“No.”
He nodded without expression. What was he thinking? That she was a foolish, emotional young woman?
“I carried your bag upstairs for you.”
“You did?”
“Mrs. Norwhich told me which room was yours.”
He’d seen her bedroom, still decorated with posters from her high school days. “You’ve met Mrs. Norwhich then?” she asked, to keep from wondering what he’d thought about her room.
“Uh-huh. She came in around six this morning. Didn’t seem at all bothered or surprised to find unexpected company in the house. She told me to help myself to a shower, and offered to fix me some breakfast.”
“How did she know which room was mine? I’ve never even met the woman.”
“Beats me. I put them in the third bedroom down, on the right-hand side.”
“That’s my room,” she acknowledged. “Where’s Jacob?”
“He went out—after suggesting to Mrs. Norwhich that she should count the silver.” His lips curved faintly. “I don’t think your friend Jacob likes me very much.”
“You didn’t exactly make a good first impression,” Hayley pointed out. She tucked several strands of wayward hair behind her ears. “I’d better go up and grab a shower, too.”
“I put fresh linens in your room,” said a dour voice from the doorway.
Hayley spun to gape at a tall, middle-aged woman dressed in a flower-print shirt and baggy slacks. The clothes hung limply on her bony frame. Her stringy blond-and-silver hair was piled in an untidy mat on top of her head. Bony fingers pushed at the wispy strands trying to escape. Her long, seamed face was pinched and sallow and set in a permanent frown. She held a duster in one hand. A pail of cleaning supplies sat at her feet.
“No one’s supposed to be in here. That’s what they told me. Don’t go in the front parlor, they said.”
Once again Hayley was reminded of an old horror film. Didn’t those housekeepers always appear out of nowhere? “Mrs. Norwhich?” she asked tentatively.
Beady eyes hardened. “She’s in the kitchen.” The woman turned and glided silently down the hall, her back stiffly erect.
“Now I know why Jacob said to wait until we met the maid,” Bram whispered near her ear.
“She moves like a ghost.”
“Sort of looks like one, too,” he agreed. “Very skeletal. Want me to walk you upstairs?”
“I remember the way.”
He was suddenly standing much too close. She felt totally unprepared for the emotions he seemed to evoke in her.
“Then I’d better get back to work,” he told her.
His soft, deep voice slid over her, sending all sorts of inappropriate impulses to her nerve endings.
“Thank you. For last night, I mean.”
He lowered his head. Her heart thudded crazily in anticipation. He was going to kiss her.
With one knuckle, he gently raised her chin. His gaze held her captive more surely than any shackles.
“My pleasure.”
While her lips readied for his, Bram brushed a kiss over the tip of her nose, released her and strode to the front door without looking back.
Hayley could barely climb the stairs to her bedroom. Her legs were weak and her heart was racing as if she’d been running a marathon. For crying out loud. If she reacted like this to a peck on the nose, what would she do if he really kissed her?
Her imagination went to work on that as she showered.
The electricity might be back, but the hot water tank had little to offer. Since a cold shower seemed totally appropriate, she washed quickly and changed into a pair of shorts and a sleeveless top. Although it was still morning, the heat and humidity were already challenging the air-conditioning system.
As she pulled her hair into a ponytail, Hayley couldn’t stop thinking about Bram. Trite or not, the fact was he was like no one she had ever met before. He fascinated her on every level. She wanted to understand the man hiding beneath that rigid exterior. A man who seemed as hard as the steel rods from which he forged such beauty.
In the kitchen, Hayley discovered Jacob’s description of Mrs. Norwhich hadn’t gone far enough. Odette Norwhich was a large, unyielding woman of few words who managed to convey disdain in each syllable, particularly when Hayley bypassed a real breakfast in favor of coffee and toast.
Eden arrived as Hayley was heading for the dishwasher with her cup and plate. Eden didn’t bother with pleasantries.
