Dreamscape (8 page)

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Authors: Rose Anderson

BOOK: Dreamscape
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Lanie hooked her arm through his and felt the firm muscle under the cloth of his sleeve.
How strange
, she thought,
a moment ago I only thought him a handsome man, now I feel lightheaded at his touch as if he and I were...
Her cheeks warmed, the telltale heat signaling a blush. How could such images even come to her mind? She knew no man intimately.

Jason felt her warm on his arm, almost as warm as when she slept. The vision expanded to her sleeping while he lay between those silky thighs, tasting her impossible sweetness. That vision expanded to her tightness around his fingers and the feel of her body trembling in climax, and that expanded his…
Stop it man, what the devil is wrong with you?
What just occurred in the waking world was capturing his imagination in this dream world, and it was all he could do to will his body to relax. He couldn’t very well enter the house with a rock-hard cock making a showing. Seeking a much-needed distraction, he said, “I wasn’t aware your father had passed. He was a good man, Lanie.”

“Thank you. I was all he had left in the world. I regret I wasn’t there in his final hours.” Across town delivering a difficult breach birth, she hadn’t been there for his passing. The fact still wrenched her heart.

Hearing her voice quaver, Jason placed a reassuring hand upon hers where it rested in the crook of his arm. It felt glorious to touch her skin upon skin. “I’m sure James wouldn’t want to see you saddened anymore than you already are at his passing.”

She explained how she hadn’t gotten home in time.

Understanding her emotion, he explained how his father had been away with the war when his mother died in childbirth. “I watched my father’s regret last for a lifetime. Leave the regret, Lanie, there’s nothing to be done for it anyway.” He felt a brief stab, recalling how his mother had screamed for hours until she was too weak to continue. There was nothing he could have possibly done as a child. He knew that. But before his father marched off with his regimen he’d said, “You’re the man of the house while I’m gone, son. You take care of your mother.” Feeling the need to say more, he told her about his own regret.

“That’s a heavy burden for a child to bear. I’m so sorry.”

“That was a long time ago, Lanie. I only mentioned it because you’re correct, it
is
a heavy burden. One your father would never want you to carry. You know as well as I these things are often out of the physician’s hands. We do our best, but we’re not gods to perform miracles. There was no guarantee my father could have saved my mother’s life, and it is the same for you. No guarantees, only our best efforts.”

She nodded. Glancing sideways, he saw her damp lashes and those lovely blue eyes brimming with tears. Feeling terrible that he had contributed to them, he stopped and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. Handing it to her, he said, “There, there. Let’s talk of other things, shall we? Now tell me what it is that you came to discuss.”

Lanie took the folded handkerchief gladly. The monogram JSB was stitched in flowing script on the white linen. “Thank you.” She dabbed under her eyes and, folding the wet corner inward, handed it back.

Rightly guessing her pending refusal, he closed her fingers around it. They were so small in his. “Keep that.”

She nodded and tucked it into her sleeve.

They found a redheaded young man trimming the hedge with great shears. “Patrick, take a moment and go to the gazebo for Miss O’Keefe’s bags, if you will.”

The young man smiled thinking the black-haired woman was very pretty. “Right away, Doctor.”

She thanked the teenage boy with a smile of her own, and he stood there thunderstruck until Jason cleared his throat. Flushing from head to toe, the young man said, “Right away.” And he ran off.

Jason led her through the foyer. Rushing forward, the housekeeper took her black bag and bonnet and set them on the hall tree.

“Addy, please see to Miss O’Keefe’s comfort while I change for dinner.” To Lanie, Jason added, “I’ll see you shortly.” With that he climbed the stairs two at a time.

“Yes, Doctor. Please come with me, miss, perhaps you’d like to wash up before dinner?”

“Yes, I’d like that very much, thank you.”

Addy took them from Patrick. “I’ll take those, Paddy. You’re tracking dirt inside with those shoes of yours.”

He looked at his feet. “Oh, I’m
dreadful
sorry, Mrs. Fairfax. I’ll clean that up right away.” He went to his knee to sweep the hedge clippings and dirt into a small pile.

