Page 26 of From the Darkness

He didn’t answer, but she wasn’t really surprised. Feeling tired and defeated, she started back toward her room, disappointment dragging at her.

Chapter Seven

Bree spent the next few days staying out of the Sterlings’ way and doing what she called “toeing the line,” doing nothing that would cause anyone to think she was at Ravencrest for any other purpose than teaching Dinah. During school hours, her focus was as much on getting to know Dinah as on class.

But each night, she was free of any duties. She borrowed the leather-bound Ravencrest volume from the library and read about the history of the estate. Nola hadn’t made up the story about the ghost. Apparently, hewasin the habit of coming to the rooms of women guests and making sexual advances.

She grimaced. Was that what had happened to her that first night? A sex-starved ghost had foisted his attentions on her? She didn’t want to believe that was true. Yet, there had to have been a ghost-like quality to the episode. For instance, she’d never actually seen him. She went back over the encounters, examining the details—unable to prove it had been Troy or the ghost. And if it was the ghost, he didn’t come to her again.

On the other hand, if her visitor had been Troy, he had made himself just as scarce. Over the next few days, she didn’t see him—either at night or during the day. And neither did Dinah. At least that was what the child said when Bree casually asked if she’d talked to her father.

But she did see Mrs. Martindale carrying a covered tray upstairs several times.

“Is that Mr. London’s lunch?” she asked once.

The housekeeper gave her a tight nod and hurried up the stairs, confirming the claim that he really was locked in his room.

Except that he’d gotten out, hadn’t he? He’d come to her bed. The longer he failed to contact her again—if ithadbeen Troy—the more her anxiety and feeling of restlessness grew. She was making good progress with Dinah. But she was doing nothing about her primary mission.

Finally, after four days of uncertainty, she knew she had to try and find Troy—or if not find him, get some information about his situation.

After lunch, she left Dinah in the kitchen with Mrs. Martindale making cookies and went to see if she could find Graves. When she looked out the window and saw that he was busy raking up leaves in the garden, she decided to take a chance on going to the upper floor again.

***

For days he had watched her from the shadows, knowing where she went and what she did. He watched her with the child. He watched her with the other people in the house.

And in the dark hours of the night, he longed to go to her again, to kiss her and touch her, to feel her response to him, because that contact with her—that response— had transformed him.

He had been numb before she came. He had walked the corridors of Ravencrest and the grounds in a kind of daze, not sure who he was or why he was here. He remembered anger. He remembered pain. Physical pain. And the pain of betrayal, as well. She hadn’t wiped away those emotions. But she had changed him for the better. She had that power.

She had made him remember things he hadn’t even known he’d forgotten. Not everything. There were still missing pieces. But now he had access to facts. Feelings. He should thank her for that—even though some of it was agonizing. So bad, in fact, that he understood why he had banished entire episodes of his life from his mind.

On the other hand, a lot of it was good. Like the summer when he’d known he was falling in love with her. He spent long hours now, reliving those sweet memories. He had his favorites. Of course, he liked remembering how he’d awakened her sexually. How he’d kissed her and touched her and felt the thrill of her response to him. But there were other memories that were just as vivid.

Queenie, one of the bitches on the ranch had given birth to a litter of buff and brown puppies. He remembered how Bonnie had cooed over those little wiggling bodies, how she’d cuddled them in her arms and stroked her face against their baby-soft fur.

Of course, she was a different person now. Not so passive. Or so naive. He liked the change. Yet at the same time, some inner part of him was afraid to trust her. For a long time, he had trusted nobody. Not even himself. Well, nobody besides the child. She’d been like a bright beam of light shining into his dark existence.

Then Bree had come here, too. But what if she left as suddenly as she had come?

That was why he held himself back, silently vowing that the next time they met, she must come to him.

He wasn’t certain why he needed that reassurance. Maybe it was a kind of test. If she wanted the same thing he did—if she wanted it badly enough—then she would prove it to him.

So, he kept watch. And when he saw her slip the lock pick into her pocket, he felt dizzy with a kind of heart-pounding anticipation.

***

Bree took a steadying breath as her hand closed around the lock-picking kit in her pocket. In the days since her first aborted try, she’d memorized the map Helen had sent her. So, all she had to do now was head for the stairs.

All the way up, she kept expecting to feel a hand clamp onto her shoulder. But nobody accosted her.

In the upper hall, she paused to get her bearings, then headed straight for the master suite. When she reached the door, she carefully tried the knob.

It was locked.

“Troy?” she called out, pitching her voice low. He didn’t answer, but from the other side of the door came a burst of sound.

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