered. They’d been driving for a few minutes.

  “No. We’ve reservations. It’s an important night for us and your team.”

  Halfway to Danvers, Morgan turned her eyes to the man driving the car. “Remy? You should try endearments with Eve. I’ve the feeling she’ll welcome it.”

  “Knock it off, woman.” Remy gripped the steering wheel hard.

  “Okay, but if you don’t do something about her soon, someone else could come along. What if her daddy has someone in mind?”

  Remy didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. The very idea of Evelyn Stratham going out with anyone else bothered him.

  They reached Druid Creek Castle ten minutes later. Traffic through Salem had been a typical bitch. But the stretch to Danvers had been easy.

  As she and Remy pulled up to the quiet bed and breakfast, it was hard to believe it’d been transformed for a wedding reception a few nights ago. Cassie and Phalen had a fairytale wedding.

  But then the night turned sour when Morgan saw Jenna’s apparition. Who was that girl? Why had she latched on to Ethan? Was it because of his tuxedo, as Morgan had thought, or something far more complicated?

  There was only one way to know. Morgan had agreed to spend the evening here with Remy because she hoped to see Jenna again. She had no way of knowing if that would happen. Ghosts didn’t act upon command.

  As Remy escorted Morgan from the parking lot toward the entrance of the castle, she kept her eyes on the building. The gray and moss-coated stones’ ancient past was emblazoned on the front in vivid clarity, although most would only see the gray and green.

  At the front door, she gave in and touched the stonework aligning the doorway. Morgan felt the violence and the stories of the people who’d lived here hundreds of years before. Originally, the castle had been made of wood and stone, but the wooden walls eventually collapsed.

  Catherine O’Brien’s great-great-grandfather, a Druid priest, took residence and rebuilt it with stone. Over time, the need for castles deteriorated and many were destroyed by the Druids themselves to keep the English from taking control of it.

  What was left had been the stonework, which was later brought over by Catherine.

  It was a terrible shame Catherine had to sell the place because her husband left and filed for divorce. But Morgan believed Catherine’s husband had gotten involved in some very dark, disturbing magic that opened portals to the underworld that were best left closed.

  With advice from Morgan, Alex and Ryan hired a Druid priestess from Danvers to come to Druid Creek Castle and cleanse it of all the negative energy that had remained after Catherine and her former husband moved away. Peace had been restored and Morgan hadn’t detected any negative entities until last Saturday night.

  Alex Grant and Ryan Hathaway had transformed Catherine’s Castle into Druid Creek Castle Bed and Breakfast with a popular restaurant, pub and basement that could be rented for parties and such.

  Morgan was very aware that Catherine O’Brien had booked events that followed the Modern Druidic Calendar. During certain occasions, the facility was open to BDSM members-only events.

  And oh the tales these walls told! There had been some very hot, very safe and very erotic encounters inside this castle. Maybe someday, Morgan would encounter them firsthand instead of having to touch something and experiencing the memory of someone else’s pleasure.

  “Morgan, I’m losing you,” Remy said, touching her elbow as they entered the foyer.

  “I’m here. Just gathering information and compartmentalizing. Whenever I step foot in here, there’s a wave of things that come at me. Most of the activity is residual.”

  “If it’s too much after the wedding, we can go somewhere else.”

  “No, I want to be here.” For reasons she didn’t quite understand, she felt compelled to be right here tonight.

  Inside the dimly lit foyer, Remy assisted her out of her coat and hung it, along with his own, on a coatrack in an alcove. When he returned, Morgan moved in closer while they waited to give their names to the host.

  The host was currently seating a group of four, his back turned toward them. But Morgan knew exactly who it was. Alexander Grant cut an impressive figure in his black Italian designer suit.

  She shouldn’t have been surprised to see him. After all, he was part owner of the establishment and he and Ryan lived upstairs in one of the converted suites that looked as if it belonged to the Laird of the land.

