Minding Amy (22 page)

Tall Gables eventually rose up on the horizon, a Tudor mansion nestled against the outstanding landscape. The private lane that led up to the hotel wound through the most beautifully wooded acres of private estate Amy had ever seen. The hotel, a stately manor house of the first order, stood majestic at the end of the lane. Amy could just picture the horses and carriages of a bygone age pulling up to the impressive reception portal. Instead, a row of parked cars lined up on either side of the entrance. She readied herself to go inside and check in. It was a cool and determined gesture. She'd resolved to be level headed and professional, despite the drop-dead gorgeous man beside her, the wild passion they had shared, and the catalogue of misunderstandings and disasters that had milestoned their brief time together.

The sex had been brilliant and they'd had a whole lot of fun. But she had to draw a line under their intimacy, right now, and get on with her life. If he was retracting and protecting himself, then so must she. The only problem Amy could foresee was the sleeping arrangements. She'd booked them a double room because she'd assumed they would be carrying on their affair while they continued to pursue the case. It didn't matter, she could handle it. She'd been turning it over in her mind for the past thirty miles and she'd decided to go to reception and request two separate rooms, before Sebastian had a chance to notice.

He began to slow the Land Rover down as he drove through the parking area.

"If you stop the car, I'll go and check-in, while you get parked up."

He pulled in at the entrance steps and drew the vehicle to a halt. "Okay."

"Thank you." She grabbed her handbag and leapt down from the vehicle. He looked at her with curiosity. She ignored it. As soon as he began to pull away, she darted up the steps and through the swing doors.

She tossed back her hair, confidently reassuring herself that she would be able to negotiate with the reception personnel before he had time to get in. What a shame to have to ask for separate rooms, when they could be together. Indecision raked over her. Physical desires had intruded on her logic. She shoved the lusty thoughts out of her mind and reminded herself how much she'd overcome in the last week. She had stepped outside of the Women's Page office and was tackling something different. She was traveling the length of Britain in search of evidence. She'd even overcome her fear of spooky houses.

The reception area was bright and active, surprisingly so for the time of day. Almost all the available lounge seating in the area was occupied. Guests sat together in the comfort of the lounge seats, nursing cocktail glasses as if they had totally chilled out already. She glanced over her shoulder as she walked to the reception desk, but mercifully there was no sign of Sebastian as yet. She would have to hurry. A man in uniform stood close by, but she banged her hand on the brass bell, nevertheless. She didn't have any time to waste. Sebastian would arrive at any moment.

The uniformed man turned toward her, peering at her haughtily over his half-moon spectacles. "Yes, Madam?"

He regarded her with the steady calm of a man who knew he had the keys to her sleeping area when she was tired and far from home.

Deal with it
. She was a City News journalist on a mission. She needed her own space. "Hello, I have a booking but if it at all possible I'd like to alter it."

It was the right thing to do. She couldn't afford to be distracted by Sebastian's presence any more, and she couldn't afford to fall in love with him along the way. Hang on, her inner voice interrupted.
Love
?

Confusion and panic sped through her veins. Where the hell had that notion come from? She couldn't afford to fall in love.

The man moved his fingers over the keyboard of his computer and tickled the mouse with a nonchalant hand. "Name?"

"Norton." Just as she prepared to explain the bedding situation, the man's eyes became fixed on the mid distance. She turned to follow his gaze. As she did a loud bang followed by a bloodcurdling scream echoed through the reception area.

Amy's heart tripped.
What the…?

Several of the guests in the reception area had risen to their feet. An eerie silence descended. Amy pressed back against the wall of the reception desk, her fingers clutching at it for support. Everything in the reception area froze, all heads turned toward a doorway opening into another lounge area. As if bidden by their stares, an elderly man staggered out toward them. The hairs on the back of Amy's neck stood up. His hand was clutched his chest, a trickle of blood oozing through his fingers. His eyes were fixed, his mouth open in an expression of horror.

"The assailant must have headed into the gardens, that way," a man with a large handlebar moustache declared, pointing back at the lounge area.

Amy stared at the injured man staggering toward the reception, as if trying to exit the building before he collapsed. She felt dizzy, sick. The room started to spin. His hand was clenched over his heart, the blood now spreading in a patch across his shirt.

"Amy."

Sebastian
. His voice reached her just as Amy crumpled against the reception desk and blacked out.

Chapter Fourteen

"I'm terribly sorry, sir," mumbled the bespectacled receptionist.

Sebastian ignored him. The man had been offering constant apologies for the past minute and a half, as if he was afraid Sebastian might be about to sue the establishment.

"It was uncanny that you arrived just as the murder mystery weekend party reached its crescendo." The man gave a nervous smile. "I have to confess we've had an incident like this before, that's why we clearly post the event outside, warning people the event is happening."

Sebastian nodded. He'd spotted the signs announcing "Tall Gables, home of the legendary Agatha Christie Murder Mystery Getaways," on the way in. An additional banner had been pasted on the billboard stating: "August Murder Mystery IN ACTION NOW."

Amy hadn't seen it, obviously.

She'd got all fidgety before they arrived then she'd shot right past the sign at breakneck speed. Sebastian looked down at her with concern. She looked so beautiful, lying there with a cushion under her head, her face pale but relaxed. He wanted their former intimacy restored. The car journey had been downright painful. He'd vowed to be business-like then she'd turned up looking so bloody hot he couldn't think straight. Then the more he'd tried to get them on stable ground the more upset she had looked. And now here they were and he was worried sick about her.

