All but him.
THE MANSION’S TRANSFORMATION was coming along according to schedule, and, so by the time Bram rejoined her, she suggested they pack up and break for the evening.
“How about staying for a while?” he suggested.
“I’m pretty pooped.” Drained from her experience was more like it, but she wasn’t about to play true confessions yet.
“You do look tired. But you’ll feel better with something in your stomach. I’ll bet you never even finished your sandwich.”
Odd, but he was on edge and not with her, Echo realized. He wanted her company. Didn’t want to be alone.
“I forgot all about the sandwich,” she admitted, wondering where she’d left the thing.
“Then let me feed you.” Bram’s smile was strained. “It’ll give us a chance to talk.”
“All right.”
Relief was written all over him. “Great.”
Remembering their encounter at the bottom of the stairs, she saw the kids off, and with a growing sense of expectancy, followed Bram into the kitchen where Lena was stirring a pot of stew.
She breathed in the rich, spicy fragrance. “Mm, smells wonderful.”
“Lena is a wonderful cook. Ethnic European dishes are her specialty.”
“Shall I serve you in the conservatory, since the dining room is no longer available?” Lena asked Bram while giving Echo a pointed look that said the unavailability of the dining room was all her fault.
“Don’t trouble yourself, Lena.” Bram took the ladle from her to taste the stew. “Delicious. You’ve had a long day. I can take it from here.”
“Of course, Mr. Bram.”
Echo thought Lena appeared pleased. She flashed a smile at her employer’s nephew, the first Echo had seen cross those stern lips. Then the housekeeper inclined her head and silently departed the room.
“You certainly have a fan.”
“Lena? Don’t mind her.” He sounded more relaxed by the minute. “She comes off like a dragon lady, but she is loyal to the Vanmatres and has a real heart beneath the starched surface.” He filled a bowl with stew. “She took turns with Aunt Addy drying my tears and bandaging my wounds when I was a kid.”
“I thought that was a mother’s prerogative.”
He set the first bowl down and filled a second. “My mother loves me in her own way, but she was never into the nuts and bolts approach to life.”
“How sad for her.”
And what a peculiar way of putting the idea of caring for one’s child.
They ate in the kitchen at the worn and scarred table that also served as a work area. The stove and sink could be classified as antiques, Echo thought. The heart of the old house probably hadn’t been modernized since the late forties when the estate had been turned into an exclusive resort.
“It was my father’s idea,” Bram told her, seeming to unwind totally in her company. “Of course Aunt Addy went along with whatever he wanted. She was so devoted to him. They ran the place together.”
“Until your father married your mother?”
“I told you, Mother is not a nuts—”
“—and bolts person,” she finished, wondering what Katherine Vanmatre had done to keep herself occupied if she hadn’t had a hand either in running the resort or raising her own child. “So you lived here how long?”
“Until I was seven.”
The year his father had died by fair means or foul, Echo realized. “I was told you never came back, not until a few days ago.”
“Correct.”
“Odd. I guess I would have been a bit more curious about my childhood home.”
If that home had been a happy place. She’d once revisited the farm that had once been the commune her family had belonged to. So many good memories there. But she had avoided the cold, forbidding Indiana house like the plague, even though she and Izzy had been the sole inheritors of their grandparents’ estate. They’d given away everything to a progressive outpatient counseling facility in Lafayette.
Not that such a generous use of their grandparents’ money could possibly make up for what the righteous couple had done to Mama.
“At first, Mother discouraged me from coming back,” Bram was saying. “She didn’t think it would be healthy for me. Then I guess I managed to avoid the situation for years, what with college and law school and building a practice. Eventually, Aunt Addy started needing more guidance, however, and she only had me to look out for her. I hired a respectable law firm to manage things here and kept promising myself I would get personally involved once I had a break in my schedule.”
“Only that never happened,” she guessed, picking at the last of her food.
“Something always came up.”
