Книга - House of Midnight Fantasies

House of Midnight Fantasies
KRISTI GOLD


Interior designer Selene Winston had arrived to remodel his mansion, not tangle in the sheets with her brutally handsome new boss.And yet the reclusive Adrien Morell haunted her dreams; his fantasies played through her mind. Soon she found herself succumbing to Adrien's magnetic power. But he was not about to walk out of the shadows with her. If she wanted more than a midnight lover, Selene would have to tame the beast beyond the bedroom door.









House of Midnight Fantasies

Kristi Gold








To my good friend and fellow author

Karen Rose Smith. A heartfelt thanks for your gentle

guidance and unwavering support.




Contents


Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Epilogue

About the Author

Coming Next Month




One


Maison de Minuit. The House of Midnight.

The name alone seemed ominous, but the forbidding Louisiana plantation symbolized Selene Albright Winston’s first serious step toward freedom.

Gathering her courage, Selene left her sedan, apprehension shadowing every step while she walked the flagstone path that led to the lengthy porch. Not even the whisper of a wind ruffled the leaves and only the occasional sound of a cicada disturbed the eerie silence. Ancient gnarled-finger oaks, dripping with Spanish moss, covered the lawns like sinister sentries warding off intruders. The tall grass held a cast of brown and a spattering of milkweeds, and no flowers adorned the overgrown beds lined with withering hedges.

She stopped a few feet from the porch to study the house that seemed as if it had been abandoned, too. In many ways it had, at least superficially. The Greek Revival mansion’s pale yellow facade showed definite signs of aging, and so did the shutters, trim and the six massive columns supporting the structure—all oddly painted as black as the entry sign. She hoped the interior had fared better than the exterior, otherwise not even the most curious person would dare step foot in this place. In fact, turning around and heading for safety was Selene’s initial instinct. Not this time. Safety also came with a price.

When she ascended the first wooden stair leading to the entry, it groaned as if it might buckle. Yet the abrupt assault on her psyche proved to be much more disturbing.

Eyes. Ice blue eyes. Intense eyes.

Selene closed her mind as well as her own eyes against the image until it disappeared. But when she scaled the second step, the vision came back, stealing her breath and her confidence. She refused to let this happen. Refused to invite this into her world, not when she had tried so hard for years to keep it reined in.

She drew in a deep breath and raised the invisible mental shield she’d developed for self-protection, relieved to discover it didn’t fail her when she took the third and final step onto the porch.

After only a slight hesitation, she rapped on the peeling black door then smoothed a hand down her tailored sleeveless red dress. Though the fabric was lightweight, she felt as if she were wearing a winter parka. She’d pulled her hair back into a band low at her nape, yet that, too, provided little relief from the relentless June heat. Of course, a solid case of nerves contributed to her discomfort, and so did the fact that no one answered her summons.

She knocked one more time, both relieved and anxious when she heard the sound of approaching footsteps. She had no idea who might be on the other side of the door. No idea if she would find friend or foe—or maybe even the owner of the disturbing eyes.

The door finally opened to a woman with keen dark eyes who appeared to be in her sixties, her black-and-silver hair styled in a short, severe cut. She wore a loose-fitting pale green shift and a guarded expression, but she didn’t appear to be at all threatening. “May I help you?” she asked in a soft voice that contrasted with her sharp features.

“Are you Ms. Lanoux?” Selene asked.

“Yes, and you are?”

At least Selene was in the right place, even if the woman didn’t seem to have a clue as to why she was there. “Selene Winston. I’m here about the restoration.”

The woman’s hand fluttered to her hair. “I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.”

When they’d spoken last Friday, Selene could have sworn they’d agreed she would interview for the job on Monday. Maybe she should return to the local inn where she’d been residing for the past ten days since her spontaneous escape from Georgia. Maybe she should consider this misunderstanding as a Do Not Enter sign. “If it’s not a good time, I can come back tomorrow.”

“I wouldn’t hear of it,” she said as she stepped aside and gestured Selene forward. “Welcome to Maison de Minuit…It’s Mrs. Winston, isn’t it?”

“Winston’s my married name, but I’m divorced.” Selene internally flinched over the bitterness that resonated in her tone. “Actually, I’d rather you call me Selene.”

The woman thankfully maintained a pleasant demeanor. “And you may call me Ella. Now let’s get you out of the heat.”

When Selene stepped inside the wide foyer, she immediately noticed two things—the house wasn’t much cooler than the porch outside, and the light was all but filtered out by heavy shutters covering the windows. A gloomy atmosphere encompassed the area, along with the scent of aged wood and musty air.

She followed Ella down the vestibule where they paused at a small parlor that proved to be as dark as the entrance, any natural light blocked by thick blue drapes. The Federal-style antiques set about the room were most likely original furnishings, and worth a fortune, Selene decided. Nothing she hadn’t seen—or owned—in her former life. A life she had gladly left behind. Still, she’d always had an affinity for all things historical, and the pieces were definitely worth investigating.

“This is only one of the common areas,” Ella said. “And like the rest of the house, it needs refurbishing.” She fanned her face in a rapid succession of waves. “Inside and out. You would have to obtain estimates on a new cooling system and most likely a new roof, which means you’ll have to find a suitable contractor.”

“Wait a minute,” Selene said as soon as the woman’s words registered. “I had no idea the job would be quite this extensive.”

“My dear, you can hire anyone you’d like,” Ella said. “Unless you have a problem supervising workers.”

In reality, no, Selene didn’t. She’d managed a household staff for years. Besides, she had nowhere else to be. No place to go aside from her former home, and that wasn’t an option. “I can handle it, as long as I have a substantial budget to follow.”

“Money is no object.”

Obviously Ella Lanoux had sufficient wealth even though she wasn’t at all like the well-heeled matrons Selene had known most of her life, including her own mother. Although Selene wasn’t exactly comfortable with the magnitude of the restoration, she had to remember why she’d come here—to seek employment. To be her own person, make her own money. To start over.

Ella brushed her damp bangs from her forehead, then motioned Selene forward. “Follow me and we’ll continue the tour.” She strode down the foyer, stopped at a set of double doors and faced Selene again. “This is by far the most impressive part of the house.”

With dramatic flair, Ella threw open the doors to reveal a massive circular room covered in what appeared to be original wood-plank floors. In the center of that room, a freestanding, wide red-carpeted staircase spiraled to the second floor. Selene’s gaze tracked to the ceiling that showcased gold-winged cherubs flitting about a large expanse of cloud-bedecked blue sky, a chandelier dripping with crystals serving as the focal point. She’d seen this type of room before, but only in photographs that couldn’t compare to witnessing the real thing with her own eyes. “This is absolutely breathtaking.”

Ella smiled proudly. “It had that effect on me the first time I saw it.” She pointed across the way. “The kitchen and dining room are through there. We can see those later. I’ll show you the second floor now.”

As she followed Ella up the stairway, her hand firmly gripping the white iron railing, Selene felt as if she were climbing toward heaven. A tranquil piece of paradise among the darkness.

When they reached the landing, Ella stopped and nodded to her left. “That corridor leads to the front of the house where you’ll find two rooms. One was formerly a nursery, the other’s been converted into a private office.”

