Lancelot's Lady

by Cherish D'Angelo

  "Misty?" Must be Tyler's wife.

  The woman smiled. "You'll like her, Ms. McLeod."

  "Please…call me Rhianna."

  "Misty spends most of her days now with Mr. Tyler," Mrs. Atkinson said, bustling around the kitchen in an effort to tidy up. "So I expect you'll have a lot of alone time here."

  "That's fine. I don't mind being on my own."

  Rhianna was dazed by the realization that there was another woman on the island. It would explain the feminine touch in the décor of the house, and all the flowers inside and out. It would be a relief to share some female conversation, especially if Mrs. Atkinson only made an appearance before the meals. Maybe Misty would provide her with the necessary diversion, so Rhianna could keep her mind from straying to a lean, muscled man with wavy black hair and features so finely chiseled that he resembled an ancient Roman god.

  She gave her head a sharp shake.

  Where did that come from?

  With platter in hand, Rhianna determinedly brushed away all thoughts of Jonathan and his muscles and stepped out onto the deck. She returned to the lounger and picked at the cheese and vegetables. Her stomach was tied in knots, but as the day progressed, she relaxed and forgot all about the mysterious Tyler and his wife.

  And the exasperating handyman Jonathan.

  ~ * ~

  Just after seven that evening Rhianna heard the front door slam.

  Misty? Or Jonathan?

  She waited, but no one joined her.

  "If the mountain won't come to Mohammed…"

  She strolled through the house, expecting to be greeted by a beautiful, fashionable woman. It was the least she'd expect from the wife of Tyler, the mystery man who obviously had money. How else could he afford his own island in the middle of paradise?

  She paused at the bottom of the stairs.

  A door closed overhead.

  Taking a deep breath, Rhianna climbed the stairs, hoping to God that curiosity wouldn't kill the cat. She had a lot more living to do.

  Upstairs, something thumped on the floor.

  She hurried up the last six steps. A quick glance down the hallway showed only one closed door. It was at the opposite end of the house from Rhianna's room. She paused in front of the door. Knocking on it, she waited nervously. But there was no answer.

  She knocked again. "Hello in there."

  A chill swept over her and she shivered. She didn't believe in haunted houses, but the unearthly silence paired with her conviction that someone lurked within the room behind the door unnerved her.

  She pressed her ear against the wood. Someone was moving about―or something.

  "I know you're in there," she snapped.

  She tested the doorknob. It was unlocked.

  This is ridiculous, she thought. Why are they ignoring me?

  "I'm coming in."

  She pushed the door, then sucked in a startled breath.

  The room was inhabited by shadows. Someone had pulled the heavy blinds down low, so that no light entered the room. In the far corner a table lamp bestowed warm golden light in a small radius, illuminating an elaborately carved rocking chair with its back to the door. The chair creaked and rocked, slowly but with purpose, and although Rhianna couldn't make out the person sitting in the chair, there was no doubt it was occupied.

  By human or ghost, she wasn't quite sure.

  She stepped into the room, expecting the person to acknowledge her presence by jumping from the chair or whirling around.

  Nothing happened.

  Light from the hall glowed amidst the shadows, and the eerie silence―save the creaking―awarded the rocking chair ethereal, ghostlike properties.

  Rhianna felt a surge of fear. Her palms grew sweaty and she wiped them on her pants.

  Holding her breath, she approached the chair.

  "Hello?"

  Creak, creak, creak…

  "Sorry I'm interrupting but I―"

  She froze as the chair's occupant came into view.

  A young girl of six or seven stared back at her, her small fingers clamped on the armrests. The contrast of jet-black hair and pale ivory skin made the child's eyes seem unnaturally large and luminescent.

  Rhianna smiled. "Well, hi there."

  The girl watched her, but said nothing.

  Rhianna reached out to touch the girl's curly mop of hair and was startled when the child twisted her head away.

  She's afraid of me.

  "What's your name?" Rhianna asked.

  No response.

  "My name is Rhianna. I'm visiting. From Florida."