Addy gave Lanie a smile. “We’ll get you settled in before dinner, Miss, just follow me. Two flights up, the housekeeper opened a door to a comfortable room and set the valise on the trunk at the foot of the bed. “I’ll return in a moment.” With that, the housekeeper closed the door behind her.

Unbuttoning her cuffs, Lanie went to the opened window to stand in the rose-scented breeze. Sure enough, the room overlooked the garden.

One floor below, Jason took a clean shirt from his étagère, marveling at the incredibly accurate detail of Lanie’s dream. An annoyed feminine voice came from the doorway. “You presume too much, Jason.”

He turned to his wife and tucking in his shirttails, asked, “How’s that, Cathy?”

“I told you we were having guests tonight, my cousin Bertha…”

“And
cousin
Richard, how could I forget.” Jason knew the brother and sister Cathy referred to as her cousins were distantly related to his wife through the second marriage of her father. There wasn’t a drop of shared blood between them. He found it a struggle to keep calm. He clearly remembered this first meeting of his murderers.

Cathy looked at him trying to find the right words. Born and raised in the south, it was Cathy’s opinion that Southern manners far surpassed the vulgar attitudes of the north regardless of the South’s defeat and subsequent thrust into poverty. Southerners would always be a class above. Her voice a harsh whisper, she said, “Well then,
why
did you invite that
stranger
to our table?”

“Miss O’Keefe is the daughter of my father’s business partner. Her father passed away recently, and she needs to speak with me about my investments. Good manners prompted me to extend the dinner invitation, Cathy, that and wanting to know just how her father’s passing affects my interest in the textile factory.”

“I wasn’t aware you also held interests in northern textile mills.”

Anticipating it now, he didn’t miss the excited edge to her voice. “Not only did my father hold a major share in rebuilding Bertha’s father’s cotton mill, he invested in several northern mills as well. My father’s interests were diverse. As they now belong to me, I need to see to them when issues arise.” When he turned to face her, his voice was calmer than he felt inside. Still, he smiled. “I know you wouldn’t want me to lose money, would you, my dear?” He could see her mind working.
No, of course you wouldn’t, you deceitful murdering bitch.

“I see the wisdom in that, all I ask is you wrap up your business as quickly as possible and send her on her way. I’ve asked Bertha and Richard to spend the holiday and the week after with us.”

“Oh?” He wracked his mind trying to recall on what holiday he’d met her accomplices.
Yes, I remember.
The town had a rather large Fourth of July celebration planned—a parade and picnic in the park. Thinking how much Lanie might enjoy that brought a smile to his heart, but his inner smile vanished when his wife spoke again.

“Yes, well, they traveled all this way, and I miss Bertha so. It just made sense to prolong the visit.”

And you miss dear Richard, too, we mustn’t forget that.
“Yes, that does make sense. It will give you an opportunity to catch up with your old friends.” He turned to the cheval glass mirror and did his tie, his eyes on her as she wove her lies.
It just made sense to prolong the visit.

Her words spurred a memory. Yes, he remembered this conversation now. He remembered talking to her reflection in this mirror. Cathy had been angry that he’d received a telegram saying the daughter of a business associate would be in town. He had planned to invite the woman to dinner. The memory came flooding back. Cathy had insisted he make other arrangements in which to conduct his business. Seeking to make his new bride happy, he had acquiesced. Had he known then what he knew now…

“Well, I hardly
know
Richard, of course, but Bertha has always spoken so highly of him.”

“Oh, that’s right, I’d forgotten you barely know each other. I recall now you telling me Bertha’s brother ran in different circles than the two of you.”

She hurried him off topic. “Yes, well anyway, please send your business acquaintance on her way as quickly as possible.”

“I won’t be rude, my dear. How long she stays will depend upon what needs to be addressed. With her father gone, the woman may need guidance. That’s the least I can do for James O’Keefe.”

“But
Jason
…” She crossed her arms, clearly piqued.

“I won’t be swayed, Cathy. When we’ve concluded all the business we need to see to then I will send her on her way, but not until everything is said that needs to be said.”

“Really I…”

His eyebrow rose, and she stopped in midsentence. “And I’ll tell you now, if it becomes more efficient for her to stay through the entire length of your cousin’s holiday as well, then I shall extend the invitation for her to do so.”