Heavy emphasis on private, Selene noted. She motioned to her right. “And down that way?”

“The rest of the second-floor bedrooms, including where you’ll be staying if we come to an agreement.”

“I would be expected to live on-site?”

“Room and board would be included while you’re here.”

Selene supposed it would make things more convenient. She wouldn’t have to drive the ten miles or so into town, or find a suitable place to live. If she decided to accept the job. A decision not to be taken lightly, Selene thought as she trailed behind Ella, who made an immediate right into a narrow paneled hallway illuminated by the occasional dimly lit lamp mounted to the wall.

They’d only walked a few feet when Selene’s attention landed straight ahead on a bronze life-size statue looming at the end of the corridor. A demonic creature complete with horns, pointy teeth and claws with a terrified, scantily clad woman in its grasp. The menacing figure definitely contrasted with the angels keeping watch over the rotunda downstairs. A classic illustration of good versus evil. Heaven opposed to hell.

Selene suddenly found herself in the grip of another vision. Unlike her first images on the entry steps, this came to her as if she were watching somewhere on the sidelines, as it always had in the past. The image of a hand sliding down her bare arm. A very large, very male hand that continued down her back, formed to her waist, drifted to her bottom, before she blinked and forced the image away. She had no idea where the vision had originated since there seemed to be no one around. And she found that more than a little troublesome.

She hadn’t realized she’d come to a complete stop until Ella turned and favored her with another smile. “It’s rather grotesque, isn’t it? I call him Giles, after the former owner. The crazy man loved that thing, but then he was always known for being eccentric.”

Eccentric wouldn’t be the term Selene used to describe the former owner. Scary would be more like it. She couldn’t imagine wanting the “thing” around every morning, or at bedtime. “I’m surprised he didn’t take it with him.” She was sorry he hadn’t.

Ella laughed. “Unfortunately, it was too big to fit in his coffin.”

Selene internally cringed. Was that the source of her vision—the mental musings of a ghost? That had never happened to her before. Normally she channeled the thoughts of living, breathing humans, at her own peril at certain points in her life. “I’m sorry to hear he passed away.”

“Don’t be,” Ella said. “He was almost ninety and quite frankly, I thought he was too cantankerous to die. In fact, he had a mistress forty years his junior. She’s the one who did him in.”

“She killed him?” Selene couldn’t disguise her distress.

Ella shook her head and laughed again. “Not intentionally. Let’s just say the Morrell men have virility down to a fine art. Unfortunately, Giles didn’t know his limitations.”

“Well, at least he left this world a happy man.” Now for the question foremost on Selene’s mind. “Did he pass away in this house?”

“No. He died in France.” Selene’s frame relaxed from relief until Ella added, “But unfortunately, this place has a reputation for tragedy.”

Great. Just what Selene wanted to hear—the mansion could be home to restless spirits intent on haunting her brain. But only if she let that happen, which she wouldn’t, if she could prevent it.

They continued on for a few steps until Ella stopped at a closed door. “Your quarters would be in here.” She pointed toward the end of the hallway where the demon held court. “That guest room over there is closed for the time being. The current owner keeps it locked and prefers it not be disturbed.”

Selene gaped for a few moments. “I thought you were the owner.”

Ella frowned. “Oh, dear, I’m sorry if I gave you that impression. Adrien Morrell, Giles’s grandson, inherited the plantation. I’m his assistant.” Her frown melted into a cynical smile. “And his maid and cook. I also advise him from time to time, whether he asks for my advice or not.”

Selene was beginning to suspect she had a lot to learn, and worried some of it might not be pleasant at all. “Does Mr. Morrell live here?” she asked.

“That’s his room.” Ella indicated a closed door nearby. “It’s the master suite and adjacent to your room, but I promise he won’t bother you.”

“Where is your room?” Selene asked.

“Off the kitchen. I spend much of my time there. And this would be your room.” Ella opened the door to the prospective living quarters and waved Selene inside.

As it was with the rest of the house, the bedroom was adorned with more antiques, including a huge cherrywood Victorian double bed covered in a white lace spread. Several colorful braided rugs covered the hardwood floors that had lost their sheen. Straight ahead, the white curtains were pulled back to reveal double French doors opening to a veranda that apparently faced the back of the heavily wooded property. Several fans were set about the room, including two overhead, but they did little to alleviate the heat.

“I’m afraid it doesn’t have a private bath,” Ella said. “You would have to use the one across the hall that serves this wing.”

Now that was just wonderful, sharing a bathroom with a total stranger. And a man, no less. Of course, she’d shared a bath with a virtual stranger before—her husband. And toward the end of the marriage, Richard had slept in another bedroom altogether. Lived in his own private world. A world that hadn’t included his wife. “Then I assume that means Mr. Morrell uses it, too.”

“Actually, his suite has its own bath. The younger Mr. Morrell had it installed before he moved in. Unfortunately, that’s the only improvement he managed.”

At least he wouldn’t be in her way. “I could live with those arrangements.”

Ella wrung her hands several times before saying, “Then the job is yours if you want it.”

Selene decided this was almost too easy. “Wouldn’t you like to see my portfolio first? Or at the very least, let me prepare some kind of estimate for my services?”

“That’s not necessary. I promise, you’ll be paid much more than you would normally receive for this type of work. I’ll have all the details outlined in a simple contract that Mr. Morrell drew up himself.”

“What about consulting with him first?”

“He’s left the hiring up to me. He trusts my judgment, and my judgment tells me you’ll do a fine job.”

Could she really afford to decide something so important on the spot? A better question—could she afford not to accept since she was armed with an interior design degree that she’d never really utilized and a very limited résumé? If she turned down the offer, she might have to search long and hard for another opportunity, especially one that would allow her the freedom to take a project with so much potential and see it to fruition. “Pending the contract is in order, I’ll take the job.”

Ella looked very pleased. “Wonderful. When can you move in?”

“Right now if I need to. I’m staying at the local inn. I will have to go back there and get my things.” Very few things. Most of what Selene had owned she’d left behind, except for the harsh memories of a doomed marriage.

“Today would be wonderful.” Ella started toward the door. “I’ll show you the contract first, and while you’re in town, I’ll see if I can arrange a time for you to meet him.”

Him, as in Mr. Morrell, Selene decided. “I’m looking forward to it.” If for no other reason aside from curiosity.

“One thing you need to know about Adrien,” Ella said once they reentered the hallway. “He’s a hard case. I’ve known him for many years, and the best way to handle him is to stand your ground.”

Considering Ella’s cautions, Selene wondered if she’d already made a colossal error in judgment. “I’ll remember that.”

On the drive back to the inn, Selene entertained more than a few second thoughts even though she’d found the agreement satisfactory and the pay much more than generous. She should have questioned the woman more thoroughly, particularly about the mysterious owner. Yet the opportunity had practically fallen into her lap at a time when she’d been uncertain over her future. Sheer serendipity.

Besides, the man was probably a middle-aged codger, as peculiar as his grandfather, set in his ways and, she suspected, cranky. She could handle cranky. She could handle anything as long as she could be her own person, make her own decisions, at least when it came to her private life.

Yes, she would deal with Adrien Morrell, through whatever means necessary, be it killing him with kindness or hanging tough. Better still, she would ignore him altogether.