Not that he had a valid excuse. Chicago was barely a two hour’s drive away. Still, Echo recognized genuine regret when she heard it, negating some of the harsh assumptions she’d made about Bram’s sudden return.
“Why didn’t your Mother want you to visit?” she asked.
“The nightmares. She thought they would get worse.”
“You were having nightmares about Dunescape Cottage?”
He took his time chewing a last chunk of meat before saying, “Something happened to me that last night. I must have fallen. I managed to split my head open like a ripe melon.” He worried the scar on his forehead with his free hand, then as if realizing he was doing it, threw his fist to the table. The plates and flatware jumped with the smack. “Something happened that I can’t quite remember.”
Instinctually, she said, “The voices.”
He nodded. “An argument. Accusations. And then...”
His forehead pulled into a frown of concentration and the scar stood out in relief. Echo sensed that he was desperately trying to remember. What? Something to do with the theft? Or with his father’s death? Feeling his pain, his frustration, she reached out and covered his hand with her own.
“Maybe you’re trying too hard.”
He stared at her so intently, she had difficulty remaining still in her seat. She wanted to squirm when his hand countered hers, taking command. As his fingers gripped her tightly, and his thumb ran along the length of her palm, her pulse speeded up in alarming fashion. Her mouth went dry and she fought the temptation to lick her lips.
“I’m afraid I haven’t tried hard enough,” Bram was saying. “I put off facing my past for too long. And now I’m afraid it may have slipped away forever.”
She was staring at the scar. Curious how she hadn’t even noticed it the first time they’d met in the library. “Where did you have this accident?”
“Up in the attic. It was my secret hiding place away from the adults. Or so I thought. Aunt Addy knew. She’s the one who found me lying there on the floor, unconscious.”
Again emotion surfaced in his voice when he spoke of his aunt. Surely he cared enough deep down that he would never really have her institutionalized.
“How do you feel when you go into the attic?” she asked. “Does anything new come to you? Do any memories surface?”
He was shaking his head. “I wouldn’t know. Haven’t been up there yet.”
Back several days and he’d managed to avoid the scene of his accident. And the source of the “voices.” Echo didn’t put words to her thoughts, that he sounded as if he were afraid to enter the attic. Afraid to learn the truth. Still.
“If you want company, I can go with you,” she offered.
“No. It’s something I have to do myself.” He freed her hand and pointed to her empty bowl. “Want more?”
“I’ve had too much already. I’m stuffed.”
He pushed his chair away from the table and stood. “What you need is a walk. I’ll get your jacket and we’ll go down to the beach.”
Echo gave over readily. She sensed Bram still needed her. The memory thing must be really awful for him. His sharing made her feel closer to him, as well. She considered that fact. She’d never allowed anything serious with another man,
but Echo knew this was different. That, for the first time in her life, she wanted to take the chance.
But as they descended the board steps that eased the steep incline down to the lake, she wasn’t thinking about anything but giving herself over to the whisper of a mild October wind and the soothing sound of water rushing to shore. The moon was full, though the sky was crowded with clouds, a portent of bad weather that had been predicted for the next few days. But for now, they had enough light to see where they stepped.
When Bram wrapped an arm around her shoulders, she found herself leaning into him. As they dared cold, damp sand to invade their shoes, a sense of expectation filled her, and she yearned for something that had always seemed out of reach— complete trust in someone other than Izzy.
She wanted to trust Bram.
“There’s something about the lake that’s therapeutic, don’t you think?” he asked.
“Chicago is on the lake, too,” she reminded him.
“Not the same. Too many reminders of civilization. Highrises. Traffic on Lake Shore Drive. Rollerbladers and bicyclists.”
“At this time of year?”
“Hm, you may be right. I guess I don’t take full advantage of the lakefront in any season. Rarely seem to have the time to go the distance, though it’s little more than a mile. Here, there lake is unavoidable.”
