uncharted territory began to unfold before her.
Never
before had she even considered a man in her plans.
Bryant had
been the closest she’d come to settling down. He hadn’t succeeded. Now it was her
turn, chasing a man who infuriated her, confused and muddled her thinking. Not
the kind of husband material any sane woman, let alone a scientist would have
chosen. Hah. Maybe she was going crazy.
Whenever he
was around, though, her heart took control. Her sensible, methodical mind never
stood a chance.
Little more
than halfway down the road, the heavens opened up and bucketed down upon her.
“Fabulous.” No power at the manor meant no hot bath or hair dryer. Hell, there
wasn’t even indoor plumbing. So no point stressing.
She trudged
on further. Hopefully Rowan had the kitchen fire blazing. Her clothes would have
to be dried out and she needed a hot, strong cup of coffee. That would be
heaven.
After what
seemed like forever, she reached the open gates of the manor, adjusted the bags
in her hands and began the long walk up the drive. No one was around, and even
if Rowan had shown up to greet her with an umbrella, she was soaked to the
skin.
Chapter Seven
The rain had begun to ease
as Ellen paused in front of the manor. As on the first day of her arrival, a
strange crawling sensation crept along her skin, accompanied by the notion
someone watched her.
Transferring
the bags to one hand, she rubbed the other along her freezing arm and picked up
her pace. She needed to get inside where it was safe.
How
strange, to think she was in danger outside. Maybe the cold had finally seeped
into her brain.
Come on.
There was nothing there. Must be imagining things. A reflection from a deep puddle
caught her eye, made her stop, look down into the swelling pool.
There were
faces in there. Distorted images of people in pain, and as each droplet of rain
rippled one face away, another took its place.
Every hair
along the back of her neck stood on end. Disbelief burned and twisted in her stomach,
the air in her lungs became as thick as clay. The once brown muddy puddle
turned blood red, and the crimson stain leached out across the gray pebbles and
ran beneath her feet.
Oh God.
* *
* *
A
thundering crack echoed across the night sky, waking Ellen with a start. Beads
of perspiration clung to her body. She nearly panted, so shallow and fast was
her breathing. Where was she? The soft glow of lamplight illuminated the space
around her. She was back in her room, in her bed. But how?
Hell. Her
head hurt just to think.
She’d
returned early from the fair, walked toward the house. It had been raining. Had
she slipped and fallen? Must have. Turning over on her side, she snuggled
around the sheet. The fire crackled away in the hearth. Rowan must have found
her and brought her in.
Rowan.
Her arms
were bare. She lifted the covers. Below she wore only her bra and underwear.
How bloody embarrassing!
“You were
soaked through.” Rowan stood in the doorway.
“Oh?” What
a pathetic response. Lord, she hadn’t been so embarrassed since she’d
accidently locked braces with Steven Trent in the third grade--her first steady
boyfriend. It had been her first real kiss, but there they were, steel against
steel. The school nurse had to take them to the hospital to have them
separated. And when free at last, Steven glared at her and stormed away.
She never
forgot the look on his face.
Rowan
strode into the room. She pulled up the covers and frowned. Bit late for
modesty now. As he approached the bed, she swallowed and clutched the sheet
tighter, shrank back into the feather pillows as far as she could.
* *
* *
Rowan
placed his hand on the bedpost and watched Ellen, peeling away with his gaze
the thin sheet hiding the source of his distraction. Long, shapely legs. Rounded
hips and slender waist.
His breath
caught and loins tightened.
Hell. He
was not supposed to have helped her. Already he’d tangled matters by kissing
her.
But
Never
before had she even considered a man in her plans.
Bryant had
been the closest she’d come to settling down. He hadn’t succeeded. Now it was her
turn, chasing a man who infuriated her, confused and muddled her thinking. Not
the kind of husband material any sane woman, let alone a scientist would have
chosen. Hah. Maybe she was going crazy.
Whenever he
was around, though, her heart took control. Her sensible, methodical mind never
stood a chance.
Little more
than halfway down the road, the heavens opened up and bucketed down upon her.
“Fabulous.” No power at the manor meant no hot bath or hair dryer. Hell, there
wasn’t even indoor plumbing. So no point stressing.
She trudged
on further. Hopefully Rowan had the kitchen fire blazing. Her clothes would have
to be dried out and she needed a hot, strong cup of coffee. That would be
heaven.
After what
seemed like forever, she reached the open gates of the manor, adjusted the bags
in her hands and began the long walk up the drive. No one was around, and even
if Rowan had shown up to greet her with an umbrella, she was soaked to the
skin.
Chapter Seven
The rain had begun to ease
as Ellen paused in front of the manor. As on the first day of her arrival, a
strange crawling sensation crept along her skin, accompanied by the notion
someone watched her.
Transferring
the bags to one hand, she rubbed the other along her freezing arm and picked up
her pace. She needed to get inside where it was safe.
How
strange, to think she was in danger outside. Maybe the cold had finally seeped
into her brain.
Come on.
There was nothing there. Must be imagining things. A reflection from a deep puddle
caught her eye, made her stop, look down into the swelling pool.
There were
faces in there. Distorted images of people in pain, and as each droplet of rain
rippled one face away, another took its place.
Every hair
along the back of her neck stood on end. Disbelief burned and twisted in her stomach,
the air in her lungs became as thick as clay. The once brown muddy puddle
turned blood red, and the crimson stain leached out across the gray pebbles and
ran beneath her feet.
Oh God.
* *
* *
A
thundering crack echoed across the night sky, waking Ellen with a start. Beads
of perspiration clung to her body. She nearly panted, so shallow and fast was
her breathing. Where was she? The soft glow of lamplight illuminated the space
around her. She was back in her room, in her bed. But how?
Hell. Her
head hurt just to think.
She’d
returned early from the fair, walked toward the house. It had been raining. Had
she slipped and fallen? Must have. Turning over on her side, she snuggled
around the sheet. The fire crackled away in the hearth. Rowan must have found
her and brought her in.
Rowan.
Her arms
were bare. She lifted the covers. Below she wore only her bra and underwear.
How bloody embarrassing!
“You were
soaked through.” Rowan stood in the doorway.
“Oh?” What
a pathetic response. Lord, she hadn’t been so embarrassed since she’d
accidently locked braces with Steven Trent in the third grade--her first steady
boyfriend. It had been her first real kiss, but there they were, steel against
steel. The school nurse had to take them to the hospital to have them
separated. And when free at last, Steven glared at her and stormed away.
She never
forgot the look on his face.
Rowan
strode into the room. She pulled up the covers and frowned. Bit late for
modesty now. As he approached the bed, she swallowed and clutched the sheet
tighter, shrank back into the feather pillows as far as she could.
* *
* *
Rowan
placed his hand on the bedpost and watched Ellen, peeling away with his gaze
the thin sheet hiding the source of his distraction. Long, shapely legs. Rounded
hips and slender waist.
His breath
caught and loins tightened.
Hell. He
was not supposed to have helped her. Already he’d tangled matters by kissing
her.
But
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