Lonesome Rider and Wilde Imaginings (16 page)

And yet she hadn't.

He stood before her, his hands on his hips once again.

“Out!” she commanded.

“Ah, yes, Allyssa, my love! I'm—”

“I'm not your love. And you're a deceitful wretch, whoever you are! If I catch you in here again—”

“What?” he asked, taking a step nearer.

She lowered her voice to a warning tone. “I don't know what your game is! Do you work for Darryl? If so, be warned! I'll tell him—”

“Alas! So you've come so close to him so easily! 'Tis true—there's no fool like a woman!”

“Thank you. Thank you very much. You've called me a fool and laughed at the idea that I might be beautiful. If you'll just—”

“Oh, no!” he said softly, huskily, coming closer. He took her hands in his, and still she didn't scream. She merely stared into the glittering hazel of his eyes as he murmured, “I didn't laugh at the idea at all. I find you very, very beautiful! I'm dismayed that you fell so easily under the spell of a man such as Darryl, that and nothing more.”

She pulled her hands from his quickly. “Out!” she whispered. She couldn't listen to such things, not when she was living in her distant cousin's household, not when he had been so kind. She really didn't know why she didn't scream and have this offensive charlatan thrown out of her room.

Maybe because she doubted whether anyone she had seen in the castle—including Darryl—would be capable of throwing him out.

She rubbed her wrists, staring into his eyes. Then she hurried past him, walking toward the bathroom. “I don't know who you are or just what you're after, but I want you out of my room. Now!”

She stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind her, then stood very still, listening. But she didn't hear anything.

Damn! He'd looked very casual and comfortable on her bed! And to think the English were supposed to be more conservative than Americans!

Comfortable …

And dry, she thought. How curious. He hadn't changed clothing, but his hair and clothing had dried after the rain and the mist had dampened them both.…

Well, she had left him quite some time ago. He must have spent his time in front of a fireplace.

Right. Hers.

No, he had spent some of his time spying. He had repeated Darryl's comment to her, word for word.

And he wasn't leaving! She hadn't heard a sound, not the opening of a door, not the closing of it—nothing.

She threw the bathroom door open. This was it. He could leave or she would have him thrown out, even if she had to phone the police herself!

But when she threw the door open, she discovered that he had gone. Silently.

She walked across the room uneasily. Yes, she was alone.

Still uncertain, she threw open the doors to the armoires. She looked under the bed, then sat on it, baffled.

He was really gone.

She leaped up and ran to the door, bolting it securely. Then she changed for bed and crawled in beneath the cool clean sheets and warm down coverlet. Who was he? What was he doing …?

The question would plague her forever, she thought.

But in fact it wouldn't. Jet lag very quickly got the best of her, and she slept.

She awoke to the loud and discordant strains of an argument. A fierce one.

For a few minutes the noise was only an undercurrent in her sleep. Slowly the sound became more definite, and she realized that she wasn't dreaming, that she was really hearing voices.

She leaped up and unbolted the door, opening it a crack. Yes, she could hear the argument. Darryl was involved. So was someone else. A male someone else, judging from the deep, husky tones that drifted her way.

She bit lightly on her lower lip, trying to make out their words. Despite how loudly they were fighting, she couldn't quite do it.

Then the noise level suddenly dropped. They were still arguing, but someone must have reminded them that she was sleeping upstairs. The argument was still going full steam ahead, just at a lower level.

She closed her door thoughtfully, trying to remind herself that she didn't really have anything to do with this place.

But she did. It held the answers to the haunting secrets of her past.

She rushed into the bathroom, quickly brushed her hair and teeth and applied a lick and a promise of makeup. She slid into her blouse and skirt, then hopped across the room in her hurry to slip into her shoes. She threw open the door quickly, hoping that the argumentative stranger would still be there.

He was. The argument was ensuing. It had something to do with sheep and land and the historic trust, she thought, hurrying down the stairs.