* * *

“Who the hell is she, Ella?”

Adrien immediately noted the surprise in his longtime companion’s near black eyes, followed by a flicker of guilt before she said, “You’ve seen her?”

Yes, he’d seen her. He’d watched her from the window as she’d left her car. Saw her brief hesitation. Witnessed her wariness. He’d noticed the way her golden blond hair, bound at her neck, spiraled down her back in soft curls. Noticed her slender throat, her flawless pale skin, the length of her legs and the curve of her hips. From the shadows near the stairs, he’d also observed her walking the corridor, and imagined more than only watching her. A reaction he didn’t welcome but hadn’t been able to stop.

Adrien leaned forward and rolled a pen back and forth over the desk’s surface. “What does she want?”

“A job.”

He tossed the pen aside. “I assume you told her she was in the wrong place.”

“No, I did not.” Ella stepped forward from the door and displayed her usual toughness. “Her name is Selene Winston, and I’ve hired her to oversee the restoration.”

A sharp prick of seething anger threatened Adrien’s tenuous self-control. “I didn’t give you permission to hire anyone.”

Ella planted her palms on the desk and leaned into them. “Someone needs to go forward with the plans before this house falls down around our heads.”

Damn her interference. “That’s my decision, not yours.”

“That’s the problem, shâ. You’re making no decisions. That’s why we need someone to get this place into shape so you can put it on the market and leave.”

Right now he didn’t care to leave. The house had become his haven, his own private hell. “How did you find her?”

“I put an ad in the St. Edwards newspaper and she answered it. She’s the only one who answered it. And you’re the one who told me you wanted someone who would give the house personal attention. Otherwise, I could have hired a firm from Baton Rouge months ago.”

Adrien didn’t like the way Ella’s gaze suddenly faltered. “Where is she from?”

“Georgia. She’s a divorcée. From the looks of her car and clothes, I suspect she has money, or did at one time. But for some reason she’s decided to settle in St. Edwards. As long as she’s a hard worker, I don’t really care how she got here.”

Adrien cared. He had no use for a woman who’d probably never had her diamond-bedecked hands dirty in her whole damn life. “How much experience does she have?”

She shrugged. “Why don’t you ask her since you’re the all-knowing, all-seeing entrepreneur?”

If Ella were anyone else, he’d fire her. “I really don’t give a damn because I have no intention of letting her stay.”

“You don’t give a damn about anything, Adrien.” She straightened and sighed. “It’s been well over a year now. You have to go on with your life.”

A life filled with remorse. A life that had become static, by his own hand. And he liked it that way. “Tell her she’s not needed here.” Or wanted.

Ella scowled. “Oh, she’s needed here, all right. And she’s staying, or I’ll go with her.”

More empty threats, Adrien decided. Nothing he hadn’t witnessed before from his surrogate mother. Ella wasn’t going anywhere because she had no desire to leave him alone. In order to keep the peace, at least externally if not internally, he’d humor her for now. “Fine. Do what you will. Just make sure she stays out of my way.”

“Maybe you should tell her yourself. She’s agreed to live here until the house is finished. I put her in the room next to yours.” With that, Ella spun around without giving him a glance and headed out the door.

Adrien streaked both hands down his face and leaned back in his chair. He didn’t need any of this. Didn’t need this Winston woman anywhere near him. Even if she was beautiful. Even if he’d been numb for months now and when he’d seen her, he’d begun to come alive, at least in a carnal sense.

He’d be damned if he’d bed some Georgia debutante, and he had every intention of persuading her to leave. He wasn’t exactly sure how he would manage it, but he would. He definitely would.

* * *

Selene had been granted a delay in the official meeting, at least for the time being. According to Ella, the plantation’s owner hadn’t requested an audience, nor had he joined them for dinner. She hadn’t run into him on her way to retire for the night, but earlier she had heard him passing through the corridor outside the bedroom, followed by a closing door. The sound of creaking floorboards, as if he’d been pacing, continued for a time before ceasing a few moments ago. Now if only she could get some sleep.

But sleep seemed as elusive as her employer. The fans only served to stir the warm air, and the open windows provided little relief. She’d tossed and turned so much that her thin white gown was practically wrapped around her neck. And although she’d taken a bath before turning in, at this rate she would probably need another. She couldn’t imagine how people survived before the advent of air-conditioning. But then they couldn’t miss what they’d never had.

What Selene really needed at the moment was some fresh air to provide some temporary comfort. On that thought, she pushed out of the bed, opened the French doors and stepped barefoot onto the veranda, hoping she didn’t encounter any splinters jutting up from the wooden decking as she moved to the edge of the balcony. With her hands braced on the black railing, she turned her gaze to the three-quarter moon hanging overhead and the host of stars scattered across the midnight sky.

The temperature had mercifully dropped to a more tolerable level, the gentle wind she’d been seeking flowing over her damp body and ruffling her unruly hair. The bayou’s summer sounds surrounded her—chirping locusts and bellowing bullfrogs. She inclined her head and listened for the rush of the Mississippi that knit through the terrain not far away. She only heard the rustle of brush from below. No doubt, the swamps were full of nasty creatures. Probably a few bobcats and alligators with large, treacherous teeth waiting to snap up unsuspecting wildlife. Definitely snakes slithering about, coiled and ready to strike. Maybe even a wolf foraging the forest, searching for prey.

A brief image flashed in her mind—another mental photo shoot of someone watching her—followed by a low, rugged male voice saying, “Too hot to sleep?”




Two


Selene spun to her right to find a dark figure seated in a wicker settee at the end of the veranda a few feet away. She released a ragged breath, one hand resting on her chest above the gown’s scooped neck, the other gripping the rail tighter for support. “You startled me.”

“Obviously.” His tone dripped with sarcasm.

Wonderful. A midnight encounter with a jerk. She was so looking forward to this. “I take it you’re Mr. Morrell.”

“Correct.”

That relieved Selene somewhat, even if his attitude needed adjusting. At least he was a real man, not some ghostly apparition.

What now? She could bid him good night and return to her room. Or she could get the official introduction out of the way then go back to bed. With that in mind, she shored up her courage and moved closer, the moonlight providing enough illumination for her to make out a few details. Details such as he couldn’t be much beyond his mid-thirties and not the curmudgeon she’d envisioned.

His slightly wavy dark hair fell below his chin and his lips formed a line as hard and unyielding as his jaw that was covered in evening whiskers. Then her gaze came to rest on his eyes. She suspected the same eyes that had flashed in her mind upon her arrival. Unearthly blue, predatory eyes.

She could also see he wasn’t wearing a shirt, while she was wearing a cotton gown that provided little cover. Not necessarily the proper attire for her first encounter with her boss, but she might as well get it over with.

Selene finally gathered enough wherewithal to step forward and offer her hand along with a forced smile. “I’m your new employee, Selene Winston.”

“I know who you are.” His gaze tracked down her body slowly in a blatant size-up before he centered it on her extended hand. After a slight hesitation, he took her palm into his grasp and curled his fingers around hers. Selene reeled from the bolt of sensation, the abject pain emanating from him. A deep, wounding pain.