“If you’re lucky enough to have beach rights,” she said wryly, aware of the main tourist complaint of not being able to get down to the water but in public areas that were few and miles between.
“You can use the Dunescape beach whenever you want,” Bram offered. “And Aunt Addy has agreements with most of her neighbors.”
She noted they were heading east, away from the Ferguson’s property. “Actually, I’m a member of a cooperative that owns a half-mile strip of shoreline, but thanks.”
“Thank you. For listening like you cared back there in the kitchen.”
“We all need someone to talk to at times.” And she was glad that he’d opened up to her. “My mother taught us that every human being has something worthwhile to give if only we allow ourselves the privilege of finding it.”
“Sounds like quite a woman.”
Echo forced herself to keep her voice light. “She is.”
“Though she might have changed her mind if she had met me under the same circumstances.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Her temper is much more even than mine. Besides, you’re not such a tough nut to crack.”
“Hundreds of people would tell you otherwise -- people who aren’t my clients.”
She laughed. “That’s better. I was beginning to think that you were modest and self-effacing. That would have totally blown my perception of you.”
“If I was modest and self-effacing, we wouldn’t have this chemistry building between us.”
So he was willing to admit it. Smiling happily, she teased, “My, aren’t you smug.”
“Perceptive,” he corrected.
“Plus, you have an inflated ego.”
“So you’re telling me I’m wrong? Then it won’t bother you at all if I do this.”
Before Echo knew what Bram was about, he whipped her around in his arms and kissed her. Not a light, tentative kiss, the kind two people shared when they weren’t sure of each other, but a thrilling, no-holds-barred exploration that swept away any doubts that she might have had about his interest. As his tongue invaded her mouth in a boldly sexual assault, Echo’s restraints broke free. She didn’t want to think, to consider the consequences. She wanted to feel, to lose herself in the now.
To lose herself to Bram Vanmatre... what should be a very scary thought.
But Echo wasn’t afraid. She was elated. She returned his unexpected passion, her own having been held in tight check for so very long. She couldn’t get enough of him, of the feelings he stirred in her. Desire. Hope.
One of Bram’s hands firmly cradled her head, while the other pressed into the small of her back, keeping her snugged up against him.
If they weren’t both wearing jackets...
No matter the extra layers of clothing, she was melting, from the tips of her toes to the tips of her breasts pressed into his chest. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt so alive.
Subtle sounds nearby broke through the haze of desire enveloping her. She disconnected enough from the kiss to register the sounds issuing from the bluff above. First a rustling, like someone disturbing the tall dunegrass. Then furtive footfalls. An object kicked. A stumble?
She wrenched herself out of Bram’s tight embrace and stared upward. “Did you hear that?”
“What?”
Her heart was pounding and not merely from the personal contact with him. Her earlier experience was too fresh to be ignored. Could the person who’d pushed her into the stairwell be following her now? Thinking she saw a clandestine movement— a shadowy figure ducking back from her line of vision?— she narrowed her gaze, but the moon was jockeying behind the clouds and not enough light shone on the area.
Maybe her mind was playing games with her.
She swallowed hard at the thought, let her insecurities surface for a moment. Then she heard it again. The rustling sound seemed magnified to her ears.
“Someone’s creeping around up there,” she whispered to Bram. “Spying on us.”
“Could be a loose dog.”
Could be, though she was certain the culprit was all-too-human. Tempted to climb the dune— or to find the closest steps at the very least— and to meet the stalker face-to-face, she couldn’t make her legs move in that direction. She sucked in a lungful of fresh air and told herself to calm down.
“Let’s go back,” she said, her voice hoarse with renewed fear.
Nothing to be afraid of, she told herself. She wasn’t in some closed space this time. And she wasn’t alone.
“I swear, there’s no one,” Bram said, still staring at the ridge.
But his calm reassurance didn’t sit well. “Then I’ll go alone.”
