Page 11 of Hidden Raphael
Chapter 4
Kimberly set the glasses on a dining room table that had belonged to some ancient Scottish lord and shifted on her feet in the black dress she had found in her room.
A ding of the grandfather clock chimed in the air.Bing.She shouldn't be here.Bing.Images formed in her mind of the plane crash.Bing.The crash had changed everything.Bing.She hated that clock and covered her ears.
If she lived in one of her books, some dragon creature would be hanging out the window. A smile formed on her face and she opened her eyes.Bing.A whoosh sound in the dark hallways out the door must be the wind. Life was nothing like a book.
She was stuck here. With a determined shake of her head, she fixed the plates.
The clunk of heavy footsteps, like boots, echoed in the hall. A shadow of a giant figure loomed into the room, and she braced herself. Her hands rattled the spoons.
A moment later Raphael, dressed all in black, complete with his trench coat and thick turtleneck, stepped into the room. She took a step backward, but his voice boomed, "There you are."
Where else would she be? She steeled her spine. "I've made you dinner, sir."
"Sir?" He stood taller, like she'd insulted him and he might scold her. "You're not my servant."
She tilted her head. Meg called him master, but that would never come out of her mouth.
"You hired me as a cook." Kimberly lifted her chin. "Until I find a way out of here, I have accepted, which makes me the hired help."
His dark green eyes smoldered in the candlelight and he leaned against the door, his biceps flexing. Her mouth fell open slightly, her heart hammering.
"We're in the twenty-first century. Let's not make this difficult. Let's just eat. Besides, I'd like your company tonight."
Why?She held her tongue on the question. She was pretty sure he hadn't wanted to be around her. Did he have news? She had to be safe from Roger. "Where were you today?"
He crossed his arms and new muscles became clear. Her body temperature heated. "Because of the storm, I had some natural camouflage. I took the opportunity to scout."
She took a deep breath, then stared back into his "melt me to my core" sexy stare. She blinked and tried to stay calm. "What did you see?"
His face became solemn and he held his jaw tight. "I saw a camp."
"What about the pilot?" Was it wrong to want someone dead? She swallowed. With all the yoga, meditation, and be-a-better-person classes she'd taken, it seemed wrong. She lowered her eyelashes.
He took a step into the dining room and she stared at his black boots. She sighed. Today the heat in her now came from feet? She shook her head. He held his arms to his sides. "I never saw him. I'll go back tomorrow, when the storm clears."
For a moment he glanced at something small in his hand that caused his eyes to darken. Then he tucked it in his pocket. She blinked, unsure if she should wonder. Then he took off his black trench coat and offered her a small smile. “The storm and winter have made repairing the wires impossible around here. You should carry matches for the candles. I set up candelabra everywhere.”
“Of course, not a problem.” She picked up her spoon and tried to find something else to talk about. She gulped then decided to go slowly. Meg had mentioned warrior blood, and she ought to find out more about Raphael other than his muscular frame. She’d take her first guess. "What branch of the government did you work for?"
"That's classified." Seriously? He must have worked for them with that answer. He joined her at the table and sat next to her. Talk about closed off. What was his problem? He answered then served the stew. "What do you do for a living?"
"I'm a blogger." She lowered her eyelashes and couldn’t meet him in the eyes. She did what she did to make a little money. She felt his judgment against her forehead even if she didn’t see into his eyes. "Some political stuff, but mostly celebrity trash talk. Guess I'm out of a job."
His eyes widened, but then his cheeks gained a little redness. "You spill secrets from the South Pacific?"
She did miss her computer, and hoped it had somehow survived the crash. "With the internet, I can live anywhere, and most of the stuff I write about celebrities is total fiction." She shrugged, but his grim expression meant he was on edge. Her body relaxed a bit, but then she pushed. "Pass the bread. Why did you choose to stay in your castle when the boat came for everyone else?"
"Okay. I know you don't like the answer and keep asking, Kimberly." He picked up the bowl and set it closer to her. She glanced into his eyes and saw pools of blackness in his pupils. She stiffened and braced herself for his words. "I prefer to be off the grid. Roger is a big problem. Your plane crash came at the worst time imaginable for me."
She nodded. She’d honor his privacy, though she itched to ask him what he was hiding. "Are you building the Frankenstein monster in the attic or something?"
She clamped her mouth shut. A winter outside would not be good for her. She had never lived in temperatures lower than fifty degrees on a rare day.
He smirked. "No."
She held her tongue and hoped for more. Her ears burned a bit, and she glanced down at the table. The wind in the halls echoed almost as a scream through the room, and the candles flickered.
