Something Spooky (2 page)

* * * *

Her Aunt Vera was a clairvoyant. At the moment she was in America, attending a convention of similarly blessed people. Ellie had always considered her aunt to be slightly dotty, had been skeptical of her powers. Yet ...?  There was no way she could have known about Patrick being at the house.

Grabbing the keys to the Rover, Ellie stopped only to check that Todd was soundly asleep before heading outside.

I’m probably making an absolute idiot of myself,
she mused, imagining Patrick’s sardonic smile as she charged in like a white knight on a charger to rescue him from whatever danger Aunt Vera imagined him to be in.

On the other hand ....? She smiled to herself. He would be under an obligation to her if she got him out of trouble, and might keep his temper under control.

‘Damn!’
she muttered when the lights picked up the shape of his truck.‘Now I’m for it.’ The bonnet was up and Patrick was leaning over the engine. He looked almost relaxed through the rain-lashed windscreen.
Too relaxed!
As she skidded to a halt she spotted the tree branch on the ground next to him. Alarm bells rang in her head. He’d been pole-axed by a widow-maker.

Patrick regained full consciousness just as Ellie was trying to persuade his bottom half to follow his head and shoulders into the Rover.

She wasn’t all that surprised. An ear to his mouth and chest had told her he was very much alive. He was suffering from a bump on the head, a rapidly darkening eye and a few scratches. She guessed his dented ego would give him the most trouble. So much for Aunt Vera’s urgency!

‘What happened?’ He winced as he came upright, glaring at her as if the accident was all her fault. ‘You’re covered in mud.’

‘Very observant.’  She suspected her favorite dress would never be the same again. ‘That’s what comes of heaving an uncooperative male over my shoulder and attempting to drag him into the car.’

‘You went to all that trouble for me?’ Sarcasm in his eyes, he lurched to his feet and towered over her. ‘You must be desperate for a man, green-eyes.’

‘And you must be desperate for a kick in the rear,’ she shot back. ‘Hasn’t anyone told you how to say thanks?’

‘Sure,’ he drawled. Before she realized the significance of his smile she was drawn into his arms and smothered with a savage mouth that punished her for her threat, then softly whispered against her lips. ‘My thanks, angel.’

Thunder grumbled in the distance as she mentally garroted him. His battered face, lit by flickers of lightning, seemed almost devilish. She shivered. How could anyone have married this man, let alone give him a lovely child like Todd?  She took a deep breath, put some distance between them and reminded him of his status.

‘I feel sorry for your wife.’

‘I haven’t got a wife.’

‘But Todd …?  Her voice suddenly faltered. Perhaps his wife had died.

He answered her unspoken question. ‘He’s my son.’

‘Where’s his mother?’ she blurted out.

‘Gone.’  Patrick’s hands gripped her shoulders, his eyes bored into hers as he said very deliberately. ‘She was one of your sort.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

The ball of his thumb slid roughly across her mouth, smearing the lipstick. Ellie wanted to gasp at the indignity of it. ‘I thought she was something special until the veneer peeled off.’

The rumble of thunder seemed louder. A nagging little voice in her subconscious told her it was too consistent.

Patrick must have thought so too. His eyes suddenly widened in awareness. Grabbing her by the waist he dragged into the Rover after him and gunned the motor into life. ‘Let’s get out of here!’

It seemed impossible the wall of water would miss them as the wheels spun in the mud. Patrick poured out a string of curses and she was jolted back in her seat as the Rover leaped forward.

Clinging to the seat she turned in time to see Patrick’s truck skew sideways. Then water churned over it. For a few seconds the headlights shone palely through the water, then they were extinguished.

A ghost gum followed after in a crackle of flailing branches. Water and gravel splattered angrily at the Rover as it shot up the bank, as if cheated of its prey, the flood was hurling insults after them.

Patrick’s face was made of stone as he pulled the Rover to a halt. The hands gripping the top of the wheel were white-knuckled, but his voice so conversational it seemed unreal under the circumstances.

‘That was close.’

She had an urge to giggle, despite knowing it would be bordering on hysteria. Who’d have thought a couple of simple spells could produce such startling results?

Ellie had found the spell book sandwiched between two paperbacks. It had been a fun book, nothing serious. It had offered spells from the removal of warts to ensuring the sex of an unborn child.