He’d never spoken to her this way before and could see a sharp retort forming on her lips. Instead, she said, “I hardly think that’s proper…”

“I’ve said my last on this, Cathy. James O’Keefe was my father’s good friend. I’ll take our work into the study, and Addy will to see to her needs as they come. Her stay will not impact your time with your cousins.”

She clamped her lips closed. This contrary Jason threw her off-kilter. It wasn’t like him not to accommodate her. She gave him her prettiest smile as she came to straighten his tie. She knew Jason thought her beautiful when she smiled.

Jason saw the pretty transformation. There was a time when her smile would have wrapped him around her little finger. But no more. He was well-acquainted with the black-hearted bitch’s motives now.

“There, that’s better,” she said, smoothing the silk under her hand, “All right, my darling, I’ll see you downstairs.” With that she left missing the tightening of her husband’s jaw.

* * * *

Lanie woke from a most interesting dream to the sound of hammering and scraping outside her window. The work on the front porch had started and here she was still in bed. Blindly reaching for the cell phone to check the time, she discovered she’d overslept by nearly two hours. She had a slight headache. “Ugh, it must have been that second glass of wine.” Though two moderate glasses spread over a five-hour evening with a heavy meal in between was hardly a bender, she never handled alcohol well.

Throwing the sheets back, she flew out of bed to wash and get dressed, all the while running through the list of to-dos in her head. There was a final day of laundry to do, all those sheers and linens from the servant’s quarters. Then she’d tackle the runner on the stairs that was getting too dangerous. Sorting the cellar was on its third day, and if it was anything like the yesterday, she’d better have her medical kit handy. There was no time to review her two dreams. The first one,
my oh my
, she’d hadn’t ever had such an erotic dream in her life. Just thinking about it now had her feeling tingly and feverish all over. The second had such detail. She couldn’t help feeling the second dream was one she needed to pay particular attention to despite how her mind sought to return to the first and add a face to it.

Both of those dreams would stay with her throughout the day because Jason would periodically enter her mind and remind her.

Where he’d normally pop from room to room at will, Jason took his time slowly walking through his house to see the results of cleaning and repairs. Lanie had done a marvelous job. His home was warm and welcoming again and curiously quite similar to how it was when he’d been a young man fresh from medical school. The inside was almost as he remembered, save for the few modernizations through the years. She’d even removed all of the uglier pieces the Mason clan had added in the last century. They never did have style, the lot of them.

He found it odd that she arranged furniture where he’d had it placed before he’d married Cathy. Were he to place Lanie next to his wife, whom he had once thought to be extremely beautiful, he couldn’t help but compare the two women. Where Cathy was honey blonde, Lanie was raven-haired. Where his wife had large brown eyes like a doe, Lanie’s eyes were indescribably blue and fringed with long dark lashes. Comparison after comparison, Lanie was more beautiful by far. What was more, Lanie had a genuine sweetness and quality of character while Cathy was like a beautiful succulent peach you bit into to only to discover the rotten core. That poisonous beauty possessed the soul of a murderer.

He watched Lanie on the stairs. Kneeling with carpet nails held tight between pink lips, her slight hand wielding a hammer much too large for it, she was doing an admirable job tacking down the runner. This time he left her tools alone. At her sensual jiggling he was taken with an overwhelming desire to kneel behind her, to grasp her hips and sink his cock into the tight heat his fingers found so delightful the night before. Damn him, if he wasn’t hard again. He wanted to talk with her again person to person. So intent was he to return to her dreams, he periodically whispered to her mind as she worked and was just about to do so again when sound coming from the foyer doorway caught his attention. He turned to find a man standing there, tall, blond, and vaguely familiar. He didn’t like the way he tipped his head to the side and appraised Lanie on the stairs, nor did he like that feral glint or the tongue that licked his lips as though he savored some unknown taste. Recognition surged into him. This was Max, one of his repeat vandals who still broke an occasional window here late at night when the street was deserted. Jason’s eyes grew large as they flew to Lanie in recognition. He’d heard the little savages that day all those years before. “Get lost, Lanie, you bitch.” Lanie,
his
Lanie, was the little black-haired girl who’d tried to stop them from vandalizing his house and for her troubles got sorely abused. Remembering her childish vow at the gate his heart swelled.
You did buy the house after all.

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