  Knowing that still didn’t prepare her for the impact of Alex’s scowl when he turned, saw her standing beside Remy Sinclair and strode forward with single-minded purpose.

  “Morgan, what’s going on?” he questioned, his eyes darting between her and Remy.

  “Alex, I’d like to introduce you to my friend Remington Sinclair. We’ve reservations.”

  Alex checked the list. “I remember Mr. Sinclair and his ghost hunting team at the wedding. Ah, there it is, you do have reservations with someone who’s not Ethan. Are you testing my friend’s mettle, Morgan?”

  He stared at Remy as if he was ready to pound him into the dirt.

  “Hold on there,” Remy intervened. “Not that it’s any of your business, Mr. Grant, but Morgan wears no ring or any other sign of commitment to a man.”

  “Morgan’s boyfriend is my best friend’s brother. That makes her my business.”

  Morgan wanted to deny that Ethan was her boyfriend. He really wasn’t. She didn’t even know if he would talk to her again.

  “For your information, I’ve been asked to be a consultant for Remy’s television program. We’re here to discuss it. Remy would also like to talk to you later about doing a documentary on Druid Creek Castle and its ghostly inhabitants. Think of the publicity you’d gain.”

  Alex glared at her. “Is that right?”

  “Yes. I thought you and I were friends, Alex. I want this job and would appreciate it if you gave Remy the benefit of the doubt. Forget it, Remy, let’s go elsewhere.”

  “No,” Alex interjected. “You’re here now. Stay. I’d like to hear more about this opportunity.”

  Alex Grant transformed from nosy big brother into the sports agent who could charm millions of dollars out of team owners for his clients. Charming Remy in an instant, he grabbed up two menus and led the way from the host’s table.

  They followed Alex to a table for two that was in the center of the crowded room. It was lovely. The table was set with crystal and spotless china and a single red rose in a narrow vase at the center.

  Fortunately, she’d been to the restaurant enough times to know that the china was authentic and the roses were pruned from a hothouse in Boston. There was no earth-shattering history that plagued the silverware or napkins.

  Still the consummate gentleman, Alex gave Remy the rundown on the evening’s dinner specials. Druid Cr
eek Castle’s chefs specialized in an eclectic mix of Irish, American, English and Scottish cuisine. There was a huge bar in the basement that served casual pub-style dishes.

  “Would you care for a wine list?” Alex offered Remy.

  “Only if the lady wishes it,” Remy said, including Morgan.

  “I’ll just have sparkling water with lime, please,” she said. Already the spiritual activity within the walls was creating a buzz. She didn’t need alcohol to add to the confusion or the potential headache.

  “I’ll have the same, thank you,” Remy added.

  Alex remained at the table for a moment longer. “I’ll have your server bring your drinks. The lamb is succulently prepared this evening. I’d also like to recommend the chicken saltimbocca or the butterflied shrimp stuffed with Maryland-style crabmeat.”

  “That all sounds delicious. Morgan shares my likeness for vegetarian dishes,” Remy commented. “Anything you’d recommend, Mr. Grant?”

  “Ah, of course, call me Alex. We have an excellent eggplant parmesan, vegetable lasagna, falafels and stuffed mushrooms, to name a few. Take a few moments to look them all over on the menu.”

  “We will. Thank you,” Morgan said. “Alex, would it be all right for Remy and I to go downstairs after our meal? We won’t disturb the customers in the pub, but I’d like to see if I can get some EVPs in the back room.”

  “There’s an event going on in the back. Bailey and Stratham Investments rented it out for the night. They’re wining and dining the rich and powerful in order to build more office buildings here in the North Shore area of Massachusetts.”

  “I see,” Morgan said. “Is Evelyn Stratham here this evening?”

  “I can’t recall seeing her specifically, but the CEO and CFO are here, along with their wives, top employees and investors.”

  “Too bad, Remy would have liked to run into Eve again,” Morgan said.

  “Morgan, leave it alone,” Remy warned.