Yearnings: A Paranormal Romance Box Set (89 page)

“
Well, I’ll be sure to tell Grant, Eliza.” Beatrice hooked her arm in Leigh’s. “I can’t fathom a single reason why he wouldn’t want to join you tonight.”

Beatrice’s comment smacked a bit of comeuppance. Oh, now she really wanted to know about the New Year’s Eve they’d mentioned earlier. And she’s said it so sweetly to Eliza, too. Leigh didn’t need to defend Beatrice. Clearly, she could defend herself.

“
Oh, dear,” Leigh said, unable to resist her own little jab after Eliza had outright ignored her. “I hope I won’t interfere with your dinner plans.”

In an instant, Eliza acknowledged Leigh wasn’t invisible after all. She stopped square in the middle of pedestrian traffic and got right in Leigh’s face. Heads turned. Beatrice kept walking a few steps, then paused. One little comment, and Eliza looked ready to spit fire. Oh, but the history she and Grant must have! Leigh would have to ask about that.

“
Interfere?” Eliza backed Leigh up a step. “I can’t see how you would interfere with anything. Can you?”

“
You can’t? Interesting. I can.” Not really. Grant might not doubt her abilities anymore, but they were far from friendly at this point, and Leigh had no reason to hope for more. Not that she wanted more. She mostly didn’t want Eliza trouncing Beatrice’s feelings again.

Beatrice pulled on her arm. “I’m sure Leigh simply meant to defend me, Eliza. She couldn’t possibly want to interfere. Could you, Leigh?” Beatrice asked meaningfully, glancing about, pulling her along.

Eliza remained rooted all of three seconds, glaring Leigh down, before twittering a laugh that charmed the air. The concern rising around them evaporated. People turned away and continued on their way. Leigh full expected the woman to stick to Beatrice like honey until Grant showed up. Thankfully, they survived a quick good-bye at Beatrice’s door, and Eliza left.

Closing the door to Bea’s suite, Leigh sagged against it. With that woman gone, now she weighed how best to broach the subject of Tristan. The last week seemed like lost time. But bringing up a new friend’s worst pain was not so easy. With a deep breath, she joined Bea at the fireplace. The faraway look in her eyes, the frown knitting her brow...Leigh chickened out.

“
Eliza and you have a bit of history. Yes?”

Bea’s attention came back to the room. She smiled. “Ah, yes. Eliza Flynn, er Rogers, now, isn’t it? She had her sights set on my brother by age eight. Poor Grant. We used to call her his shadow.”

Leigh disliked the woman, but, in a way, her heart went out to her. How long had she mooned over Henry before he finally paid her any attention? Certainly not years, but that pain still sat in her chest. “Grant never returned her feelings?”

Staring at the unlit logs, Bea shook her head. “I’m not quite sure.” She plucked at her skirt. “I was a new mother the last time I saw Eliza. I shouldn’t have brought New Year’s Eve up. I only remembered the beginning of the night at first. Oh, she had the most divine gown on. Sapphire blue silk. I swear, that dress matched her eyes exactly. I don’t think a man in the room could help staring.”

Leigh imagined herself in a blue dress. No, hers would have to be green if she wanted her eyes to match. Standing on a sweeping staircase, a roomful of guests looking up at her. She imagined what feeling that beautiful might be like. The more the pretend faces turned her way though, the less she liked the fantasy and she ditched it and the envy, too. She’d much rather be off to the side than the center of any sort of attention.

She’d learned young how fast a crowd could gather around over her saying the wrong thing. The wrong thing that turned out to be a secret or a truth she was too young to understand. Cindy Reddick’s grandpa urging Leigh to hug his Pumpkin Pie one more time, or Luke Miller’s dad’s favorite hunting dog running free, but sitting watch at night.

She had to discuss Tristan with Beatrice. In the pit of her stomach, she felt it. But being around Eliza had changed Bea’s demeanor. Maybe Leigh should light a fire. Jacob was still gone. Yet waiting felt like the wrong decision. It was as if the week had been stolen. They’d be in New York soon and off this ship, but she still didn’t know Grant’s position on her joining them. Where were all the questions? Grant had plenty. Beatrice had protected her from them on the train ride, but he didn’t seem like the kind of man who would forget what she’d written in that note. Plus, where was the discussion on what to do next? Beatrice hadn’t even brought up the hair on the floor, and Leigh was certain she saw it.