Knowing the district had been suffering from drought Ellie had used the spell for making rain. She’d have looked pretty silly if Patrick had appeared whilst she was waving a forked stick in the air and chanting at the top of her voice. The giggle became a reality.

He turned to glower at her.

At least the love potion hadn’t worked, she mused. If Patrick had fallen instantly in love with her he had a funny way of showing it. He looked as if he wanted to kill her.

 The skin around his eye was a puffy purple patch, his dark hair curled at the edges like burned toast where it was drying. Mud streaked his tanned face. It lodged in the crevices, emphasizing them, making him appear older. His cold glittering eyes were contemptuous. They froze her embryonic laugh in her throat when she remembered she was here with him alone, except for one small boy who was oblivious to what was going on around him. She drew in a deep, shuddering breath. Not only was her imagination working overtime, she was also imagining the worst. Patrick Morgan was an ordinary man trying to run a small business. He’d just lost everything he owned and had the right to be upset about it. 

‘I see nothing funny about the situation. I’ve just lost my truck and all my equipment.’

‘Wasn’t it insured?’

‘Of course it was insured.’

‘Then stop complaining, and I’d be grateful if you’d stop taking it out on me. It wasn’t my fault it rained.’

Okay, so she’d waved a stick and chanted. A shiver came from nowhere and she wrapped her arms tightly around her body. ‘Be thankful you still have your life.’

‘There’s that I suppose.’ Staring through the thrashing blades of the wipers he asked, ‘What made you come to the creek?’

‘Aunt Vera phoned and said you were in trouble.’ She was shivering in earnest now. ‘Hadn’t we better get back; I’m worried about leaving Todd by himself. If he wakes he’ll be scared.’

‘He usually sleeps right through, but yes, you’re right. Did you say Vera rang from America?’ Patrick gave her an assessing glance before engaging the gear lever.

‘That’s what I said.’ Ellie didn’t care whether he believed her or not, didn’t know whether she believed it herself as they sped towards the welcoming lights of the house.

‘That figures,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘I was thinking of Vera just before the branch brained me.’

‘What were you thinking?’

‘Nothing that would interest you.’ His voice was curt as they drew up in front of the house. Leaning over he thrust the door open. ‘Off you go, Eloise. Make yourself useful while I put the Rover away. Black coffee with two sugars, please.’

‘Perhaps you’d like me to run you a bath as well,’ she snarled, stung by what amounted to little more than an order.

‘Thanks.’ His eyes locked into hers when she clambered down from the Rover. ‘You look as though you need one yourself; would you care to join me?’

‘I’d rather bathe in acid.’ Slamming the door on his laugh she jumped backwards as the wheels spun in a patch of mud. Too late! Mud arced upwards and splattered her face and hair. Her metamorphosis from beauty to beast in the hands of this man had been expertly completed.

‘Mongrel!’
she yelled.

Something suspiciously like a howl reached her ears as the car sped towards the garage. She swore quietly to herself as she stomped into the house.

Much to Ellie’s relief Todd was still sound asleep. Tucking his arm under the blanket she leaned forward and kissed his tousled head.

‘Sleep well ... ’ she whispered, ‘... because you might find I’ve turned your father into a stone gargoyle when you wake up.’

‘What the devil was that in the bath?’

The roar of Patrick’s voice brought Ellie spinning around. The cutlery she’d been about to set on the table slid from her suddenly nerveless fingers and clattered to the floor, while her mouth fell open in awe. What has she done to him?

Matching the pink trackie pants, the shocking pink raised lumps emblazoned on his arms and chest accused her of her own stupidity.

‘Hives,’ she whispered. ‘You must have been allergic to it.’

‘Allergic to what?’ Two steps brought him across the kitchen. His eyes impaled her. ‘What did you put in my bath water?’

‘A herbal bubble bath,’ she said desperately. It wasn’t really a lie, the potion had been a mixture of herbs and washing up liquid. ‘I made it myself.’

* * * *

Twisting his arm up behind him Patrick tried to scratch a spot between his shoulder blades. ‘Out of what, exactly, nettles?’

‘Lavender, rosemary and fennel.’ Purity of heart, fidelity and valor, the book had said. Perhaps she should have omitted the fennel. She swallowed as her glance sized up his muscles. He didn’t look as if his strength needed boosting.