She quickly dropped her hand and took a step back, as if she’d suffered an electrical shock. In reality, she had. She’d lived with the “gift” for as long as she could remember, keeping it concealed from the world. Well-bred Southern girls didn’t read minds; they read the society page. But in all her years, never before had she been empathetic. She’d been able to discern others’ thoughts through imagery and occasionally words, but she’d never been able to channel feelings. Until him.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she murmured once she again had control over her voice.

He didn’t return the greeting, yet he did continue to stare at her, making her want to twitch where she stood. Making her want to run from him even though she felt oddly drawn to him. Drawn to his aura. His pain.

She struggled for something casual to say despite the uncomfortable situation. “I’d appreciate your input on how you want the restorations handled. Not right now, of course, since I need something to write with. Maybe tomorrow. Or the next day, if you prefer.” Heaven help her, she was rambling like an idiot.

He failed to respond for a few moments until he finally said, “Only one thing you need to know. I expect perfection.”

Selene knew all about perfection. She’d lived the perfect life with the perfect family. Had gone to perfect schools and had married the perfect man. The perfect lying bastard, she corrected. “I’ll do my best to please you.”

He laced his hands atop his bare belly. “That remains to be seen. I’m not easy to please.”

That certainly didn’t surprise Selene considering Ella’s assessment that Adrien Morrell was a “hard case.” She would have to concur. And after her reaction to him when they’d touched, she sensed that perhaps he had his reasons. “Do you have any particular preferences?”

He inclined his head and surveyed her face from forehead to chin, settling his gaze on her mouth. “In reference to what?”

Another image filtered into her mind, regardless of her attempts to stop it. She only caught a glimpse of his thoughts, but enough to realize those thoughts involved questionable considerations involving naked bodies. Her naked body.

Selene couldn’t fathom why her well-honed ability to block this kind of thing failed her now. Couldn’t understand why he would be fantasizing about her, a woman he’d just met. More disturbing, she couldn’t comprehend why that excited her.

“I’m referring to how you would like the restoration handled,” she said once the images dissolved.

He shifted slightly in the chair. “I prefer not to be involved at all. Unless you have no idea what you’re doing.”

That made her bristle, her defenses on high alert. “Any reason why you believe I wouldn’t know what I’m doing?”

“You’ve given me no evidence to believe that you do.”

How was she going to answer? Easy. By telling only a partial truth. “I have an interior-design degree. I’ve also supervised staffs and redecorated my own house in the past. I’ve even refinished furniture with my own two hands.”

“Was that before or after your tennis game with the ladies down at the club?”

She resented his condescending tone. Resented even more that he was right about her former life. “Actually, I believe that was the day I had tea with the Daughters of the Confederacy,” she said in her sweetest drawl. “Right before I went to my lessons on how to be genteel and polite even when confronted by ill-mannered jackasses. Those lessons seem to be escaping me now.”

He looked as if he might actually smile, but it didn’t quite form. “Are you calling me a jackass, Ms. Winston?”

If the moniker fits. She laid a dramatic hand above her breast. “Why, no, Mr. Morrell. That would be totally improper.”

Again he raked his gaze down her body and back up again. Slowly. “Nothing wrong with impropriety now and then, Selene.”

And no doubt he had that impropriety market cornered. He’d been brazen enough to call her by her given name. Bold enough to fantasize about her. And he hadn’t even bothered to stand…until that moment.

He came to his feet slowly and, as she’d guessed, he was an inch or two over six feet. His chest was lean, well defined and dusted with a layer of dark hair, his flat abdomen sporting a sequence of ridges above the waistband of his black slacks. His proximity alone jumbled her mind, hindered her breathing, as did his scent. A subtle clean scent that seemed perfectly in sync with the summer night, as if he were an integral part of the atmosphere. Mystifying, intoxicating, forbidden.

If he’d meant to intimidate her, it was working. But Selene wasn’t going to let that happen. Not anymore. Not by any man. Especially not a man like him, even if he was absolutely awe-inspiring—in a threatening kind of way.

But instead of backing up, she turned her attention to a pair of dark vines circling his solid bicep, a grouping of letters centered in the middle that spelled out the word Imperium. “Interesting tattoo. My Latin’s a little rusty. What does it mean?”

She lifted her eyes to find his gaze boring into her. “Absolute power.”

Both his declaration and his overwhelming presence paralyzed her, even though she knew what he was about to do. The way he studied her mouth again gave her the first indication. His musings that broke through her mental haze served as confirmation. If she didn’t leave now, he was going to kiss her. And she might actually let him.

Forcing herself back into reality, Selene folded her arms tightly around herself, as if that might offer some protection, and stepped back to regain her resolve. “I don’t believe power is absolute, Mr. Morrell.”

With the last of her shredding strength, Selene turned away from him and headed back to the safety of the bedroom. But she’d only managed a few steps before he said, “Some power is absolute, Selene. And you know it.”

She didn’t dare face him again, or respond at all. Doing so would only prove to him that he did possess a certain power—over her.

She returned to the room, closing the doors behind her. Closing him out. But she couldn’t drive him from her thoughts, nor could she rid herself of the persistent heat that had little to do with the elements.

She climbed into bed and tried to clear her mind. Tried to sleep. Tried to think about anything but him. But as she drifted off, Adrien Morrell was the last thing she thought about. The last thing she saw.

* * *

The minute Selene stepped from the bathroom into the hallway the following morning, she knew he had been nearby. She’d immediately caught the scent of his cologne, but more importantly, she sensed his presence. An intangible feeling that totally consumed her. She wondered if he’d been standing at the door or if he’d simply just passed through the corridor. Whatever the case might be, he wasn’t anywhere in sight now. That should please her, but in a way, she was disappointed—only because she wanted to get a look at him in the daylight. A good, long look.

Glancing to her right, she intended to check to see if his bedroom door was open. Instead, she made contact with the devilish statue, its vicious features causing her to physically jump. Demon Giles would definitely have to go somewhere else. Anywhere else. If she thought she could actually haul him up and carry him out, she would deposit him in the nearby swamp.

Selene returned to her bedroom, slipped out of her robe and into a pair of white linen slacks and a coral knit sleeveless top. At least her summer apparel provided a respite from the heat that had already begun to creep into the house.

Selene headed down the spiral staircase at a fast clip, relieved to be out of the dark corridor and into the light, surrounded by cherubs. As she made her way across the rotunda toward the kitchen, she paused at a painting hanging on the wall of a young woman with bright green eyes and raven-black hair swept up from her slender, pale neck, her hands folded primly in her lap. Considering the lady’s clothing—a soft white, long lace dress with a full skirt—Selene would guess that she’d probably resided at the plantation many years before. But when she studied the inscription on the brass plate anchored to the bottom of the frame, a series of chills raced up her spine as well as a sense of foreboding.

Grace—She sleeps with the angels.

Maybe this was a key to one of the tragedies Ella had spoken about the previous day. Maybe this beautiful young woman had died before her youth was spent, and perhaps even in this house. As disconcerting as that thought was, Selene wanted to know more about the plantation’s past, if for no other reason than to satisfy her own curiosity. Who better to ask than the owner’s right-hand woman?

As she entered the kitchen, Selene found Ella at the ancient white stove scrambling eggs and humming a cheerful song.

“Good morning,” Selene said as she pulled back a chair and took a seat at the weathered pine table.