“
Nick seems...nice,” Leigh said, hoping to engage Bea back to the present.

“
He is. Grant despises him.”

Well, that was rather honest of her. Leigh hedged for more. “Yeah. I got that impression. Why?”

“
Nick hasn’t found Tristan yet. Grant feels Nick has failed us.”

“
He’s an investigator?”

“
Yes. And a friend. After three years traipsing over the globe at my side, I should hope I can call the man my friend.”

Leigh hesitated, wishing they had tea or something else to occupy the silent space of the room. “And Samuel is your husband? Where has he been during all this?”

Beatrice sighed. “While I know how important honesty must for you to work properly...Eliza...Samuel...it’s complicated.” The wear of the day, or of the years, showed in the droop of her shoulders and expression. “Samuel handled Tristan’s disappearance badly. He became detached.”

Leigh wanted to take Beatrice’s hands in hers and vow to her that everything would be all right. But she couldn’t. Not truthfully. Not until she knew more. More from Beatrice and more from Jacob. She wished Jacob were here now. Where was he? Following Grant around waiting for the wolf to appear again. His reaction to the wolf had been unlike any Leigh had ever seen from him, and he’d brought countless souls through to speak to her. A dog’s and a horse’s included.

She had to wonder: if Jacob was with Grant, would Grant sense it? Jacob sitting around staring at Grant as he went about his day. Grant looking over his shoulder, perplexed at the feeling he wasn’t alone. Or would Jacob linger and observe, with Grant none the wiser?

What did a day in Grant Connel’s life look like?

Surly and demanding, energy spent on frustrations? Or somber, contemplative, his mind trying to work out the mystery of Tristan’s kidnapping? How did he come to be a wolf in the first place?

It was Beatrice’s turn to draw her back to the present, leaning over and touching Leigh’s knee. “Was it awful? Seeing Grant like that?”

“
Scary, yes, but not awful. It explains a bit.” His knuckles. The scars.

“
How he looked the day you met him,” Beatrice said, as if knowing where Leigh’s mind was leading.

“
Um, yes, that would explain things. Had he...?”

Beatrice shook her head. “He tries to leave me out of the details. Protective instincts. You’re taking it better than I did.”

Leigh shrugged. How else could she take Grant becoming a wolf and human again but in stride? “Maybe it hasn’t sunk in yet.”

Beatrice nodded knowingly then looked a bit shy. “I know you need to regain your energy, but I am eager to try another reading, or séance, this time with Grant and Nick included.” She searched Leigh’s face. “When can we read again?”

Not without Jacob. She couldn’t tell Beatrice that, though. Since the beginning, since age three, she and Jacob had a pact. Only her mother knew about Jacob. He’d been absent for hours now and that had happened only one other time. Six years ago. The day her father left.

She had never asked specifically, because she didn’t have to. She knew deep down that Jacob had gone looking for her dad. Her dad’s note had said he was going to find work and come back home. Having Jacob go too had been beyond awful. Jacob came back. Her father never had. But he was alive. Somewhere out there he was alive, and she held tight to the idea that someday, her dad would come home.

One day.

She waited for Leigh to answer, but Beatrice didn’t push. She tipped her head, attempted a smile, and broke Leigh’s heart with one, pained blink. Leigh realized how difficult it was for Beatrice to ask for help. For her help.

Maybe if she thought hard for Jacob, he would come back. She tried. It didn’t work. What if his interest in Grant as a wolf severed their connection? Leigh had never read on her own. She’d tried plenty. He was her anchor to the other side, and to this one, too.

“
Tonight,” Leigh said at last. “After dinner. We can try again.”

Beatrice leaned back in her chair with visible relief. “Thank you,” she said.