“Good. We have power. We need to install a generator of our own. This situation is intolerable. We’ll be wanting dinner at seven, Mrs. Norwhich. Did Paula arrive?”
“Mrs. Kerstairs is making up the bedrooms.”
“I want that front room done this morning. How long do you plan to stay, Hayley?”
Hayley forced a pleasant expression. Turning from the dishwasher, where she’d put her cup and plate while Mrs. Norwhich watched with a scowl, she tried for a calm tone. “Permanently, Eden. Where is Marcus?”
Hard as it was to believe that Eden’s sour expression could get any worse, it did. Her lips pursed so tightly they disappeared.
“In the garden,” she finally spat out. “But don’t be surprised by anything he may say.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s been diagnosed with the early stages of dementia.”
“What?”
Eden pivoted and strode regally from the room, leaving Hayley staring after her. Mrs. Norwhich grunted and repositioned Hayley’s cup inside the dishwasher. Crossing to the walk-in pantry, Hayley grabbed a bottle of water from the stash Marcus always kept there. She’d developed the habit of carrying water with her everywhere she went. Sadly, it was the only thing she and Marcus had ever shared in common.
“Cold ones are in the refrigerator,” Mrs. Norwhich said disapprovingly.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t know what’s wrong with the water coming out of the tap,” the woman muttered. “Perfectly good water, if you ask me. If it’s good enough to cook with, it ought to be good enough to drink.”
Exchanging the bottle for a cold one, Hayley ignored her comments and bypassed the kitchen table as she crossed to the side door, intent on the far path that would take her into the vast gardens.
Leave it to Eden to drop a bombshell and walk away. How could Marcus be in the early stages of dementia? He was only in his sixties. Hayley had a ton of questions, but she knew she wouldn’t get any answers from Eden without a struggle. She’d have to see for herself what the situation was. She should have waited for Leigh to get back before coming here.
Dementia would explain Marcus’s sudden need for bars on the windows and doors. But why hadn’t anyone thought to inform her of the situation?
She was stewing over that as she headed toward the entrance to maze three. Her mother and grandfather had worked so hard to establish three distinct mazes filled with cheerful flower gardens and topiary plants. The hedges had always been kept neatly cropped at waist height, but Marcus had let them grow until they concealed an average-size person now. Walking through the overgrown mazes could prove to be a real challenge, since the topiary figures were mostly unrecognizable from lack of pruning.
In the past, the gardens had always brought a sense of peace. Leigh had sworn she could feel their mother’s presence here. But today, the garden brought Hayley no solace whatsoever. Her grandfather’s death had been bad enough, but her mother’s strange disappearance was something Hayley doubted she would ever get over. There could be no closure in her life until she learned what had really happened to Amy Thomas.
Hayley didn’t notice the puddle that had oozed across the twisty path until she stepped right into it. She shook her wet sneaker, annoyed that she hadn’t been paying attention. Obviously, the underground sprinkler system had been at work this morning. Now that she was paying attention, she saw that droplets of water clung to every leaf and petal, soaking the ground beneath the plants.
The system was just anothe
r reminder of her mother. It had been installed the day Amy Thomas had disappeared—the last gift she had given her precious garden. It angered Hayley that Marcus had let the whole place become so overgrown. Everything was a mess except the roses. Flower beds that didn’t contain roses were in desperate need of weeding. Vines had begun to cover some of the benches sitting inside the neglected circles.
Marcus’s sudden devotion to his wife’s roses might have been mistaken for dedication to her memory in another person, but not with Marcus. His unusual interest in them right after their mother’s disappearance had rung alarm bells for Hayley and Leigh. The timing was definitely suspicious.
Maybe because she was older now, Hayley suddenly wondered if Marcus had always wanted to tend to them, but had felt unwelcome in the garden when her mother and grandfather had been alive.
It was an odd thought. Her parents had never shared anything that Hayley could recall. She and Leigh had often wondered why the two of them had stayed married. They’d lived very separate lives, sharing only the house and a few social functions.