Ella regarded her over one shoulder while she continued to cook. “Good morning to you, too. Did you sleep well?”

“Fairly well. It’s going to take me a while to get used to the surroundings.” To get used to the idea that Adrien Morrell resided right next door. She’d intermittently heard the sounds of his footsteps throughout the night, as if he’d been restless. But then so had she. She still was.

Ella turned from the stove, balancing a full plate in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. She crossed the small space and slid the fare in front of Selene. “Enjoy.”

Selene resisted wrinkling her nose. She didn’t care for eggs or bacon. Toast she could do, and coffee. Definitely coffee. “It looks good, but I’m never very hungry in the morning. I also want to get an early start today.”

Ella returned to the table with her own cup of coffee and took the chair across from Selene. “If you stay around for a while, you might be able to meet Mr. Morrell when he comes down for breakfast.”

“I’ve already met him.” Selene waited for Ella’s apparent surprise to subside before she added, “Last night, on the veranda outside our rooms.”

Ella slid a fingertip around the rim of her own cup. “How did that go?”

It had gone places Selene had never expected. “Not too badly. He wanted to know about my work experience, and I got the impression he doesn’t want to be bothered with the details of the restoration.”

Ella sighed. “He wants to be left alone.”

Selene had sensed that about him last night, even in light of his fantasies about her. “What exactly does he do for a living?”

“He’s an entrepreneur. He turned his inheritance into a small fortune through various ventures, mainly buying faltering businesses, restoring them and selling them for a large profit. He’s very good at what he does, or he was until…” Ella’s gaze drifted away with her words.

“Until what?” Selene asked.

“Until he decided to take a break from it all.”

Again, Selene wanted to know more about Adrien, to ask more questions. But she sensed Ella wasn’t up to answering, which called for a subject change. “If you can point me to a phone, I’ll contact a few prospective contractors and set up appointments.”

Ella took a quick sip of her coffee. “You’ll have to find someone from Baton Rouge since you won’t find anyone locally, at least not anyone who’s willing to come out here. The townspeople are a superstitious lot. They believe the place is cursed.”

Ella had unknowingly provided Selene with a good opening. “That portrait near the staircase. Is that woman somehow involved in the tragedies?”

“I’m not really sure,” Ella said. “I assume she probably is, but I don’t know any details about her.”

Selene had always embraced the past, and she truly believed the woman named Grace had an interesting one at that.

She took another quick drink of coffee, pushed back from the table and stood. “I’m going to go into town and pay a personal visit to a few of the business owners. Maybe someone can suggest a local contractor who isn’t superstitious.”

“Good luck.” Ella nodded toward Selene’s untouched food. “You should eat something first, put on a few pounds so you don’t make me look quite so portly.”

“You’re fine just the way you are. And I’m in a hurry to get this restoration underway.” In a hurry to get away because she sensed Adrien’s imminent arrival as surely as if she’d heard his approaching footsteps, which she hadn’t. Any minute now, he could walk into the kitchen and throw her off balance. Better to head into town before that happened. Before she had to look at him again, this time in the daylight where all her fascination and preoccupation with her boss would be bared like a flashing billboard. Because she was fascinated by him, completely intrigued. He had his share of secrets, that much she knew, and most she would probably never know.

Yet she also knew those secrets had brought on his pain, and she had always been a sucker for lost souls. She’d manned a couple of hotlines on a volunteer basis, had championed several causes. She’d also learned that some lost people didn’t care to be found. She suspected that Adrien Morrell had no desire to be saved from his solitude. For that reason alone, she vowed to pay no heed to him, as long as he stayed out of her head.

* * *

Alone in his office, Adrien stood at the window and watched Selene Winston drive away. Curiosity sent him immediately to her room, to see if she had left for good. In his experience, everyone eventually left. Not so in this case, at least not yet.

The white gown she’d been wearing on the veranda last night was draped over the bed’s footboard. The sheer fabric had revealed only a few details, but enough details to set him on edge and keep him there. Striding across the room, he passed his palm over the gown that was as soft as her skin. He knew that much, even though he hadn’t touched her. Yet. But he would.

Last night, he’d warred with what was wise and what he wanted. Many considered him predatory, territorial in both business and in pleasure. Until recently, he’d lived for the thrill of the chase, the rewards of capture. Selene Winston had resurrected that desire. Though he’d made a solid effort to ignore his baser urges, he was still a man. A man on a mission.

He planned to draw her into his world with a slow and carefully crafted seduction, guiding her into the darkness he’d created. She might be reluctant at first, but eventually she would come without reservation. Willingly. Openly.

She would provide a respite from his remorse, a means to temporarily forget what he hadn’t done. More importantly, what he had done…to Chloe.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Selene drove into St. Edwards and pulled her sedan in front of Abby’s Antiques, a place she had visited several times. The shop was situated along a row of small businesses that lined the single downtown street, an ancient red brick church serving as the town’s cornerstone. After only a moment’s hesitation, she left the car and entered the glass door, the subtle chime announcing her arrival.

The proprietor, Abby Reynolds, a fortysomething tiny woman with bobbed auburn hair and kind hazel eyes, looked up from behind the counter positioned at the back of the store and greeted Selene with a smile. “Hello, Ms. Winston. I thought you’d left town.”

“As it turns out, I’m going to be here awhile.” Selene skirted the helter-skelter antiques as she traveled down the narrow aisle, basking in the blessedly cool air flowing over her. If only she could bottle some to take back to the plantation.

When Selene reached the counter, Abby pushed her black glasses up onto her head and set aside the book she’d been reading. “You’ve decided to stay?”

“Yes, thanks to you. Remember that ad you showed me? As it turns out, it’s a plantation west of town, and I’ve been hired to oversee a complete restoration.”

“Maison de Minuit.” Selene immediately noticed the wariness in Abby’s tone and the stiffness of her small frame. “That should be challenging.”

“Yes it will be, and that’s why I’m here.” Selene set her purse on the counter and folded her hands next to it. “Do you happen to know a local contractor who’d be willing to take it on?”

The woman shook her head. “You won’t find anyone here who’ll go out there.”

Exactly what Ella had told Selene earlier. “What is it about the place that has everyone avoiding it like the plague?”

“Well, there’s the matter of the lovers who supposedly died there, and the voodoo woman who lived there after that. And the somewhat insane Giles Morrell who fortunately wasn’t there very long. Take your pick.”

Selene wondered if Grace happened to be one of those lovers. “Do you know any details? Names, that sort of thing? I’d like to know a little bit about the plantation’s history.”

Abby shrugged. “I’ve only been in town a couple of years. When I have heard people speak about the place, it’s been brief, as if they’re afraid to talk about it. And there’s also the woman who mysteriously disappeared about a year ago.”

“What woman?” Selene couldn’t mask her surprise or uneasiness.

“Supposedly Adrien Morrell was holed up with her for over a year,” Abby said. “Ralph Allen works for a delivery service and used to make runs out there every week or so to deliver packages. He says he saw her looking out an upstairs window a couple of times.”

Surely Adrien didn’t have an unidentified woman locked up in the mysterious bedroom. A totally ludicrous thought, Selene decided. Still…“But as far as anyone knows, she left?”