Echo strode away, but a second later, Bram grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him. Her heart raced even faster. Enough moon shone through the clouds so she could see he was frowning down at her. But when he spoke, his tone convinced her he was concerned rather than angry.
“I really don’t think anyone has reason to spy on us, but I’ll be glad to take you back.”
She nodded and fixed her gaze on the dune ridge as he took her arm and guided her.
He didn’t believe her. He knew of no reason for someone to be spying on them. And yet he admitted to having experienced something thirty years before that his child’s mind had forced him to forget.
What if he were the object of interest of a murderer?
The man was either a fool... or even more afraid than she.
NO FOOL HE, Uriah Hawkes slipped into the house through one of the tunnels. From the cellar, he came up into the kitchen using a hidden staircase. Miss Addy disliked him entering the house unannounced and so he had to watch himself. Stepping out of the pantry, he checked to see that Lena was alone. She was cleaning up at the sink. He wanted to talk to her, to find out what exactly the housekeeper knew.
Lena gave him an annoyed look as he poured himself a cup of java and said, “I suppose you don’t like what’s going on any more’n I do.” Uriah knew she didn’t like his helping himself without asking her permission.
“Turning a great estate into a freak show?” Lena’s voice rose. “Sacrilege, that’s what it is.”
Not exactly what he’d meant. He took a sip of coffee. Great estate, his Aunt Fanny. The place was a haunted house, complete with a couple of old bats running it.
He tried again. “That St. Clair dame, she’s something else, ain’t she?”
“She reminds me of that one.”
Uriah got her drift. Katherine. Lena had never liked Bram’s mother. He took advantage of that fact. “They’re both trouble, huh?”
“The loud one is nosing around, digging
into the past. Mr. Bram’s past,” she clarified with a sniff. “I heard her.”
He’d heard and seen some things, too. Chrissakes, they were getting tight! If Vanmatre sniffed himself out a honey, he’d be staying on longer or making regular trips from the city. Soon they’d both be sticking their noses where they shouldn’t be.
He didn’t like the possibility, not at all. If he had his way, neither one of ‘em would ever set foot in Dunescape Cottage again!
Lena could help him. She used to have a thing for him. Maybe still did. She wasn’t as dry as she looked.
“Lena, I think you and me, we gotta talk. In private.” He was thinking of his quarters and his big bed. Maybe it would make Lena nostalgic. More amenable.
Turning from the sink, Lena dried her hands on her apron. “The coach house?”
She gave him a sly smile that put him off for a minute.
Who was using who?
CHAPTER TWELVE
BY THE TIME they set foot back on Dunescape property, Echo was keeping a good foot of space between them. Bram wondered what was bothering her. He hadn’t seen anyone, but he had been undeniably preoccupied.
What reason would anyone have to be sneaking around the dunes after them in the dark?
Determined not to let Echo get away so soon, he said, “By the way, I let my fingers do the walking earlier,” when they neared her hatchback.
“You what?”
“Went through the local telephone directory and found Priscilla Courtland’s number and address. She happens to be in town. Whoever answered said she’d be around by eight or so.” It was almost eight-thirty. “Thought you might be interested in meeting the woman whose jewels were stolen. I thought we could surprise her.”
“I don’t know.”
”Say yes. Indulge me. Or your own curiosity,” he baited her.
Her curiosity got the better of her. “A short visit couldn’t hurt.”
When she turned to the door of her hatchback, Bram took her arm. “My car this time, if you don’t mind.”
She acquiesced with a shrug, and Bram swept her toward the garage where his late model sedan, an infinitely more comfortable vehicle, awaited. Glancing up at the darkened coach house, he briefly wondered where Uriah Hawkes had gotten himself to. He’d wanted to tell the groundskeeper about the supply truck left parked at the boathouse, but he hadn’t been able to run the man down all day, making Bram wonder if Uriah was pulling his keep. Or if he was pulling the wool over Aunt Addy’s eyes.
DANGEROUS, Collection #1 Page 30