They were both at the table in the great hall. Darryl was at one end, facing her. She quickly saw that his handsome face was taut with anger.

She couldn't see the visitor at first. He was standing at the other end of the table, staring at Darryl. All she could see was a set of very strong, broad shoulders and a cap of ebony dark hair. And she could hear his voice, strong and irritated.

“It's not half so difficult as you imagine. It's the way of the new world, and if we can't be reasonable and rational and get with it, it will all be over for everyone involved!” the stranger stated angrily.

“I want no part of it!” Darryl retorted. “How much plainer can I be?” He must have noticed Allyssa then because his eyes were suddenly riveted on her, and he pushed back his chair, standing. “Allyssa. Well, we did manage to awaken you. I'm so sorry. But now that you're up, you might as well meet Brian Wilde.”

“Brian Wilde?” she murmured. She remembered the name. Brian Wilde. Along with Darryl and herself, he was the last of Paddy's surviving kin. But he didn't live in the castle. The solicitor had told her that he lived in a hunting lodge not far away.

The man at the end of the table moved quickly and impatiently to meet her. “So you've come back, Allyssa,” he said. Then he was staring at her, and she gasped softly. He was the man who had come for her last night.

He was the dark, haunting stranger at the train station.

The man who had been in her room—and on her bed.

“Why didn't you tell me who you were?” she whispered.

He frowned, staring at her. “What?”

“Why didn't you—” she began, then stopped, staring at him in return. He was going to deny that he had met her anywhere, she realized.

“Why didn't I what?” he demanded.

What was he doing? For the moment she would play it his way, but she meant to find out what was going on.

“Nothing,” she said.

He stared at her as if she were insane, his hazel eyes very intense, golden in the firelight. “Everything must be a question to you,” he said. “I'm sure you can't remember very much. You were what? Three?—when you left here, and now Darryl has reintroduced us. All these years. Imagine. Not a word from you. But now you're here. For the reading of the will. How lovely.”

He thought it was anything but lovely, from the sound of his tone. She almost felt as if she had been slapped.

But he didn't give her much time to reply. “I am truly sorry to have awakened your guest, Darryl. I'll leave you both to your happy reunion. I've work to do.” He started out the door, pausing, his eyes raking her up and down. Then he walked past her and was gone, slamming the door sharply behind him.

“Allyssa, his behavior is atrocious. I can only apologize for him—” Darryl began.

But Allyssa shook her head, already in motion. “It's all right. Just a moment. I have a word to say to him myself!”

She raced after Brian Wilde, catching him just before he could mount a tall roan horse awaiting him on the old bridge.

“Wait!” she commanded, running up to him. She must have done so with a certain authority, because he stopped, watching her darkly as she approached. “You son of a bitch!” she snapped. “How could you do it? Last night, picking me up, appearing in my room—and then pretending you've never seen me before.”

“Oh, I've seen you before,” he said.

“There! Now you admit—”

“I admit that you were the most willful three-year-old I ever met!” he told her, his eyes flashing. He pushed back a wayward lock of his ebony hair, but it stubbornly fell over his eyes, again creating the image of a handsome rake. He pointed a finger at her. “You led us all a merry chase. A pretty child grown into a fetching woman. Still collecting and breaking hearts, I wager.”

“What can you possibly know about me?” she cried furiously.

His eyes swept over her again. “They broke Paddy's heart when they took you away, that's what I know.”

“I was a child! I wasn't given a choice!”

He took a step toward her. A menacing step. “Ah, yes, but you've been grown up a few years now, eh, my girl? And Paddy's dead and buried, and here you come.”

“I didn't know—”

“Didn't you?” he demanded.

She stared at him, astonished. He was judging her without knowing a single thing about her life since she'd been three years old. And his manner had changed. Incredibly so. Why hadn't he gone through this tirade last night?