Her mother’s religion didn’t condone divorce, but Amy and Marcus hadn’t been married in the church. Hayley suspected her mother’s decision to remain married was due more to the fact that she never broke her word once she’d given it. While she must have regretted her decision to marry Marcus, her mother had honored the contract she’d entered into with her husband.
Hayley actually knew very little about the man responsible for her birth. He’d played such a minor role in her life. It was Dennison Hart who had showered the twins with kindness, guidance and love.
Was it possible Marcus had felt crowded out there, too?
Hayley tried to banish the disturbing thought. Marcus had never seemed the least bit interested in them. Try as she might, it was impossible to picture him in the role of some tragically misunderstood figure.
Dennison Hart’s death had come a few months before their mother’s disappearance. If he’d still been alive, he would have never stopped looking for her—unlike Marcus. Despite his heart condition, their grandfather had seemed invincible—until the morning he simply hadn’t woken up.
The low murmur of a man’s voice snapped Hayley from her thoughts. Rounding a curve in the path, she came to a dead stop. Marcus was on his knees pruning a bush covered with brilliant red roses. There was no one else in sight.
“Your roses are doing well, Amy. Not a sign of black spot anywhere. You should be pleased.”
He stroked a gloved hand over the dirt almost fondly. Hayley darted out of sight. She swallowed hard, trembling all over. Could she and Leigh have been wrong about him all these years? Could Marcus actually be pining for their mother, or was this behavior related to the dementia Eden had mentioned?
Hayley felt badly shaken. This Marcus barely resembled the forbidding man she’d always known. He’d lost a great deal of weight and his thinning hair had become more white than brown. He actually looked more frail kneeling there in the dirt.
His appearance and his words had shaken her resolve to confront him. Hayley took a side path she was pretty sure would lead her back to the house and the stone fountain that had been installed along with the sprinkler system.
Seven years ago, Hayley and Leigh had been so certain Marcus had killed their mother that they’d convinced the local police chief to dig up the newly poured fountain to search for her body. Marcus had watched the proceedings in stony silence. When the police came up empty, Marcus had ordered the landscaper to repour the fountain, and had walked away. He’d barely spoken a civil word to his daughters after that day.
“I’d offer you a penny for your thoughts, but based on your expression I’m not sure I want to hear them.”
Startled from her musings, Hayley watched Bram saunter toward her.
“Something wrong, Hayley?”
A flutter of physical awareness pushed aside her bitter thoughts. His hair was mussed, his muscular arms once more naked. Sweat stained his dark T-shirt, and dirt once more smudged a pair of indecently tight jeans. A knot of unwanted need tightened inside her.
“Save your penny,” she advised him. “What are you doing out here?”
“I was getting ready to hang a window grill when I saw you walking in this direction.”
“Oh.” Nervously, she lifted her bottle of water and took a quick gulp. His dark eyes followed the move with an intensity that left her shaken.
“Hot out,” he said.
Hayley nodded, suddenly tongue-tied. He was commenting on the weather, not the slow simmer her insides were doing.
“Willing to share?”
She told her heart to stop hammering and her brain to stop jumping to conclusions. He was thirsty. The day was hot and humid. Especially for someone who spent his time over a glowing forge.
“I’ve been drinking from this bottle.”
“I’m thirsty enough to risk a few germs.”
There was nothing sensual in his tone, yet pulses of desire accompanied each beat of her heart. She thrust the bottle toward him. Their fingers touched, zapping her with tingles of electricity.
“Thanks.” Bram fit his mouth over the bottle’s opening and drank deeply, taking his time. Hayley couldn’t tear her gaze away as he swallowed, then ran a knuckle across his lips to catch the drops of moisture lingering there.
His eyes darkened to pools of rich, dark chocolate. “You shouldn’t look at a man like that,” he said softly.
Breathing became a chore. “Like what?”
“You know what I’m talking about. I’m too old to be teased, Hayley.”
