Winter's Touch (Immortal Touch Series) (7 page)

“Where are we?” Her drowsy voice sounded much like the child’s voice had, years ago.

“We’re home.” Impatient of waiting, he picked her up and carried her to the front door. She listlessly wrapped her arms around his neck and nestled her head on his shoulder, for once having nothing to say. It appeared the short-term amnesia was still affecting her, which was a relief as he was far too tired to feel like dealing with an unruly guest. He brought her upstairs to the spare bedroom Lainie had prepared for her.

“Here we are,” he told her, dropping her unceremoniously on the bed. She looked so lost and out of place huddled on the white comforter in her rumpled clothes, the blanket still wrapped around her. He could almost pity her.

If he were able.

“I suggest you
return to sleep,” he ordered. “I’ll be in first thing tomorrow to talk to you. Right now, however, I’m extremely tired and we both need to rest. So I’ll bid you good night.”

She nodded without speaking. He left her there, clos
ed and locked the door behind him.

And headed for bed.

~*~*~

Eva
felt foul.

She’d awaken
ed with little memory of her arrival. She knew that she was supposedly somewhere in Oregon, and that the man who used to live next door to her had brought her here, but still wasn’t quite sure exactly how or why it had happened. Her mind was a muddled fog. Was it possible she’d been ill? It could be that a high fever was the cause of her disorientation. She had no reason to think he meant her any harm. Had her mother come with them? She couldn’t seem to remember.

Her hair was
lank and she felt filthy all over. The neatness of the room only served to make her feel even dirtier. Everything in here was so spotlessly clean and tidy. The huge bed was entirely fitted in white, from the sheets to the comforter to the pillow shams. Even the curtains bordering the bay window were white lace. The room would have resembled something found at a charming bed and breakfast, except for one minor detail. The bars on the windows. They seemed conspicuously out of place.

Sliding out of bed, she investigated one of three doors. It opened to a
large empty closet. On the other side of the room, a second door led to a bathroom whose vintage claw-footed tub beckoned her seductively. At this moment, she wanted nothing more than a hot bath to wash away the grimy feeling. Besides, she needed to make herself presentable at least. There would be time enough for explanations once she felt cleaner.

There were towels and soap and
every other necessity she might have required so there was no reason to remain grungy. After a quick bath and shampoo, she brushed her teeth and wrapped herself in a white terrycloth robe she found hanging on a hook on the back of the bathroom door. Then, feeling a hundred percent better, she headed across the hardwood floor to try the third door.

Opening it as quietly as possible, she stuck her head into the hallway and peered in both directions. Nothing but silence and emptiness greeted her, the only sound a
slow and monotonous
tick-tock
from the swinging pendulum of an antique grandfather clock at the end of the hall. If the time on it was correct, then it was nine-thirty.

Hesitantly she crept down the stairs, scrutinizing her surroundings. Nothing in particular seemed threatening. It was just a house, a spacious
mountain chalet that might have leapt from the pages of
Better Homes and Gardens
. A lovely place for sure, but just what was she doing here?

A noise captured her attention, and she followed the source into a kitchen where a plump
gray-haired woman of about seventy stood in front of a stove, dropping slices of ham into a hot skillet. Eva cleared her throat discreetly.

The woman turned to assess her. “Mornin
’, young lass! Glad to see ye’re up and about. Did ye have a nice sleep then?” Her motherly voice carried a distinct brogue, the only thing that stood out about the nondescript woman in the plain brown dress and apron.

“Yes, thank you.” The ham smelled delicious, and her stomach growled in response. When had she last eaten? It must have been some time ago. “Is
...do you know if my mother is here?”

“Y
er mother?” The woman put her hands on the ample hips and clucked, shaking her head. “Poor little mite, ye
are
confused, aren’t ye? That scoundrel Jules, he’s been up to his tricks again. Why don’t ye set yerself down and have a bit o’ breakfast? He ought to be up soon and then he can set things to rights.”

Eva relaxed in one of the kitchen chairs. “I can’t seem to remember exactly how I got here. Do you know?”

“I expect ye’ll find out soon enough. I’m Ms. Forbes, my dear. Ye can call me Lainie if ye like.”

“Eva Spencer.”

“Aye, I know who ye are, lass.” Lainie picked up a fork and began to turn the pieces of ham. “I hope ye’re nae one o’ those fussy vegetarians. I cannae abide a finicky eater.”

“No
...I’m not.” The accent intrigued her. “Are you Irish?”

“Scottish.
Born and raised in the Strathspey Highlands, left when I was still a girl. I lived in London for a number o’ years before migratin’ to America. My accent is a bit o’ a mishmash, I suppose. I’m a mixed mongrel, that I am.” She smiled and gestured towards Eva’s hair. “And are ye o’ Scottish descent yerself then?”

Eva returned the smile, any uneasiness she might have felt
melting away. “Irish. Well, technically my grandma is. I just inherited her red hair.”

“Lovely, it is.”

The woman seemed as friendly as could be. There was nothing to fear here, surely. There was a logical explanation for why she’d been brought here, and she’d wait patiently until it was revealed to her. No need to become paranoid. “Are you a relative of Mr. Winter?”

“
Och, nae. I just live here and help take care o’ things. Ne’er knew a man yet what could take care o’ himself without a woman’s help.” She opened the oven door and removed a pan of biscuits. “I was his nanny for twelve years, back in London. Until his parents were killed, that is.”

“What happened to them?”