“No, I didn't know!” she snapped. Furious, she took a quick step toward him, then lashed out swiftly, slapping him hard across the cheek. “That was for last night!” she told him, spinning around to leave.

“Allyssa!” he hissed. Her heart pounded. For a moment she was certain that she had behaved not only impulsively, because of her temper, but dangerously, as well. He was going to follow her, spin her around and strike her.

But he didn't. Compelled, she paused and turned.

He was staring at her from his regal height with his gold eyes flashing.

“I'm telling you for the last time. You've gone daft, girl. I didn't see you last night. And you can play with Darryl all you like, but strike me again, Miss Evigan, and you'll pay the price.” He leaped on his horse with a swift, sure move, collecting the reins. Then he edged the animal closer, looking down at her. “I promise you that!” he vowed.

And then, to her astonishment, he rode away.

Chapter Three

D
arryl spent a large part of the morning with Allyssa, but by afternoon, he excused himself, saying that he had work to do, but she should make herself at home.

Allyssa thought about telling him that she would feel more at home if he would let her share a little of the work that went with the place, but she decided it would be tactful to wait—and not appear as if she was attempting to take over the castle. Darryl had old-world ways, some of which were very nice. He never sat until she was seated, and he never failed to open a door, but sometimes his courtesy reached the point that he seemed to be treating her like a hothouse flower. When she had first returned to the castle after her argument with Brian Wilde, she tried to find out what the two men had been fighting about. But no matter how tactfully persistent she became, he was more so—he was determined not to tell her what the fierce argument had been over.

She was going to have to find out on her own.

Several times when they spoke casually, when he walked her out to the garden, when he pointed out a piece of furniture he thought she might remember for some reason, she thought about blurting out the fact that Brian had picked her up at the station—and that he had draped himself all over her bedroom. Except that Brian had denied it so vehemently.…

What was going on? Just a matter of old rivalries?

If so, Mr. Brian Wilde certainly deserved a swift kick for keeping her in the dark about their old fights, playing disappearing tricks on her the way he did, and then denying it all!

She never did say anything about Brian to Darryl. And that afternoon, once he had gone off to do whatever it was that he had to do, Gregory suggested that she might like to ride around the estate. There were six horses in the stables, from old Betty, who could scarcely outrun a turtle, to Cignet Sam, who came quite close to being extraordinary stock.

The idea of riding around the estate appealed to her very much, and since Gregory had brought the rest of her things from the train station early that morning, she quickly donned a cotton shirt and a pair of jeans and headed out to the stables. A young man named Liam was working there with the horses and the tack, and he suggested that Lady Luck might be the best mount for her—she was surefooted over the somewhat rocky terrains Allyssa would find in places; she could jump hedges and hurdles like a champion; she could definitely beat a turtle in a race, but she was no wild, galloping killer. Allyssa thanked him and agreed with his choice. While she watched the red-haired, freckle-faced youth head into the barn, she stared out across the property. The stables were set to the rear of the castle. Fields rolled and stretched in every direction. On a distant hill she could see a flock of white sheep. Closer to where she stood were paddocks with neat fences.

“Where the shearing goes on,” Liam told her, grinning, as he returned. He gave her a rueful smile. “Ye've really got to work to keep a castle up, these days. We've chickens, too, in the back barn there. And don't tell no one now, but we've been known to raise a pig or two, even in the twentieth century. The castle is really a very fancy farm, Miss Evigan.”

“Allyssa,” she told him, smiling. Gregory could be so stiff and correct, and she had scarcely seen any of the other help in the castle, so she was glad of Liam, who seemed not only friendly, but normal, too!

He gave her general directions. “The castle property runs to the north and the west, and there're some beautiful trails through the woods along the way. If you were to head due south, ye'd come upon the village, such as she is. The inn is a right fine place, though, for a pint of ale, if ye've a mind to stop. Mrs. McKenzie runs the place, and she's right friendly, though she'll be curious as a cat's meow, if ye can imagine!”