The rebuke stung, partially because she deserved it. Her thoughts had been inappropriate, but he couldn’t know that.
“That’s quite an ego you carry around.”
“Think so?” He thrust the bottle toward her.
“What do you think you’re doing?” an all-too-familiar voice growled from behind them.
Chapter Four
The open bottle fell to the ground, splashing water against their legs. Bram stepped in front of Hayley. The protectiveness he’d felt last night returned in force at the sound of his employer’s angry voice.
“I’m not paying you to loiter in the garden.”
“Mr. Thomas,” he acknowledged, forcing a calm belied by every quivering muscle in his body.
Hayley tried to shove him aside. When she couldn’t, she stepped around him. “I offered him some water,” she greeted her father. “It’s hot out here.”
“I’m paying him to work, not stand around,” Marcus snarled.
“His work is finished. I don’t want bars on the doors and windows of Heartskeep.”
Bram tensed, ready to come between them once again. Hayley met her father’s fierce gaze without flinching, but the enmity between them was palpable. They seemed to have forgotten his presence.
“I’m not interested in what you want,” Marcus snapped.
“You never have been, but that doesn’t matter anymore. Heartskeep doesn’t belong to you. It belongs to me.”
Marcus took an angry step forward. Bram blocked his path. For a moment, he thought Marcus would strike him as they stood eye-to-eye. Youth as well as strength from working at the forge gave Bram an edge Marcus couldn’t hope to match. The older man must have realized this, because the fist at his side slowly unfolded. That didn’t diminish his vibrating fury, however. He transferred his glare to his daughter.
“You don’t inherit anything until you turn twenty-five, next year.”
“True. But you stopped being my legal guardian when I turned eighteen. Grandpa’s lawyer is the trustee of the estate. He’ll respect my wishes.”
“We’ll see about that.”
“Yes. We will,” she said firmly.
Marcus scowled at Bram. “Screw her on your own time. We have a contract. Get back to work.”
Hayley grabbed Bram’s arm. Only then did he realize his own hand had fisted. Marcus took a hasty step back, obviously realizing he’d go
ne too far.
Mustering his dignity, the older man whirled and strode back to the house without another word.
Bram forced his muscles to relax. “He’s your father?”
“Hard to believe, isn’t it?” Hayley released him, visibly trembling. “I’m sorry you got caught in the crossfire. Marcus may be my biological father, but the paternal role stopped there.”
Remembering the close bond he shared with his own father, Bram frowned. “That’s too bad.”
“No, it isn’t. In case you hadn’t noticed, Marcus isn’t a nice person. Certainly not someone I’m anxious to claim a relationship with.”
Bram couldn’t think of anything to say to that. He couldn’t bring himself to like the man, either, but it bothered him to see such outright hostility.
“Don’t waste your sympathy on me. My sister and I didn’t suffer from deprivation. My grandfather filled the paternal shoes with all the love anyone could ask for.”
For a second, her eyes misted. Then she sighed and looked Bram in the eye.
“I’m honestly sorry, but I have to ask you to stop working on the house now. The estate will pay you for the work you’ve already done.”
He’d seen it coming after what she’d said last night, but at her words, tension coiled in the pit of his stomach, anyhow. “I can’t do that.”
“Of course you can.”
“My contract is with your father.”
Determination tightened her features. “It isn’t a valid contract. Marcus had no right to hire you. I’m sorry, but you’re fired.”
Silently, Bram cursed. Based on what he’d just heard and seen, he had no doubt that Heartskeep belonged to her, but he couldn’t afford to be fired. He needed this job.
“You can’t fire me, Hayley. You didn’t hire me.”
“This is my home!”
Inwardly, he sighed. He didn’t want to be placed in this position, but their conversation could have only one conclusion. “Sorry. I’m a blacksmith, not a lawyer. I was hired to do a job. I’ve invested a great deal of time and money in this project.”
The Firstborn Page 6