“The deliveries stopped suddenly, and no one’s seen her since. Except Ralph swears he passed a coroner’s car coming from that direction one morning.”

Selene swallowed hard. “She died?”

Abby showed her discomfort by shifting her weight from one hip to the other. “There isn’t any real proof of that. No death notice or anything. But Mr. Morrell has enough money to pay for silence, so I guess anything’s possible. If he wanted her dead, he could arrange for it, even if he didn’t do it himself.”

Selene wasn’t sure she wanted to explore those possibilities, though she didn’t really view Adrien as a murderer. But what did she really know about him? Not much, other than he was a physically attractive, powerful man. “Maybe she just left on her own accord.”

“Maybe she was a ghost.” Abby attempted a reassuring smile. “You know how it is with gossip, Selene. People are like coon hounds with a rawhide bone. They chew on it for a while, then bury it for a time, but they always bring it out, along with more dirt.”

Selene wanted to believe that that’s all it was—idle gossip from the depths of idle minds. Rumor or not, she was still uneasy. “Do you know anyone who knows about the plantation’s previous owners? Maybe a historian of some kind?”

“Unfortunately, the town doesn’t have a library, otherwise I’d point you in that direction. You could try the courthouse, but I don’t know how far back their records go. They don’t even have a computerized system yet. And they lost quite a bit during a flood in the 1920s.”

That sounded like a surefire dead end to Selene. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to try that.”

“Good luck,” Abby said. “In the meantime, I can ask around and let you know if I find someone who knows the history.”

“That would be wonderful.” Selene rummaged through her purse, withdrew a pen and paper, jotted down her number, then handed it to Abby. “This is my cell phone. You can call me anytime.”

Abby reached beneath the counter, took out a notepad and began to write. “I’m going to give you the address of a friend of mine, Linda Adams. She’s in Baton Rouge and she specializes in antique restoration.” She tore off the page and slid it in front of Selene. “She can help you with fabric selection and anything you need done with the furnishings. Her husband’s a contractor and he’s worked on several historical homes in the area, so he might be willing to help you out.”

Selene took the paper and tucked it into the side pocket of her bag. “Thanks so much. I’ll pay her a visit today.”

After giving her thanks and a goodbye to Abby, Selene slid into her car for the trip to Baton Rouge. But before she could pull out into the street, a name jumped into her mind, as clear as the sound of the church’s bell now tolling in the town square. The name meant nothing to her at all, but the voice that spoke it did.

Adrien Morrell’s voice.

* * *

“Who’s Chloe?” Following the query, Selene watched her dinner companion’s expression herald first shock, then caution.

“Where did you hear that name?” Ella asked.

“In town.” She didn’t dare tell her exactly where the name had originated—in her mind.

Ella sent her a suspicious glance before pushing the pile of peas around on her plate. “That’s not possible. No one in town knows about her.”

“They believe a woman named Chloe was here for a while with Mr. Morrell, and then she was gone. Rumor has it she died.”

Ella dropped her fork, pushed her plate aside and folded her hands tightly before her on the table. “First, you can’t always believe what you hear, Selene. Second, I don’t know who told you about her, but if I were you, I’d drop it. Now.”

Selene couldn’t ignore Ella’s adamant tone, or the hint of anger. She worried that if she pushed too hard, Ella might push back. Or worse, dismiss her immediately regardless of the contract. “I drove into Baton Rouge today and found a woman who’s going to help me restore the furniture. Her husband has agreed to come by and give us an estimate on repairs. But he’s busy until next week.”

Ella thankfully smiled. “You definitely accomplished quite a bit today.”

“I also went by the courthouse,” Selene added. “The woman told me it would take several days for her to locate any plans, and that’s if they actually have any. Do you think I might find some here?”

Ella shrugged. “I’m sure Adrien probably has a set, but you’ll have to ask him.”

Not something Selene wanted to do, at least not tonight. “Is there some kind of attic where I might find old documents, maybe original abstracts?”

Ella picked up both hers and Selene’s plates, then stood. “Yes, there’s an attic. You’ll find the door at the end of the hallway past Adrien’s office. Feel free to explore it.” The look Ella sent her said, “If you dare.”

“Think I’ll check it out in the next few days.” In the daylight, Selene decided, because she definitely didn’t want to traipse around in a dusty attic in the dark, in case she should come across the stuff scary legends were made of, including an idiot. That thought almost made her laugh. Almost.

Selene pushed back from the table and stood. “Let me do the dishes.”

Ella waved a hand in dismissal. “I’ll do them, dear.”

“I insist,” Selene said as she began to gather the serving bowls. “I could use something to do while I think.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, we don’t have a dishwasher.”

Selene had noticed, and that would be the first appliance on the purchase list. “I have no problem using my own two hands.”

Ella sent her a cynical smile. “Have you ever washed dishes before, dear?”

“As a matter of fact, I have.” Much to her mother’s horror.

“Then I’ll gratefully take you up on your offer. I need to speak with Adrien before I retire, anyway.”

Most likely reporting to him about the new employee, Selene decided. But that didn’t really matter. So far, she had done nothing wrong other than bring up the name Chloe. And although she’d decided to steer clear of that topic for now, she suspected Ella knew much more than she was willing to reveal. A mystery that might never be solved, unless Selene made a conscious—or subconscious—effort to solve it.

No. She wouldn’t invade someone’s mind to gain information. She’d done that before, only to suffer for it. If she discovered anything at all, it would have to come from someone verbally volunteering the information, not by her intruding into an unsuspecting mind. She highly doubted Adrien Morrell would serve as that volunteer, even though she instinctively knew he held the key. But then again, she might not want to know.

* * *

Adrien didn’t bother to look up from the newspaper, even when Ella slid the covered plate and utensils in front of him. “If it’s cold, don’t blame me. You should come to dinner like a normal person.”

He sent a disinterested glance at the food before finally bringing his attention to Ella. “I’m sure it’s fine.”

Ella remained in the same spot, obviously in the mood for a little chat. “Don’t you want to know what our new houseguest has been doing?”

He knew exactly what she’d been doing—keeping him in sexual high gear, and she didn’t even realize it. Yet. He went back to the paper, hoping Ella might take the hint and leave. “I’ve told you, I’m not interested in her plans.” But he was definitely interested in her.

“She’s been asking about the house’s history,” Ella continued despite his comment. “I thought you might like to help her out with that.”

Adrien only wanted to help her out with one thing, and it had nothing to do with the past. He was much more interested in the immediate future. After folding the paper in precise creases, he set it aside. “What do you suggest?”

“First, she needs a set of blueprints,” she said.

He opened a drawer, withdrew a cardboard tube and offered it to her. “Here.”

Ella waved his offer of the plans. “You give them to her. It wouldn’t kill you to be nice to her.”

If Ella only knew how badly he wanted to be nice to Selene, she’d probably rescind the suggestion. “I’ll think about it. But right now, I have some work to do. Anything else that needs my attention?”

“Yes, shâ. Your manners.”

She spun around and headed out the door before Adrien could even offer a parting good-night. He wasn’t expecting to have a good night. He’d rarely had one for almost two years now. Sleep had been as elusive as peace over the past months, and last night had been no exception. It hadn’t helped that he’d encountered a woman who had shattered all his expectations. A woman who’d started a slow burn that had begun to heat up at a rapid pace.

