Lancelot's Lady (2 page)

Nobody had ever asked her about her dreams. For nearly two years, she had hidden herself in the nursing home in Portland,
afraid to let anyone too close. Afraid to dream.

In that bedroom, sitting beside a dying man, she found more than an employer―she found a friend. Tentatively, she told him bits and pieces about her life. It started slowly, like a gurgle of water bubbling u
p from the center of the earth.

Within an hour, Rhianna had told him all about her childhood, about the terror she had endured, and the fear and abuse that had drained her soul of all self-worth.

Chapter 2

Settling into her new job had been easy for Rhianna. JT had made it easy. Although occasionally prickly, her patient was also compassionate and kind. He gave Rhianna full run of the mansion while he napped, which was often.

As she wandered through the various rooms, admiring antique furniture, expensive ornaments and a collection of massive oil paintings in ornate frames, she caught sight of a painting in the foyer. It had mesmerized her since her first day at Lance Manor over six weeks ago. A rectangular brass plate on the bottom of the frame displayed no date or artist name, only the name of the work.

Lady in the Mist
.

On the canvas, a woman
'
s naked body, wrapped only in a thin veil of mist and caressed by soft blue moonlight. She stood in the shimmering stillness of a murky lake, her long, slender legs half-submerged in the water. Rich auburn hair cascaded down her shoulders and swirled over the peaks of firm breasts, and brilliant jade-green eyes gleamed with such yearning and expectancy. The mist rose from the lake in spiraling tendrils, like fairy hands grasping at the woman
'
s body. The wind whispered in hot, humid breaths. Water trickled from the falls above, showering the plants with glistening moisture, while the Lady in the Mist appeared to be waiting for something.

Or someone,
Rhianna thought.

Th
ere was something primal about the painting.

It was alive.

"
It
'
s a lovely painting, isn
'
t it, Miss McLeod?
"

She spun around at the sound of Higginson
'
s voice.

"
The resemblance is uncanny,
"
he observed.
"
She looks like you.
"

"
You say that every time―as if s
he predicted my arrival.
"

"
Well, look at you.
"
Higginson smiled.
"
You
'
re here. And part of the family.
"

"
You and JT have shown me the meaning of family―I
'
ll always remember that.
"

"
Don
'
t talk as if you
'
re leaving us,
"
he chided.

"
I will be. One day.
"

Rhian
na
'
s heart ached at the thought. Her job could end in a heartbeat. Or the lack of one. They both knew that. Though they
'
d given him six months at most, not even the doctors knew how much time JT really had left.

It had been difficult at first, watching a grown man waver between being fully cognizant one moment and barely lucid the next. Some days he had a hard time remembering the simple things, like how to tie his shoes or the cream went in his coffee not over his eggs. But she loved the old man. JT was like the father she
'
d never had.

Orphaned at birth, she
'
d been sent to live with her mother
'
s sister, until Aunt Madeline and Uncle Bernard died in a ferry accident. After the funeral, Rhianna went into foster care and remained there until she was sixteen. The last place
she was sent to was the home of Gwen and Peter Waverley. She spent three long years there―three years of hell.

She shook her head.
The past is the past.

Flicking a look at Higginson, she noticed a single tear had escaped down his cheek. The man was a loya
l employee, more like a companion and dear friend than a well paid butler. He
'
d been with JT for over twenty years. They often argued over business matters, yet JT always respected him, and
that
had won the butler
'
s eternal devotion.

"
There
'
s something magnetic about her,
"
Higginson said, before leaving her alone.

Rhianna
'
s gaze was drawn back to the mysterious canvas. She often felt the woman in the painting was watching her. The artist had captured the sensual yearning in the young woman
'
s expression, a s
ense of desperation, torment and passion that haunted her beautiful eyes. However, there was one thing that stood out―a flaw of sorts. The artist
'
s signature was illegible.

"
Good evening, dear.
"

Turning, Rhianna smiled as JT approached.
"
You
'
re wearing you
r new robe.
"

He frowned.
"
New? Oh, yes. I can
'
t seem to find my other one.
"

She
'
d given him a new bathrobe when he turned sixty-seven a week ago, but every now and then he
'
d forget about it and go in search of the ratty, threadbare one that she and Higginson had secretly thrown out.

"
Why didn
'
t you answer me when I called your name?
"
he asked.