  Suddenly, the child leaped from the chair and ran toward the door, while Rhianna watched in dismay.

  "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

  Rhianna followed the girl into the hallway and was surprised to see her enter the room next to hers. The girl had left the door slightly ajar, so she peeked inside.

  It was a room right out of a fairy tale. Unicorns danced on the walls, a castle dollhouse stood in one corner and a brass canopy bed was situated between two window seats. A waist-high bookshelf held assorted children's books and a leafy glass terrarium with two live chameleons.

  Everything was in its place.

  Except the child. She was gone.

  A quick survey of the room told Rhianna there were few hiding spots. She knocked on the closet door and opened it slowly. No girl.

  That left one other hiding place.

  She walked slowly toward the canopy bed.

  "You have a beautiful room."

  The toe of a black shoe peeked out from beneath the frilly bed skirt. In a flash it was gone.

  "I'm sorry." Rhianna knelt on the rug by the bed. "I didn't mean to scare you."

  She peered under the bed. "There you are. Why don't you come out of there?"

  The girl shook her head.

  "Please. My name is Rhianna."

  The girl made rasping noises in the back of her throat.

  "What's wrong?" Was she ill?

  Strange sounds erupted from the girl, sounds that were familiar to Rhianna. Thinking back to the books she'd discovered in the den, she realized it all made sense now.

  The child was deaf.

  Chapter 7

  "My name is Rhianna," she signed. "What's your name?"

  "Misty," the child replied, her hand carefully forming each letter. "I don't want to talk to you."

  "I'm not here to hurt you. I just―"

  "Go away!"

  Misty turned away, but Rhianna tapped her shoulder and signed, "Is Tyler your father?"

  "Yes, now go away. I don't want you here. I hate school, and I hate teachers."

  "I'm not a teacher. I'm a guest."

  Misty wandered over to the shelf, reached into the terrarium and gently stroked one of the chameleons.

  Rhianna flinched. If there was one thing she didn't like it was lizards. And bugs. And snakes.

  Misty spun around, a glimmer of a smile on her face. She held out her hand and the tiny lizard scampered up her arm. She beckoned for Rhianna to take the chameleon.

  Rhianna shivered. "No, thank you."

  The lizard reached the girl's amber t-shirt and began changing color.

  Misty watched Rhianna for a minute, then the girl's eyes narrowed and she moved closer.

  "It's okay," Rhianna signed. "I'm not big on lizards."

  But Misty ignored her, rushing forward and placing the chameleon on the front of Rhianna's dress, just above the waist.

  "Please get it off me, Misty."

  Rhianna held out her arms and held back a shriek as the lizard scurried up her dress toward her face, its tail slowly turning teal.

  "Misty, please!" she signed.

  The girl just stood there grinning, especially when Rhianna started dancing a nervous jig, pinching the front of her dress and holding it away from her skin.

  "Help me! Get this thing off me!"

  Misty's gaze drifted past Rhianna, her grin widening.

  In al
l the commotion and panic, Rhianna was unaware that someone else had entered the room.

  "What's going on here?" a deep voice thundered.

  Oh crap. Jonathan.

  As Rhianna turned to face him, the chameleon moved to the neckline of the dress. She nearly fainted when the creature cocked its head to one side and stared at her. She glanced up, pleading for help, but Jonathan met her gaze with a scowl.

  "I see I can't leave you alone unsupervised without you getting into trouble."

  "Are you talking to me?" she asked in a heated voice.

  "Who else?"

  With all the dignity she could muster, she looked him in the eye and raised her chin. "Can you please get this creature off me?"

  Jonathan eyed the chameleon. Then his gaze moved from the lizard to the soft swells of her breasts and up to the curve of her neck. Her skin burned as if he'd lit a match along the way.

  "Please," she whispered.

  He frowned. "It's just a chameleon. They don't bite."

  He plucked the lizard from the neckline of her dress, his knuckles grazing her skin, sending a tingle through her body.

  Relief, she told herself. That's all I'm feeling.