Maybe Selene would like to spend a little time with him tonight. If she wanted to explore some history, he could accommodate her. He would willingly take her on a different kind of exploration, if she gave him some kind of sign she welcomed his attention. He had no cause to think she might, at least not now.

But he wouldn’t let that deter him. He would have never gotten anywhere in business if he’d avoided challenges. Now he had to convince Selene Winston she had nothing to fear from him, as long as she never learned the truth.




Three


When Selene crossed through the “angel arena” on the way to her room, an eerie feeling slowed her steps on her ascent up the spiral staircase. As she turned the corner into the dark corridor, her heart immediately jumped into her throat. A few feet away, Adrien stood in the hallway, dressed in a steel-gray shirt and black slacks, one shoulder leaned against the wall, hands firmly planted in his pockets. He was as stone-still as the statue behind him, although he had much more physical appeal.

Selene planned to send him a polite greeting and good-night before she retired to her room. But before she could even utter a word, he said, “Going to bed already?”

His voice was low and provocative, but then so was he. A sullen stranger set in shadows. The light was muted, but at least now she could fully appreciate the details of a face that could have been sculpted by the angels keeping vigil nearby. No horrid disfigurement. No mask of death. No real innocence, either, especially when it came to his eyes. Those deadly cut-glass blue eyes that he kept trained on her while she simply stood there as if in a trance.

Again Selene hugged her arms to her middle and finally snapped out of her stupor. “I’ve had a busy day,” she said. “I’m tired.”

He pushed off the wall but kept a safe distance. “Too tired for a little adventure?”

The question shook Selene’s waning calm so strongly she couldn’t speak for a few moments. “What kind of adventure?”

He took a slow step toward her. “Ella told me you’re interested in the history of this house. I have something that might satisfy you.”

His emphasis on satisfy shook her up even more. “What exactly would that be?”

“I could tell you, but I’d prefer to show you.”

Selene checked her watch, more out of nervousness than true concern with the time. Although it was barely past nine, she said, “It is getting late.”

“I’ll make it worth your while.”

He’d lowered his voice a notch and Selene responded with a slight shiver. A pleasant one that was both unexpected and inadvisable. “Where exactly would we be going for this adventure?”

He nodded toward the opposite end of the corridor. “To my office.”

An office seemed relatively safe, but could she really be safe around him? She had two options—to trust him or use her gift to sift through his thoughts. She opened her mind briefly, but came up with nothing. No visions of him holding her hostage or doing her bodily harm. At least not yet.

“Lead the way.” The words spilled out of her mouth without any further consideration. If she really intended to work for him, she had to give him some of her trust, unless he proved he didn’t deserve it. And hopefully not after it was too late for her to turn back.

She followed him down the hall, past the stairway and into the wing Ella had described to her during the initial tour, a place she had yet to explore. They passed by the closed door leading to the nursery, Selene presumed. When they reached another door adjacent to that, Adrien opened it and stepped aside for her to enter.

The large office was thoroughly modern, from the solid oak desk lit by a lone lamp to the computer sitting on a counter in the corner. Several binders were stacked neatly in an in-box and a silver canister housed various pens. Everything in its place and not at all what Selene had expected. But at least the room was sufficiently cool. In fact, it was cooler than most of the house, thanks to that modern convenience known as a window unit. Might have been nice if someone had bothered to install them everywhere.

When she heard the door close behind her, Selene fought the urge to spin around and display some serious panic. For all intents and purposes, she was trapped. He could do with her what he wanted and she doubted Ella would hear a single cry of distress.

Still, she wasn’t getting any strange vibes or sense of looming disaster. When she faced him, she did get the full effect of Adrien’s slight smile. The first she’d witnessed so far. “What do you want to show me?”

He slid his hands into his pockets again and looked much more relaxed than she felt. “A journal.”

Selene had learned nothing was of more value in recreating the past than personal writings. “Where is it?” she asked, her tone revealing her enthusiasm over the discovery.

Adrien crossed the room to his right, opened a door and flipped on a light. “Up here.”

Selene moved closer to see a dimly lit, narrow staircase and made a mental note to have someone replace all the low-wattage bulbs in the house as soon as possible. She took a mental step back when she realized she would have to accompany her employer into a remote area. “It looks like you might find a bat or two up there.” She’d said it with humor to mask her wariness.

He hinted at another smile. “No bats, but maybe a few spiders.”

“Lovely.”

He studied her for a moment. “Are you afraid of spiders, Selene?”

Insects had never been her best friends, but she wasn’t exactly arachnophobic. “No. As long as they keep their distance.”

“Are you afraid of me?”

A very good question, one that Selene needed to seriously ponder. “Any reason why I should be?”

“Not at all.”

He sounded convincing to Selene, but could she really believe him? She could usually rely on her instincts, though, and they were telling her he had no plans to injure her. As far as any other plans went—questionable plans—she supposed she would have to take her chances and keep a firm grip on self-control.

She made a sweeping gesture toward the staircase. “After you.”

He took the first step and when she hung back, he shifted slightly and offered his hand. “I’ll make sure you don’t fall.”

Selene wasn’t all that concerned with falling. Years of ballet lessons had cured her of any serious clumsiness. But she was concerned about touching him again. Concerned that she might experience another blow to her senses. Yet instead of insisting on managing without his help, she reached out and accepted his offered hand. This time, the contact sent a rush of heat coursing through her body, as if she were being warmed from the inside out. The sensation was overwhelming and as they started to ascend the stairs, it only grew more intense. He glanced back at her now and then with eyes as blue as the ceiling in the rotunda. By the time they reached the top, Selene was both winded and very, very warm, even when he released his grasp on her.

The landing opened into another room, this one smaller with a narrow shelf housing volumes of aged books. In the corner sat a mahogany pedestal desk, and a lone straight-backed chair covered in red satin. The area was dusty, the ceiling draped with a few cobwebs, but other than that, it didn’t look at all menacing. At least where bats and bugs were concerned.

“At one time this was the garçonnière,” Adrien said as he remained at her side. “The original bachelor’s quarters, probably used by a previous owner.”

But obviously not used by Adrien, Selene thought. “Your grandfather?”

He forked a hand through his hair. “No. Giles wasn’t one to stay in the same place for very long. He had a solid case of wanderlust. I inherited that from him.”

She sent him a smile. “You’re inclined to travel, I take it.”

“Not in a while.” He strolled to the bookshelves then faced her again. “I’ve been all over the world. Europe. Africa. Central America. Mostly off the beaten path. Spain is one of my favorite spots.”

She walked to the desk and leaned against it. “Don’t tell me. You’ve run with the bulls in Pamplona.”

“Actually, no. I would be more inclined to root for the bulls since I believe that animals sometimes have more merit than humans.”

A point in his favor, Selene decided. “So you’re a thrill seeker as long as it doesn’t involve cruelty to animals.”

“At one time, yes.”

He looked and sounded regretful, and that only served to spur Selene’s interest. “I’ve been to Europe several times,” she said to break the brief span of uncomfortable silence. “Mostly London. The usual tourist spots.”

He rested one elbow on the edge of the shelf. “Ever done any cliff diving in Mexico?”

