Yearnings: A Paranormal Romance Box Set (88 page)

“
Oh, there’s no animal here. Please feel free to check if you need to.”

“
That is animal hair, ma’am.”

“
Um, I’m sure it must be if you say so,” Leigh said, wishing Grant would hurry up and go get dressed. She could actually feel the heat of him standing behind her. “But if there is no pet here, does it matter what kind of hair it is?”

The older one narrowed his dark eyes on her, but finally nodded. “Get dressed,” he ordered Grant.

To make matters worse, Jacob hovered nearby, gaping at Grant from different angles. Jacob was a ghost for criminy’s sake. A wolf-man, or werewolf, or whatever Grant was, should not be all that shocking to him.

Now that Grant was back to himself, Leigh hardly felt shocked. Surprised? Certainly. But not shocked. His becoming a wolf made a bit of sense, in fact. Switching to a wolf and back would definitely account for why he’d looked like hell at the Sacré Couer. Maybe that was why he was so suspicious and bristly. Leigh was getting bristly herself waiting for Grant to do as ordered and dress himself.

She glared at him over her shoulder. “You heard the man. Get dressed.”

He glared back. Leigh wasn’t the least bit intimidated by the dark look. She’d face an attack by his human form any day over a wild animal. Besides, as a wolf, he apparently liked her just fine. Enough to break a door down just to be near her.

He squinted. “I’ll need my pants,” he said, gesturing with a fist of sheet which drew her gaze straight to his bare belly.

Leigh snapped her head back around, her cheeks on fire. Grant retrieved his pants—in better shape than his shirt—from the floor, revealing long rippling lines of muscle, then strode past and shut the bedroom door none too softly. Jacob hovered. He wanted something. He wanted to go with Grant.
No
, she thought at him.
Too dangerous.

Jacob glowered, then vanished.

Oh, no. Was he pouting? Fine. Let him pout. So long as he didn’t go following the wolf-man around, Leigh didn’t care how long or hard he pouted. Ah, that wasn’t true. She hated seeing him upset. She hated even more that she might be the cause of it. Now that she wasn’t puking her insides out, another reading couldn’t be put off. The woman had only made one mention of it in the days Leigh spent sleeping, moaning, and hurling, but that mention was enough for Leigh to know how much Beatrice needed more hope.

“
I was seasick,” she said, noticing the officers eyeing her appearance. Now that Grant’s stubborn presence wasn’t there to distract them, her unwashed hair and sallow skin must be quite an eyesore. “I’ll be bathing as soon as he leaves.”

Now it was their turn to blush. Both even coughed. Six weeks with Georgette must have gotten to her more than she realized. Had she lost her decorum along with her heart? Or had she simply lost all care for it? That wasn’t true. She was just too worn out to care at the moment. May she never lay eyes on either officer again.

Nick and Grant were completely different subjects. Grant had just as much to be embarrassed over as she did. And Nick, well, after she found Beatrice’s son, maybe she’d never see Nick again, too.

Hearing the door open, Leigh spun on her heel to trade rooms with Grant. She stopped short. She’d been so dizzy, and he’d been so desperate to get in the door, she’d missed how debonair he’d looked in the white shirt and charcoal pants. A small tip at the collar gave him a disturbing air of danger, like hero from a gothic novel. Too many novels. That’s what got her here to start with. All those novels had made Henry’s promises seem possible.

No more. From now on, she’d be sensible and never, ever leave her heart vulnerable again.

Grant adjusted a cuff and strolled past her with cocky grace.

She watched him leave with the ship’s officers, realized her mouth was hanging open, and huffed straight back into that bedroom. She shut the door, waited to hear the other close then went and locked it. She needed a bath.

Leigh took in the small bathroom facility. A bar of perfumed vegetable soap guaranteed to lather even in salt water sat atop a shelf, and towels so fluffy she could sleep in them hung on the ornate brass towel bar.

Once clean, hair combed and braided, Leigh found her clothes laundered and neatly folded, something her own mother would have done, but a stranger certainly never had. Jesus, she missed her mom. She sat on the bed, fingering the edge of her folded clothes. Beatrice Grayson was either the kindest person she’d ever met, or had so much invested in Leigh’s abilities that she’d do anything to keep Leigh happy.