  Jonathan returned the unfortunate creature to its habitat, then looked at Misty. "I see you've met the real boss, Ms. McLeod."

  "I know she's Tyler's daughter."

  "My daughter."

  "Your daughter? But I thought…"

  "Yeah, I know."

  There was more to the sudden twinkle in Jonathan's eye. The cad was actually laughing at her, and he wasn't even trying to hide it.

  "But if she's your daughter, then that means you're…"

  "Jonathan Tyler." He bowed mockingly. "At your service, ma'am. But everyone around here calls me Tyler."

  Rhianna glared at him. "And all this time you let me go on about your boss, about how I was going to report you." Her face grew flushed. "Of all the―"

  "Yes?" His brow arched, daring her to continue.

  Thankfully, Misty interrupted them by throwing a book at Rhianna, who ducked just in time. The girl ran around her bedroom, shrieking in a raspy voice and knocking toys and books on the floor.

  "Misty!" Jonathan yelled and signed at the same time.

  Teary-eyed, Misty tugged on his sleeve, and her hands moved slowly. "Daddy, is she my new teacher?"

  "No," he signed.

  Rhianna noticed the cruel twist to his lips. He was taking great pleasure, savoring that single word.

  "Jonath―Tyler, whoever the heck you are, you don't have to be so―"

  "Misty's worried that I've hired you to replace Mrs. Vermont." He reached out, stroking his daughter's unruly curls. "I'm simply reassuring her that that's not the case."

  "What happened to the teacher?"

  "Which one?" He gave her a wry smile. "Misty's been through three teachers in the past seven months. She can be a bit of a handful, and it's hard to find someone with experience in teaching ASL and in dealing with…well, let's say her streak of stubbornness." His voice grew gentle as he watched his daughter. "I don't know what to do with her anymore."

  "What about your wife? Can't she home-school Misty?"

  He looked at her, his jaw clenched and eyes burning with contempt. "Her mother is no longer in the picture. And even if she was, she'd be absolutely useless."

  Rhianna swallowed hard. "That's kind of harsh, don't you think? I mean, she is Misty's mother."

  He grabbed her arm and pulled her into the hallway.

  "My wife abandoned us seven years ago, Ms. McLeod. She left us the day the doctor confirmed that Misty was deaf―the day she found out she didn't have a perfect child."

  Rhianna's mouth gaped in shock.

  How could a mother voluntarily leave her own child―especially a deaf, yet beautiful little girl who needed her?

  She thought of her own mother, of the tragic car accident that had ripped Rhianna from her parents and forced her to grow up afraid, abused and so alone.

  "I didn't know," she whispered.

  "Of course you didn't," he snapped. "You're a stranger here. You know nothing."

  "You're right."

  He was silent.

  "I-I'm really sorry."

  Her apology seemed to diffuse his anger. His shoulders relaxed, his hands unclenched and his mouth softened. She couldn't take her eyes off his lips.

  He looked at her for a long moment, then glanced away. "It's a touchy subject. My apologies, Ms. McLeod."

  When they entered Misty's bedroom, Rhianna studied the small child with the wild hair and untamed temperament.

  "There must be a suitable teacher on the mainland," she suggested. "One that's qualified."

  Jonathan shook his head. "I think we've gone through them all. I'll have to put an ad in some of the other island newspapers."

  Misty sat on her bed and played silently with two Barbie dolls. She was mimicking an argument, one that resulted in one of the dolls slapping the hands of the other. After a moment, the girl raised her head and locked eyes with her.

  "I'll do it."

  The words were out of Rhianna's mouth before she could even contemplate the consequences.

  ~ * ~

  Taken aback, Jonathan gawked at her. With auburn hair framing a heart-shaped face, Rhianna McLeod sure didn't look like any teacher he'd ever met.

  I could probably teach her a thing or two.

  Unable to resist, he glanced at her full lips covered only with a touch of pink gloss. He wondered what it would be like to kiss those lips. What would she taste like? Cotton candy came to mind.

  "You'll teach my daughter?"

  "Yes."

