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Authors: Carlene Rae Dater
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for you here.”
When she entered his room after she’d washed her face and freshened up as best she could, she wasn’t surprised to find it much larger than her own. The furnishings were more masculine and all in shades of mauve, gold, and black. A basket of fresh fruit sat on top of the nightstand. Clearly, she was perceived as hired help.
Brian stood outside the open French doors looking out over the same view as she had from her room. The delicious scent of roses permeated the room.
“All set?” he asked, turning when he obviously sensed her presence. He started to take her arm but stopped short. She couldn’t wait until he was able to control his gift. She liked having him touch her—all over.
They found the library with no trouble. All they had to do was follow the sound of voices. Inside the room, at least twenty people stood around in groups, holding glasses of sherry, and chatting.
All conversation stopped when they entered. Robin glanced around and wanted to die. The men all wore suits, the women dresses, and here she stood in her travel-weary nurse’s uniform.
“Ah, there you are. Come in, come in and meet everyone.” Phelps walked over to Brian and steered him to the first group of people. Robin tagged along, feeling a lot like an unwanted puppy.
Names and faces went by in a blur, though she did take notice that no one tried to shake hands with Brian—they must have been warned. Wells stood in the corner by a tray filled with glasses and bottles. He poured amber liquid into two glasses, came over, and handed one to each of them. Robin grabbed hers and gulped down half the contents to calm her nerves.
Conversation swirled around them. Everyone in the room wanted to talk to Brian, and did. She stood by his shoulder, largely ignored. Relief flowed through her when Wells announced dinner. She’d managed to finish her sherry, so she set the empty glass on a table and followed Brian and the crowd toward the dining room.
A long, rosewood table with matching chairs took up most of the space in the room. The cream-colored lace cloth had been set with fine bone china and sterling silver.
She shoved her shaking hands in the pockets of her skirt, wondering how she’d figure out which fork to use, since there were more than two at each place setting. Red flocked paper covered all four walls, and the sparkling chandelier looked like something one would find in a castle. Since everyone else took their seats first, she and Brain seated themselves in the only two empty chairs. Phelps sat at the head of the table.
Servers brought out platters of food, and a woman wearing a grey dress with a white apron poured wine. What food she managed to put into her increasingly nervous stomach was delicious. After the second glass of wine, she stopped drinking because she started feeling a little woozy.
Brian conversed with a woman seated on the other side of him and a man across the table, but turned to check on her frequently. She was happy to see he only drank water. Wine on top of pain pills would not be a good combination. Before she knew it, a dish of chocolate mousse had been placed in front of her. Her stomach felt full, but she didn’t remember eating much. She dipped her spoon into the brown swirl and then…nothing.
Chapter Fourteen
Brian tried to keep his eye on Robin because she appeared ill at ease, but he found himself fascinated by Rosalie Stein, the woman seated next to him. She was at the institute studying psychometrics, while Max Fielding across the table seemed to be a world authority on poltergeist activity.
By the time desert arrived, he noticed Robin’s eyes were glazed, and she appeared ready to slide off her chair and onto the floor. He didn’t think she’d had that much to drink, but he couldn’t be sure.
When Phelps suggested coffee in the library, Brian excused the two of them with the excuse of travel fatigue.
“Of course, of course.”
When she entered his room after she’d washed her face and freshened up as best she could, she wasn’t surprised to find it much larger than her own. The furnishings were more masculine and all in shades of mauve, gold, and black. A basket of fresh fruit sat on top of the nightstand. Clearly, she was perceived as hired help.
Brian stood outside the open French doors looking out over the same view as she had from her room. The delicious scent of roses permeated the room.
“All set?” he asked, turning when he obviously sensed her presence. He started to take her arm but stopped short. She couldn’t wait until he was able to control his gift. She liked having him touch her—all over.
They found the library with no trouble. All they had to do was follow the sound of voices. Inside the room, at least twenty people stood around in groups, holding glasses of sherry, and chatting.
All conversation stopped when they entered. Robin glanced around and wanted to die. The men all wore suits, the women dresses, and here she stood in her travel-weary nurse’s uniform.
“Ah, there you are. Come in, come in and meet everyone.” Phelps walked over to Brian and steered him to the first group of people. Robin tagged along, feeling a lot like an unwanted puppy.
Names and faces went by in a blur, though she did take notice that no one tried to shake hands with Brian—they must have been warned. Wells stood in the corner by a tray filled with glasses and bottles. He poured amber liquid into two glasses, came over, and handed one to each of them. Robin grabbed hers and gulped down half the contents to calm her nerves.
Conversation swirled around them. Everyone in the room wanted to talk to Brian, and did. She stood by his shoulder, largely ignored. Relief flowed through her when Wells announced dinner. She’d managed to finish her sherry, so she set the empty glass on a table and followed Brian and the crowd toward the dining room.
A long, rosewood table with matching chairs took up most of the space in the room. The cream-colored lace cloth had been set with fine bone china and sterling silver.
She shoved her shaking hands in the pockets of her skirt, wondering how she’d figure out which fork to use, since there were more than two at each place setting. Red flocked paper covered all four walls, and the sparkling chandelier looked like something one would find in a castle. Since everyone else took their seats first, she and Brain seated themselves in the only two empty chairs. Phelps sat at the head of the table.
Servers brought out platters of food, and a woman wearing a grey dress with a white apron poured wine. What food she managed to put into her increasingly nervous stomach was delicious. After the second glass of wine, she stopped drinking because she started feeling a little woozy.
Brian conversed with a woman seated on the other side of him and a man across the table, but turned to check on her frequently. She was happy to see he only drank water. Wine on top of pain pills would not be a good combination. Before she knew it, a dish of chocolate mousse had been placed in front of her. Her stomach felt full, but she didn’t remember eating much. She dipped her spoon into the brown swirl and then…nothing.
Chapter Fourteen
Brian tried to keep his eye on Robin because she appeared ill at ease, but he found himself fascinated by Rosalie Stein, the woman seated next to him. She was at the institute studying psychometrics, while Max Fielding across the table seemed to be a world authority on poltergeist activity.
By the time desert arrived, he noticed Robin’s eyes were glazed, and she appeared ready to slide off her chair and onto the floor. He didn’t think she’d had that much to drink, but he couldn’t be sure.
When Phelps suggested coffee in the library, Brian excused the two of them with the excuse of travel fatigue.
“Of course, of course.”
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