The receptionist kept offering banal platitudes from beyond but he ignored them. He didn't give a damn why it had happened, he just wanted to wrap her in his arms and take care of her.

"Could you all please back off and give her some air," he demanded, loudly, at the small crowd of curious onlookers. The fainting incident apparently held as much interest for the spectators as did their murder mystery, but the fainting incident was a real-life drama, the other was mere entertainment.

"Sorry old chap," said a man with a handlebar moustache.

He had to be part of the ridiculous fake murder set up, Sebastian thought to himself, shaking his head. Thankfully, the handlebar took the lead and ushered the other guests away.

"Sebastian?"

She was coming round. Sebastian leaned over her. Her rich brown eyes flickered open, a small frown gathering on her forehead as she squinted up at him.

Relief flooded through Sebastian. "It's okay, it's one of those murder mystery events and you walked into the middle of it, poor sweetheart."

"Oh no, but…" She frowned then her expression lifted. "Oh, have I made an idiot of myself all over again?"

"You're adorable," he murmured, unable to hold the words back.

"I'm a dizzy, useless bimbo, is what I am." She was amused, her eyes filled with warmth and humor. Her hand rested on his arm, gently squeezing him for reassurance.

"Hush, I'll check us in, you relax. You've had a bit of a bump and you need to rest."

"Ew." Her hand went instinctively to her bottom, where she had smack landed.

He couldn't resist. He slipped his fingers under hers, lifting her hand away. "Hey, careful, I'll tend it for you when we are alone."

"Mmm," she hummed, and her expression was filled with invitation.

A second wave of relief flooded through him. Her fingers trapped his against her body. He smiled down at her. She pouted her mouth into a kiss, winking at him.

"Well, Madam certainly seems to be recovering." It was the annoying little receptionist, and his announcement was both loud and imperious.

Amy looked past Sebastian's shoulder at the man, and giggled. Perhaps she had been affected by the fall, Sebastian realized, his concern levels rising again.

"Can you get me the key to our room," he growled at the man. "I'll carry her."

The receptionist strolled off and returned seconds later with their key. He passed the key to Sebastian and Amy's handbag to her. Sebastian tucked the key into his hip pocket and lifted Amy easily into his arms.

"Comfy?" he asked, when she rolled in against his chest.

"Oh yes," she whispered, looking up at him with dreamy eyes.

Sebastian took a deep breath. With her looking all soft and vulnerable like that, he was going to have to arm himself with a steely resolve, or he'd be ravishing her as soon as he got her inside the privacy of their room.

As if she had read his mind she winked at him. "I could get used to this," she added.

He couldn't help smiling. He set off in the direction of the lift, the straggle of curious onlookers parting as he swept through the reception.

"I have to say, this is another one of my fantasies you're making real here."

"What is?" he replied, stabbing at the buttons inside the lift with one finger poking out from under her knees. He managed to hit the right floor and the lift whirred onto action.

"Being carried to our bed in your arms."

Sebastian looked down at her. Her eyes were still dreamy, her mouth smiling gently. When the doors of the lift closed them in, she stroked one hand against his cheek. Our bed. She'd said our bed. A deep sense of yearning built inside him, a hankering need. He wanted to carry her to bed every night. He wanted to keep her safe in his arms, forever. He turned his face into her fingers and kissed them.

"Oh, I say." The lift doors had opened and an elderly lady stood waiting to get in, staring at them. She was neat as a pin in a navy blue suit and pearls. Sebastian turned to her and apologized, then eased out past her.

"Oh please don't apologize, young man, that was the most romantic thing I've seen in years," she called after them, waving as the lift doors closed on her.

Amy started to laugh and his chest knotted with pleasure. It was good to see her recovering.

"You could put me down," she said, when they reached the door and he stood there wondering how to get the key out of his pocket.

"How about you try to reach the key?" He didn't want to let her go, not yet.

"I can try." She rested her bag on her lap then dropped her hand down to his waistband, feeling her way into his pocket.

"Careful now," he warned, when her fingers grasped at the front of his jeans.

"Sorry, it's difficult to see where I am." Humor filled her expression. "Success." She dangled the key from her hand then leaned over and slotted it into the lock. The door swung open and he carried her into the room.

"The bed looks inviting."

It did, it was at least six feet wide and covered in a burgundy quilt and white lace-edged pillows. An image of Amy sprawled on the bed, sated from their lovemaking, invaded his thoughts. He pushed it aside, for the time being. He wanted to make that image real, more than anything, but he had to make sure she was okay.

"Let's have the full tour first." He was still reluctant to let her out of his arms. He carried her over to the window. Her fingers parted the lace curtains and they both peeped out at their view. Below the window a tranquil garden was laid out in symmetrical quadrants lined with topiary.

"It's not really haunted, is it?" she asked, when he laid her gently on the bed and removed her sandals.

He smiled. "Oh yes, indeed it is."

He felt her start to tense. He put one finger against her lips when she went to ask again. "The story goes that there is a lonely love-lorn soul who haunts the stables, but he never wanders from there, so we are safely outside his radar."