What if she let Beatrice down? The dream, the symbol, the red shoes. She had gotten a lot of distinct images, and definitely felt a strong connection. Plus, she had Jacob. Other than trying to find her dad, she’d never done something like this before. Her hand went to her chest, rubbing where her heart ached underneath. What if she didn’t connect enough to find Tristan?

A roll and butter next to the bed settled her hunger, and soon Leigh faced an empty room with nothing to do but think. And worry. Not about what her mother would say over Henry’s change of heart. Her mother wasn’t the type to say I told you so, even though she had suggested Leigh wait a bit longer. Looking back, Leigh realized her mom had doubts about Henry. The majority of his attentions had been from abroad by letter. He’d only courted her a few weeks before leaving for Paris to visit his best friend.

The short visit had become a lengthy stay. The snake. Leigh couldn’t wait to get home and burn every letter. The only one she’d brought with her, she’d thrown in his face at the door.

He hadn’t even invited her in to tell her. Horrid, rotten snake of a man. She blotted the memory out. She needed something to keep her busy. She would call for Jacob, but if he was upset with her, he’d stay away. Fine, let him go follow Grant around and get over his fascination. Then they could start helping Beatrice.

Even if all Beatrice’s care and generosity came from a need to keep Leigh happy, she loved the woman for it. She might go to the ends of the earth for her.

A fantastically boring stretch of two hours later, Beatrice came back.

“
Leigh, you’re feeling better,” Beatrice said. “Oh, thank heavens. Did you eat? I left a roll.”

Leigh leapt up from the armchair facing the fireplace, ready to hug the woman. Seeing a woman was with Beatrice, she settled for grasping Beatrice’s hands in hers. “Yes, thank you so much. For my clothes, too. You’re too kind.”

“
Nonsense. Oh, look at my manners. Eliza Rogers, this is Leigh Hamilton. I’ve known Eliza since childhood. Our families are old friends.”

“
Pleased to meet you,” Eliza said, but her smile didn’t quite reach her sapphire blue eyes.

From her upswept blonde hair to her flawless skin, the woman radiated sunshine. Leigh’s eyes almost hurt looking directly at her. “Thank you,” Leigh said, feeling gangly next to the petite woman.

“
Eliza is traveling from Paris. She and her husband were on holiday. We ran into each other on deck, and time got away from us while we caught up. My, it’s just been years, hasn’t it?”

“
Seven years, yes.”

“
Seven? Oh, yes, that’s right. Since that New Year’s Eve,” Beatrice said, a hint of ice in her tone. “Eliza used to know exactly how to spot trouble and then chase its tail.”

“
Trouble is what we’re calling it nowadays? Yes, well, married life has done much to settle my wild, younger ways.”

Beatrice nudged Eliza. “Congratulations on your marriage. I wish I could have been there.”

“
Oh, um, thank you. But we’ve long since passed being newlyweds, though. Seven years come June, in fact.”

“
Seven? How did I never hear about your marriage back then?”

“
Probably Samuel trying to keep you away from me, you a new mother and all.”

“
Husbands.” Bea shrugged. “Well, Grant will be so pleased to hear your happy news.”

“
He doesn’t know, either?” Eliza’s eyelashes lowered a moment. “Is he doing well?”

Leigh clasped her hands behind her back. Every word between these two felt loaded with hidden meaning, and her mind was leaping to conclusions. The way Eliza spoke Grant’s name, the the number of years since they’d last seen each other. Or, had that New Year’s Eve included Grant? Leigh bit her lip. “You just missed him,” Leigh said, considering tossing decorum aside and being nosy. How had the siblings missed their friend’s news of marriage? “He and Mr. Levitt both came by looking for you, Beatrice.”

“
Oh?” Beatrice’s smile tightened the tiniest bit.

“
Both wanted to speak with you.” Leigh decided to skip mentioning the authorities but immediately thought of the wolf hair. Why hadn’t she thought to clean all that fur up? She averted her eyes from the floor and stepped so that she blocked as much as she could. “Neither mentioned about what, exactly.”