“Their plane went down o’er the Indian Ocean, en route to Kenya. Such a sad thing. They were missionaries, y’know.”

“No, I didn’t know that.”

“Aye. The poor loun was shipped off to live wi’ his paternal grandfather after he was orphaned. Unscrupulous man, that one. I went to work for another family in London for a time after that. Still saw him whene’er I could. He was like my very own son by then.” She set two plates of food on the table and joined Eva. “My Jules, he turned out well in spite o’ it all. Did ye know he was pre-law? Before the accident, o’ course.”

“Accident?”

“Och, aye. Dreadful business. Only twenty-three, he was. And still is.”

Eva stared at the woman, bewildered. What
on earth did she mean by that?

“Eat up no
w, lass. Ye need yer strength.”

You need your strength.
A wave of déjà vu washed over her and sent a chill of apprehension down her spine. Everything looked commonplace here, but something told her things were far from normal. Appearances could be deceiving. Like the tranquil beauty of a stroll on a moonlit forest path...just before the panther drops down from the branch above your head.

~
*~*~

“Good morning, Lainie.” Julian skipped down the stairs jubilantly. Well-rested,
the arduous mission over and done with, he felt euphoric.

The woman looked up from her knitting. “Hmph.
Noon’s more like it. I suppose ye’ll be wantin’ somethin’ to eat?”

“No, I don’t believe I do.” He grinned
impishly.

Her eyes widened. “Already?”

“I thought it might be a good idea to try it before the hunger sets in. Less chance of accidentally killing her.” He always fasted the day of his ritual. It served to make the experience all the more satisfying.

“Makes sense. She’s still a bit
addled.”

“She’s been down then?”

“Aye, I heard her up and about earlier and unlocked the door so she could come down to eat. She’s in the library. What are ye goin’ to tell her?”

“
Why, the truth of course. What else?”

“Are
ye
daft?
She’ll be impossible to handle!”

“That’s
precisely what makes it so much fun.” He winked.

“
Och, Jules. Ye always were the very devil.” She shook her head and resumed knitting. “Am I wastin’ my time then, makin’ her a scarf?”

“
Can’t say. I hope not. If this goes well, things will be much easier for me.”

“That’s a fact.”

“If it
doesn’t
go well,” he said flippantly, “you can always wear the scarf yourself.”

She grunted. “Yellow
isn’t my color. Doesn’t go well wi’ gray hair.” Her hand reached up to touch the silver topknot. “Some people aren’t fortunate enough to remain young fore’er.”

“
Forever is a long time.” Stretching, he inhaled deeply, then released his breath. “Damned if I don’t feel optimistic today! I believe I’ll go find the girl. I feel like playing.”

Lainie chuckled. “Y
e’re like a cat wi’ a mouse. Mind ye don’t kill the mouse.”

“I don’t intend to. Just thought I’d have a little fun.”

“Very well then. But do me a favor and keep her upstairs. I’ve a bit of a headache and don’t fancy listenin’ to her screaming.”

~
*~*~

Eva
wandered about the library, perusing the shelves of books with fascination. She’d always loved to read, and some of the titles were captivating. Like this one, penned by the Marquis de Sade, no less. The title was
Justine
and underneath it,
The Misfortunes of Virtue
. She flipped absently through it, noting that the pages were beginning to yellow.

“You have unusual taste.”
Startled by the voice behind her, she dropped the book. He bent to pick it up, handing it back to her politely. “He was rather a misogynist, you know. I’m afraid you’d find his writing quite offensive.”

She slipped the book back onto the shelf, embarrassed
at having been caught browsing through something so nefarious. “I was just looking.”

“Still the curious little girl. Always desiring to know what you shouldn’t.” He
clasped his hands behind his back and strolled casually around the library. She followed, of course. There were questions that needed answers.

“Mr. Winter
...”

“Julian.”

“Whatever. Where is my mother? Does she know I’m here?”

“Your mother? Why, I would expect her to be frantically trying to locate you right now. Perhaps she’s at the police station.” He laughed.
“I don’t imagine they’ll take her seriously. Not after the message I sent her.”

Eva
felt a hard knot form in her stomach. “Are you telling me my mother has no idea where I am?”

“Not a clue.”

She gaped at him, thunderstruck. “But...why? Why am I here?”

“Why?
Why, why, why.
That must have been your favorite word as a child. How old are you now? Twenty-one?”

“
Twenty. You didn’t answer my question.”

“No, I didn’t, did I.” He plucked a book from
one of the shelves and studied it for a moment before sliding it back in its place. “Hemingway. So tedious.”

She had no idea what to say. How to
convince him to enlighten her. The man was absolutely infuriating. His complete lack of concern for her agitation was appalling.

He lowered his gaze to rest on her
informal garb. “Your attire is entirely unsuitable.”

“Well, whose fault is that? It’s all I could find.”

“I’ll have to send Lainie to pick up some things for you. Should you survive the night.”

What the hell did he say?
Survive the night?
“Just what do you mean by that?” she asked softly.

“First it’s
why
, then it’s
what
. The question you should be asking yourself is
when?
But I can see you won’t be satisfied until you know all. So look at me,
mon petite chaton
. Look at me and remember.”

She focused on his eyes, deep black pools that
she could so easily fall into and drown.
But I can swim
, she thought crazily, just before a hailstorm of abhorrent memories came tumbling down upon her head.

And she remembered. Every vile, revolting detail.

Would you like a big secret, or just a little one?

Sometimes I kill people
.