Her eyes widened when another lump appeared on the muscle she’d been assessing. This wasn’t the effect she’d aimed for when she’d put the love potion in his bath. He must be in an agony of itching. Guiltily she avoided his eyes.

‘There’s some calamine lotion in the cupboard, and I’ve got some antihistamine tablets in my bag.’

‘Then
get
them.’ Patrick leaned against the cool surface of the fridge and sighed with frustration. ‘This has been a hell of a day. You must carry the same jinx as–’ His eyes delivered a volley of lethal shots at her hovering form. ‘What are you waiting for, Eloise. I’m going to catch fire if you don’t get your act together.’ 

 ‘Sorry.’ 

 So much for the love potion, Ellie mused as she fetched the medications. It seemed to have had the opposite effect on Patrick Morgan. He was obviously incapable of loving a woman. But no ... he must have managed it once. Todd was proof of that.

He practically snatched the calamine and wad of cotton wool from her hands, dabbed at the lumps on his chest and arms then handed it back to her. ‘Put some on my back.’

The hives seemed to have joined forces on his back. Gazing at the welts she indicated the table. ‘It will be easier if you lie down. I’ll use my hands.

Patrick flinched as she poured a generous measure into the middle of his back, then sighed when her fingers smoothed it over his flesh. He had a nice body, Ellie reflected as she smoothed the lotion in long sweeping strokes over his firm skin. He tapered down from the shoulders in one lean wedge. His muscle tone rippled under her finger tips, and the cool lotion against the heat of his body raised goose-bumps wherever she touched.

The aroma of the witches brew he’d bathed in still clung to his skin. It rose in waves with the heat from his body. Lavender, rosemary ... and something else, something so sensual that Ellie leaned closer and took a deep breath in order to isolate it. Musk. She closed her eyes and let her hands glide over his body. It was a primitive male scent that touched a chord in her and indicated ... arousal?

Help!
She willed her hands away from where they’d been journeying. The last thing she needed was for Patrick to think she was after him. Tearing her eyes away from his perfectly proportioned rear she muttered primly. ‘I think that will do, Mister Morgan.’

‘A pity,’ he murmured softly. ‘I was enjoying it.’

There was nothing wrong with this man’s libido, Ellie noticed when he rose from the table. Averting her eyes she busied herself at the sink. ‘The tablets are on the dresser. They’ll probably make you sleepy so I’ll make up a bed on the couch after we’ve eaten.’

‘Thanks.’ Strolling to the stove he lifted the lid from a saucepan and inhaled a cloud of steam. ‘This is just about ready.’

Ellie’s stomach gave an unladylike growl as she hurriedly threw the cloth back on the table and gathered together the spilled cutlery. ‘It smells delicious, Mister Morgan. I could eat a horse.’ 

* * * *

‘So I hear.’ He flicked her a grin. ‘Cut out the Mister Morgan, my name’s Patrick.’

The casual tone of his voice changed to disgust. ‘Why didn’t you stir this hash? It’s all stuck to the bottom.’

‘I was drying my hair.’ Joining him at the stove she peered into the saucepan with dismay. ‘Is it ruined?’

‘It looks beautiful, lion lady.’ His growling voice sent shivers rioting down her spine. A compliment? Ellie waited for him to qualify it with an insult. He didn’t disappoint her. ‘It must cost a fortune to keep it looking that way.’

‘On the contrary.’ She moved out of the way when he bent to open the oven. ‘I just get it trimmed every few weeks.’ Her mouth watered as she spotted the crispy fried potatoes. ‘Those look great.’

‘I’m not just a pretty face.’ He wasn’t devoid of a sense of humor, however ironic. A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth when she laughed. ‘Stop getting in my way, woman. Go and finish off the table.’

This sort of bossy banter she could cope with. And when he set a loaded plate on the table in front of her she almost liked him. She’d never mastered cooking. This feast was a welcome change from the frozen dinners she usually bought for herself.

Patrick gave her a swift glance as he took the seat opposite her and picked up his fork. ‘Tell me about yourself.’

Ellie eyed her steaming plate. ‘Now? I haven’t had a meal like this for ages. All I want to do is eat.’

‘I just thought you might like some polite conversation with your meal.’

‘You can actually
be
polite?’ Why had she said that? He’d offered her an olive branch. Now his face had closed up like a clam with a belly ache.