“
Mmm.” Beatrice’s gaze darted to the floor, too, and up again. “Eliza, won’t you and your husband dine with us tonight? Leigh is finally feeling herself, and it will be the first time we can dine out of the room.”

“
I’d love to join you. You’ll enjoy the service, I assure you.”

“
Can I walk you back to the deck?”

“
Yes, of course. What was it you needed from your suite again, Beatrice? Motherhood has made me a bit forgetful.”

Beatrice’s mouth fell open. “Motherhood? How wonderful for you. How many? How old? Tell me everything.” Beatrice took Leigh’s forearm. “Join us, won’t you, Leigh?” Her grip tightened. “The sea air will be do wonders for you, I imagine.”

“
Two girls. Six and three.”

“
Oh, yes. I remember now. Grant must have told me. Or Samuel. Perhaps Samuel told me. My how time flies.”

Except Beatrice had just said that she didn’t know about Eliza’s marriage. Leigh’s curiosity soared.

“
How is Samuel?” Eliza asked. “Are he and Grant still thick as thieves, in and out of mischief?”

“
No,” Bea laughed stiffly. “Growing up and marrying seems to have made an honest man out Samuel, at least.”

Leigh saw no way to refuse joining them, seeing as Beatrice would not let go of her arm. Plus, she didn’t want to refuse. She wanted to listen in like a fly on the wall, and, gauging how Eliza looked right through her, she might as well be. There wasn’t much in the way of social strata growing up the daughter of a scholar in northern California. Brains were what mattered in her childhood, not money. Being on this ship, strolling the deck, Leigh became hyper aware of social class.

Most everyone walking the deck—seeing and being seen—completely ignored Leigh. What a difference from her weeks in Europe, where the suffrage movement was in full force and salons filled with both genders each debated philosophy and flirted through intellect. Even Georgette LePlante prided herself on her salon attendance. Her spiritualism discussions were good for business, too. More than half the attendees at any open discussion booked a private séance or reading.

While Leigh had been treated as an intellectual equal at any salon in Paris, here, only the occasional passerby glanced her way. They nodded to Beatrice, lingered on Eliza’s face, then glossed right over Leigh. She found it comical. So many of them would be tripping over themselves to know her better if the word
medium
got thrown about.

Georgette might have been detestable, but she had known how to control a crowd. Wealthy or not, she and her clients had treated Leigh as an equal. Most of the time.

“
Will your daughters join us this evening, Eliza?” Beatrice asked.

“
Oh, Bea, I long for the day. I don’t know what I would do without my Hilda. She is a wonder with the girls. You understand how it is with children. They can hardly sit still.”

Leigh wanted to stomp on Eliza’s toes over that one. Didn’t Eliza know about Tristan’s kidnapping? “You’re right, Bea,” Leigh said, when Beatrice tensed at Eliza’s words. “The sea air is wonderful.” In actuality, the breeze bit her cheeks, and the sun nipped at her eyes. “Very invigorating.”

Beatrice smiled at Leigh, gratitude in her eyes. “Yes, well, I thought it would certainly help.”

“
It is. I feel quite back to myself. Thank you.” Could Beatrice see Leigh was on her side? Maybe this Eliza woman was, too. Or maybe she was completely out of touch with Beatrice’s life. Beatrice claimed to not know about her marriage, but then knew about her children? Beatrice must be uncomfortable around Eliza, despite growing up in the same circles. Leigh didn’t doubt that they knew plenty about each other’s lives, and that included Tristan’s disappearance. Yet, Eliza brought up children casually. Almost like a barb. Leigh almost wished a nice, oozing genital pox on the woman.

“
I’m not certain I’ll be able to join you tonight, Bea,” Leigh said, disliking the idea of dinner with Eliza, particularly if she and Grant had a history—which didn’t matter in the least. “I don’t want to push myself after so many days throwing up worse than a drunken sailor.”

Eliza balked at the last bit. Leigh loved it.

“
I suppose you’re right, Leigh,” Bea said. “Your health comes first, of course. I’ll keep you company, then.”

“
But Bea, I was so looking forward to catching up,” Eliza pouted, eyeing Leigh a split second before facing forward as they passed a couple on deck. “I had hoped Mr. Levitt and Grant would join you as well. We’ve barely caught up.”