As if on cue, Jacob swam into Leigh’s peripheral view. Leigh had half a mind to scold him, and half a mind to air-kiss his cheeks. Jacob had other ideas. He rushed to her side, then in front of her face. He wavered in and out of transparency and tried to form words. His mouth moved, but nothing came out.

What was wrong? Why wasn’t he sending energy? Leigh closed her eyes a moment, trying to hear him, trying to speak back. Nothing. She opened her eyes and watched his mouth move. She didn’t want to alarm Beatrice. No one knew about Jacob. All her life, she had trained herself to only interact with him in the readings. Nowhere else. No matter what.

His eyes pleaded. She glanced at Beatrice. She was watching her intently. She looked at Jacob and listened with every ounce of energy she had.

Run....

~~~

Chapter Nine

Run...
Jacob pushed the word at her again. He sent her heartbeat running, not just pushing the word at her, but mouthing it, too.

Leigh raced to the door. Jacob blocked it, vehemently shaking his head.

Not flee.

He couldn’t speak which meant he had little energy. Realizing as much stirred more fear and panic to life inside her. He looked agitated. He wore his frustration like a cloak. It shrouded his image, dimming his visibility as he paced around her, throwing his hands in the air.

Run
.

She hated when they had obstructive moments like these. Jacob sending her reeling, Leigh making him fume. Leigh closed her eyes against the word and reminded herself, here, she was safe. These new people in her life cared about her.

At least one did. Beatrice. Who, at that moment, as Leigh became acutely aware, was gawking at her.

Oh no. Leigh had no idea how to explain herself. Leastwise without revealing who and what Jacob was. Since age three, she’d been bound to the vow of never revealing what he was, especially of what he was to her. One terrified dart for the door couldn’t be what made her break it.

Grant stood outside Nick’s room ready to gnash his teeth. Pounding down doors was the apparent theme of his day. But keeping his temper under control meant keeping the wolf at bay. He knocked again, focusing on the sounds of the ship, the hiss of the sea in the distance, and instinctively trying to place that feeling. He couldn’t shake the vague sense he was being followed.

He glanced around for what had to be the millionth time since being officially escorted back to his own room. Changing into fresh clothes after wiping down his entire body had helped with his disposition. He’d even gotten to a point that he felt he could wait a few hours, even a few more days, before getting answers from Leigh.

She wasn’t going anywhere, after all. She was back in fair health. He would have time before their voyage ended. He’d ask about her note to Henry. He’d get more details on Georgette LePlante and why she’d shown up that morning. He would ask more specifically about how Leigh accessed the information she’d gotten so far, to see if she’d left anything out.

He’d managed a short nap, which did wonders for his physical aches and pains. But getting the message from Beatrice asking he join her after dinner for a séance had undone his calm. His nerves were worn thin. Grant could think of a dozen reasons to forgo another reading. Leigh’s health seemed a glaring enough excuse. Nick was his only hope in talking Beatrice out of another séance. But the man wasn’t answering. Which meant he was either already dining, or already with Beatrice.

Grant turned on his heel and headed to the top deck. The aroma of beef and onions in the air made his mouth water. Damn, he was hungry. He took the stairs two at a time.

“
Grant Connel? As I live and breathe, it is you.”

That voice was branded into his memory—a lifetime of memories. Eliza Jessica Flynn. The ship seemed to pitch. He turned toward the bottom of the stairwell he’d just scaled and saw her staring up at him. “Eliza,” he said, more to himself than to her.

She beamed, picked up her skirt, and walked up to him. “I’d know those shoulders anywhere. You’re wearing your hair shorter now, but I knew it was you by the color, too.” She extended a gloved hand. “Beatrice asked me to join you for dinner. I was starting to think she’d forgotten.”

He took her hand, but stopped mid-bend in greeting. “When did you see Bea?”

“
So she didn’t tell you, after all. I’m afraid I put my foot in it deep earlier. Her maid took it upon herself to get in my face. Oh, it was quite a scene.”

Her maid? Leigh? “What did you say to upset her?”

She winced. “It was entirely innocent. I’d never intentionally hurt Beatrice, you know that. She’s my oldest friend. Sure, we’ve lost touch over the years, but not out of any insult or argument.”