She laughed. “I’m not fond of heights.”

“Ever stood on a deserted beach, naked, and watched the sun come up?”

Only in her wildest dreams. “I’m afraid not.”

“You should experience it at some point in time.”

Little did he know, he’d taken her there through his recollections, images that were too strong to bar from her mind. She experienced the salty breeze blowing over her bare skin and the sun on her face, smelled the scents of the sea, felt his palms forming to her waist, curving over her abdomen and lower….

Forcing herself out of his fantasy, she turned her attention to the shelves to avoid his steady gaze. “I’ve often wondered what it would have been like to live years ago, when times were less complex and modern conveniences were nonexistent.”

“I’ve been in places where you had to rely solely on nature,” he said. “It’s a rush.”

Selene decided his deep, steady voice was a rush. “I’m too old and set in my ways to rough it too much.”

He inclined his head and narrowed his eyes to assess her. “You’re what, maybe late twenties?”

“Thirty-two. And you?”

“Thirty-five. How old were you when you married?”

Obviously he knew much more about her than she knew about him. “Twenty-four. I’ve been divorced for a year.”

He paced the room’s perimeter, glancing at her now and then, as if he were some wild, agitated creature of the night assessing his quarry. “Seven years, just in time for that proverbial itch.”

“You could definitely say that.”

He stopped and leaned back against the shelves a few feet away from her. “Did that itch include both of you?”

As much as she wanted to know Adrien better, she was growing increasingly uncomfortable with the conversation. Drudging up her past with Richard always made her ill at ease. “Maybe you could show me the journal now.”

“If that’s what you want.”

He headed straight for her with slow, stalking steps and Selene’s gaze immediately tracked to his mouth, the softness of his lips that contrasted with the rigid set of his jaw, the slight cleft in his chin. All too late she realized he’d noticed her interest when he showed some semblance of another smile. Knowing. Sensual.

When he reached the desk, Selene stifled a catch of breath even though he passed by her. She regarded him over her shoulder to see him opening a drawer and withdrawing a small black journal that had seen better days. Olden days, she would guess.

Adrien rounded the desk and offered it to her. “I’ve marked the place that might interest you.”

She took the diary, opened it where a pale pink satin ribbon indicated the spot and noted the date at the top of the page—July 1875. But before she could scan the faded script, Adrien said, “Read it out loud.”

She turned her attention from the page to him. “You haven’t read it?”

“Yes, I have. But I want to hear your voice.”

His voice was so indisputably sensuous, so compelling that Selene couldn’t think of one argument. She turned and laid the journal open on the desk while he began pacing the room once more. After clearing her throat, she began to read.

“‘This afternoon, I again met Z. at the abandoned sharecropper’s cabin near the swamp at his plantation. Should my father discover I am keeping company with his enemy, he would be furious. If he knew what I have done, he would surely kill him.’”

Selene paused and glanced back at Adrien to find him no more than a foot away. “Who wrote this?”

“I don’t know. I came across it one day a few months ago.”

“I’m wondering if maybe the woman named Grace in the portrait downstairs is the author.”

“That’s possible,” he said. “Keep going.”

Selene went back to the journal, driven by her need to know more about the unidentified author’s rendezvous. “‘I have given freely of my affections to Z., accepted his stolen kisses. He spoke to me about the ways between a man and a woman, and told me things that any proper lady would never consider. Yet I listened, and then I begged him to show me.’”

Again she glanced back at Adrien only to discover he’d moved closer. “I’m feeling a bit like a voyeur.”

“I think it’s an interesting commentary on the mores of the past,” he said. “But if it makes you uncomfortable, hand it to me and I’ll read it.”

She noted the challenge in his tone, and she intended to answer it. After all, they were both adults, and she highly doubted anything written in this journal would compare to what was featured in modern literature in terms of sexuality. “I’ll do it.”

After drawing in a deep breath, she turned her attention back to the journal entry. “‘In Z.’s arms, I am a wanton. I barely recognize myself. I allowed him to lower my chemise, allowed him to touch my breasts. Never before have I experienced such pleasure. Never before have I been so open or so free. I wanted more. I wanted all that he could give me.’”

Selene’s words faltered when a hand came to rest on her shoulder. Adrien’s hand. As his fingertips idled over her bare arm, she tried to ignore the rhythmic, enticing motion. Tried to disregard the frisson of pleasure brought about by his touch. “Continue,” he whispered. “It only gets better.”

Good judgment failed Selene and so did her resolve to avoid this very thing. “‘He lifted my skirt and slid his hand beneath my drawers. He touched my most secret place, touched me in ways I had never imagined. My body was no longer mine. It belonged to him….’”

Adrien chose that moment to slide his hand down Selene’s hip, brushing her pelvis briefly before settling his palm on her lower abdomen. She studied his golden skin against her white slacks, the width of his hand, his blunt fingers. He moved completely against her, his solid chest meeting her back.

She only had enough strength to close the journal and mutter, “That’s enough for now.” But she didn’t push his hand away. Didn’t scold him. Didn’t move.

“It’s not enough.”

As if he’d bound her with invisible twine and gave it a tug, she slowly turned to face him. She knew exactly what he planned to do when the image flashed in her mind a split second before he lowered his head.

The minute Adrien’s mouth met hers, Selene stepped into a sensory minefield, bombarded by his subtle, clean scent, the taste of scotch on his lips, the suggestive foray of his tongue against hers. And suddenly it seemed she’d melted into his body, into his soul, experiencing his pleasure as well as her own. Because of this psychic communion, she also knew he needed more from her, wanted more from her.

Still, she had no desire to escape him, no will left to fight. No cause to loosen the grasp she now had on his shoulders even though she’d lost all grip on reality. But the mental as well as the physical connection ended when he stepped back and scrubbed a hand over his jaw.

“My apologies,” he said. “I forgot myself for a few minutes.”

As far as Selene was concerned, he hadn’t forgotten a thing. The kiss had been part of a carefully crafted plan of seduction, and she’d walked right into his trap without a moment’s hesitation.

She reached back, picked up the journal from the desk and tapped it against her open palm. “I’m going to read the rest of this later, and we’ll forget what just happened.”

He backed up a few steps and hid his hands in pockets again. “Go ahead and try to forget it.”

I won’t….

His thought came to Selene as sharp as a dagger, traveled along the mental passage connecting her mind with his. “We need to maintain a professional relationship.”

He brandished his grin like a pirate wielding a sword, cutting her determination to shreds. “A little late for that.”

All heaven and hell might break loose if she didn’t escape that instant. Self-preservation sent her to the door, clutching the journal to her chest. “I’m going to my room now.”

“One more thing, Selene.”

The soft sound of her name sliding from his lips acted on her like a potent magnet, drawing her around to face him, where she found him holding out a cardboard tube. “What’s that?”

“The plans for the house.”

She moved only close enough to take the tube from his grasp. “Thank you.”

“And let me set you straight on something. I didn’t hire you. Ella did. As far as I’m concerned, you work for her, not me. Which means we don’t have a professional relationship. In fact, if I’d had my way, you would already be gone.”

Selene was so incredulous she almost couldn’t speak. “Is that what this whole thing is all about? You’re trying to drive me away?”





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