"
Sorry, I was daydreaming.
"
She glanced at the painting.
"
It
'
s so beautiful I get lost in it.
"

"
I know, dear. It
'
s your favorite.
"

"
Who
'
s the artist?
"

JT
'
s eyes went cloudy.
"
What artist?
"

She indicated the painting.

"
I don
'
t have a clue.
"
He frowned.
"
I think I knew once, but…
"
His voice trailed away.

"
It
'
s okay, JT.
"

"
What is?
"
he asked, bright-eyed again.

She let out a sigh. JT
'
s memory lapses were becoming more frequent.

Higginson approached them.
"
Everything is ready, sir.
"

"
Then let
'
s get this show on the road.
"

JT winked and Higginson disappeared down the hall.

"
What
'
s going on?
"
she asked JT.
"
You should be upstairs resting.
"

"
I
'
ll have plenty of time for that when I
'
m dead.
"

Her eyes watered.
"
Don
'
t say that.
"

"
I
'
m sorry, dear. You know I wouldn
'
t hurt you for all the world, but if I
'
m going to die soon I might as well enjoy life now.
"
He gave her a secretive smile.
"
Anyway, I can
'
t very well miss tonight
'
s celebration, can I?
"

"
What celebration?
"

He frowned.
"
Your birthday party, dear girl.
"

Oh no.
This was the last thing Rhianna wanted.

"
It
'
s no big deal,
"
she mumbled.

"
No big deal?
"
JT
'
s arm swept across her shoulders.
"
My dear Rhianna, you
'
re twenty-five now. When you
'
re as old as I am, you
'
ll be thankful for every single birthday you ever had. It means you lived one more year, saw one more year of sights and loved one year longer.
"

She smiled.
"
I suppose you
'
re right.
"

"
Of course I
'
m right. Besides, I have to dance with the birthday girl at least one time.
"
He kissed her forehead.
"
You know, my birthday is coming up soon. I
'
ll be sixty-seven.
"
He frowned and scratched his chin.
"
Or is it seventy-six?
"

She didn
'
t have the heart to tell him he
'
d had it already.

His sudden burst of energy the past few weeks worried her. So did his insistence upon having a glass of brandy every night before bed, even though it was against doctor
'
s orders. He
'
d been given six months. That was three weeks ago.

JT took her arm for support.
"
Take me to the dining room. And no arguing.
"

The first thing she saw when they entered the room was the bouquet of pink and mauve roses in a crystal vase. Instead of being positioned as a centerpiece, it sat on her plate. Beside the rose bouquet was a large box wrapped in pastel paper and tied with a lop-sided pink bow.

"
I couldn
'
t quite get that blasted bow right,
"
JT muttered.

"
Oh, JT,
"
she said, not sure if she wanted to laugh or cry.
"
You didn
'
t have to buy me anything. I
'
m your employee.
"

"
No, Anna, you
'
re like a daughter to me.
"
JT
'
s eyes widened.
"
Well, go on. Open it.
"

Some days he
'
s just like a child,
Rhianna thought, bending her head so he wouldn
'
t see how much his thoughtfulness meant to her.

Blushing, she pulled out a mint green bikini with tiny lavender rosebuds on it.
"
I, uh…thank you.
"

"
There
'
s more,
"
JT prodded.

Under a layer of tissue lay two sheer skirt-wraps and a pair of white leather sandals.

"
This is very generous of you, JT, but I
'
m not sure where or when I
'
d ever wear these. They
'
re not very practical for a nurse.
"

JT
'
s eyes twinkled.
"
That
'
s the point, Rhianna. Look how I had to argue with you just to get you to wear normal clothes instead of those ghastly nurse uniforms that only remind me that I
'
m dying.
"
He smiled.
"
Besides, a pretty gal like you should be spoiled on her birthday. Someone needs to remind you that life is for living, not for holing up in an empty house with a cranky old geezer like me.
"

"
Well, you do know how to spoil a girl.
"
She grinned.
"
And I suppose if I have to put up with a
'
cranky old geezer
'
like you, I
'
ll survive. If nothing else, you keep things interesting.
"

"
Now for the real gift,
"
JT announced.

Higginson handed him a white business envelope before vanishing from the room.

Rhianna frowned.
"
Where
'
s he going, JT?
"