  "The last teacher said Misty is uncooperative and undisciplined. Why do you think you'll have any better luck?"

  There was a spark of challenge in her eyes.

  "It's not a matter of luck. It's a matter of trust."

  He smiled. "You think you can get Misty to trust you?"

  She shrugged.

  "And why should I trust you, Ms. McLeod?"

  "Because you've got no one else."

  He leaned one hip against the wall and crossed his arms. "There's a private school for deaf children in Miami. They have a great success record. I've been thinking of maybe sending her there."

  "You'd send your own daughter away?" she asked, shocked. "To live with strangers?"

  "It's not the best scenario, but it might be better for her."

  "How can you be so insensitive?"

  "Maybe it's what she needs."

  "Misty needs her father," she hissed. "Not some cold institution surrounded by strangers."

  "It's just an option. I'm not ready to make that kind of decision yet, but it might be good for her. She'll have other children to play with, proper education, and―"

  "And it'll be the worst mistake you ever made."

  Her words cut him deeply. "Why do you say that?"

  "Trust me. I know what it's like to be separated from your parents. And to be foisted off on strangers. You don't want that for Misty. Or for yourself."

  Rhianna was right. He couldn't jeopardize his relationship with Misty. He loved his daughter far too much.

  "So what do you suggest I do, Ms. McLeod?"

  "Well, for starters, you can call me Rhianna."

  His lips lifted on one side. "I can do that…Rhianna."

  She moved toward the door. "If I'm going to be here for six weeks, then I want to help out. I have certain skills that might be useful."

  "Are you experienced?" he asked.

  She spun around. "P-pardon me?"

  "Are you experienced? As a teacher?"

  She let out a soft hiss of air. "No, I've never taught before. But I'm a nurse, Mr. Tyler, and one of my clients was deaf. I'm quite fluent in ASL."

  "I see. Then that's what you can do. To be useful."

  "Thank you, Mr. Tyler."

  He frowned. "There is one rule though."

  "What's that?"

  "If I'm to cal
l you by your first name, then I'd appreciate it if you did the same."

  "Jonathan it is," she said. "Or would you prefer I call you Tyler like everyone else here?"

  "Jonathan is fine." He grinned and extended a hand. "Let's seal the deal then, Rhianna."

  She tentatively placed her hand in his. The sudden warmth caught him off guard. Seconds later she withdrew her hand and he clenched his fist, missing the softness of her touch. An unexpected need surged through him, a yearning so intense that the only thing he could do was watch her walk away.

  He released a pent-up sigh.

  Rhianna McLeod had a strange effect on him.

  And he didn't like it one little bit.

  ~ * ~

  "I'll read you a story when you're in bed," Rhianna offered.

  Misty gave her a suspicious look. "Why?"

  The question stumped Rhianna.

  "Because I'd like to," she signed. "Don't you like books?"

  With an eager nod, Misty smiled. "Yes."

  Rhianna grinned back. Score one for the new teacher.

  She glanced at Jonathan. He watched them from the corner of his eye, yet tried to appear disinterested.

  "You want to read to her?" she signed.

  Jonathan's face reddened. "I'm afraid my signing skills are worse than hers."

  Her eyes widened in surprise. "I'm sorry. I assumed from the books in the den that you were fluent."

  "I'm trying to learn." He glanced at his daughter. "For Misty's sake."

  "Believe me, I understand. Signing comes more naturally to children than adults."

  "Misty's sign language is limited," he said. "Her teachers said her communication skills were lacking because she wouldn't study. They blamed it on Misty's disruptive behavior."

  Rhianna frowned. "I think it's the other way around."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Because she can't communicate well, she's frustrated, and that leads to her behavior problems."

  "According to the last teacher, Misty is the most rebellious, impatient and stubborn six-year old she'd ever met."

  She shot him a smug look. "I wonder where she gets it from."

  Jonathan actually grinned. "Yeah, I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

  Caught up in his smile, she barely heard him.

  He's very handsome when he smiles.

  She cleared her throat. "I don't mean to pry, but what have the doctors said? Can they do anything for Misty?"