Книга - Wedding Captives

Wedding Captives
Cassie Miles


Join these brave men and women for edge-of-your-seat suspense and happily-ever-after romance!TIME WAS RUNNING OUT…Thea Sarazin thought she was attending her friend's wedding at a remote castle in the mountains, but when she arrived, destiny had other ideas. Her senses were on red alert when she discovered that one of the wedding guests was Spence Cannon–the man she had almost married. Determined not to fall for him again,Thea kept her distance. But all bets were off when the wedding guests found themselves at the mercy of a madman hellbent on revenge. In the most desperate of times, could Spence and Thea admit their true feelings and join forces against a deadly foe?







Spence was so near to her that she could feel his heat

Thea tried another tactic. “Let’s just agree on two things. We won’t squabble. And there will be no unnecessary touching. No kissing. Nothing.”

“Well, that’s hardly fair, Thea, after you spent the gondola ride groping me.”

“I was not groping! I—”

The corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile. “Okay.” He relented. “Call it holding on. I just think I ought to have the chance to return that favor.”

“Don’t…” His blue eyes warmed as he gazed confidently into her face, and she felt herself responding, wanting to smile back at him. “Don’t even think about it, Spence.”

“I’ve got a few conditions of my own,” he said. “Number one—we stay in the present and not dwell on the past. Number two—we both keep our minds open. Number three…” He obliterated the distance between them in a single step. She should have pushed him away, but her arms went around him and she wanted the taste of his lips against hers.


Dear Harlequin Intrigue Reader,

Cupid’s bow is loaded at Harlequin Intrigue with four fabulous stories of breathtaking romantic suspense—starting with the continuation of Cassie Miles’s COLORADO SEARCH AND RESCUE miniseries. In Wedding Captives, lovers reunite on a mountaintop…unfortunately they’re also snowbound with a madman!

And there’s no better month to launch our new modern gothic continuity series MORIAH’S LANDING. Amanda Stevens emerges from the New England fog with Secret Sanctuary, the first of four titles coming out over the next several months. You can expect all of the classic themes you love in these stories, plus more of the contemporary edge you’ve come to expect from our brand of romantic suspense.

You know what can happen In the Blink of an Eye…? Julie Miller does! And you can find out, too, in the next installment of her TAYLOR CLAN series.

Finally, Jean Barrett takes you to New Orleans for some Private Investigations with battling P.I.’s. It’s a regular showdown in the French Quarter—where absolutely anything goes.

So celebrate Valentine’s Day with the most confounding mystery of all…that of the heart.

Deep, rich chocolate wishes,

Denise O’Sullivan

Associate Senior Editor

Harlequin Intrigue


Wedding Captives

Cassie Miles






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




ABOUT THE AUTHOR


Cassie Miles lives in Denver, one of the fastest growing cities in the country, with the traffic jams to prove it. She belongs to the film society and enjoys artsy subtitled cinema almost as much as movies where stuff blows up. Her favorite entertainment is urban, ranging from sports to museum exhibits to coffeehouse espresso. Yet she never loses sight of the Rocky Mountains through the kitchen window.




Books by Cassie Miles


HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE

122—HIDE AND SEEK

150—HANDLE WITH CARE

237—HEARTBREAK HOTEL

269—ARE YOU LONESOME TONIGHT?

285—DON’T BE CRUEL

320—MYSTERIOUS VOWS

332—THE SUSPECT GROOM

363—THE IMPOSTER

381—RULE BREAKER

391—GUARDED MOMENTS

402—A NEW YEAR’S CONVICTION

443—A REAL ANGEL

449—FORGET ME NOT

521—FATHER, LOVER, BODYGUARD

529—THE SAFE HOSTAGE

584—UNDERCOVER PROTECTOR

645—STATE OF EMERGENCY† (#litres_trial_promo)

649—WEDDING CAPTIVES† (#litres_trial_promo)

HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

567—BUFFALO MCCLOUD

574—BORROWED TIME










CAST OF CHARACTERS


Thea Sarazin—She comes to the castle as a bridesmaid, never expecting to face her former fiancé, never dreaming she’ll be threatened by the revenge scheme of a madman.

Spence Cannon—His search-and-rescue training might be the difference between life and death for the wedding party and the woman he loves.

Jenny Trevain—The bride’s wedding weekend turns into three days of terror.

Dr. Mona Nance—The psychiatrist knows too many secrets and reveals none of them.

Reverend Joshua Handy—Before he became a man of God, he lived a mysterious life.

Lawrence—The butler carries a handgun and seems to know little about his housekeeping duties.

Travis Trevain—The bride’s younger brother, an Olympic-class freestyle skier, believes he’s the best at everything.

Gregory Rosemont—The reclusive Internet billionaire has never been photographed and has spent his life and fortune preparing the perfect revenge.


For Cheryl McGonigle.

Couldn’t have done it without you.




Contents


Prologue (#u6b0b642f-93d2-5da8-b6e8-182021c41187)

Chapter One (#u835057fd-cbc7-5678-9f4f-c65039226769)

Chapter Two (#ub0036038-e545-50a2-ba8d-099297b99abd)

Chapter Three (#u027c1e06-c20c-5435-85d4-72dffc7051d1)

Chapter Four (#uf553b87e-e136-5707-896a-1f5716497f0c)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)




Prologue


Beyond the carved stone entryway to Castle in the Clouds, the shadows of a winter night bled and puddled along the edges of the snow-packed pathway. Rolling clouds churned across the face of the full moon and obscured the glimmer of starlight. The cloaking darkness suited the purposes of Gregory Rosemont, the owner of this stately manor situated on a high crest surrounded by glacial Colorado peaks. He was not ready to reveal himself. His flashlight beam hardly penetrated the tapestry of icy haze, yet he strode with confidence. He knew every inch of this rugged mountaintop, every stone, every tree. He had memorized the cliffs and precipices that isolated the castle, making it accessible only by a ten-person ski gondola hung from a tensile steel cable.

His light shone against the walls of the gondola house, constructed from locally quarried granite to match the crenellated ramparts. Tomorrow, the gondola car would make its last ascent. Tomorrow, he would mount his final revenge.

For years, he had arranged this event with compulsive attention to detail. He had amassed a fortune to finance his goal. And now, his plan was perfect, an exacting test for the remorseless specimens of humanity who were to be his guests.

Inside the gondola house, he slipped the backpack from his shoulders, took out his tools and went to work. Ignoring the huge metal cogs and wheels necessary to haul the weight of the car, he concentrated on a precision piece of machinery that would slice through the cable at exactly the right moment to send the gaily painted gondola car plummeting hundreds of feet into the chasm below.

In his vivid imagination, he heard the shattering of the fiberglass car, torn by jagged teeth of stone. Tomorrow, the screams of terror would echo endlessly against the cold, unforgiving mountains. It would be a spectacular crash.

As he adjusted the coils, the spring-loaded severing mechanism squealed, metal against metal. The gloves he wore to ward off the sub-zero chill impeded his efforts, but he was glad for the cold, the promise of snowfall. A January blizzard would hamper any rescue attempt.

His task completed, he allowed himself a smug grin. He’d thought of everything, left nothing to chance.

As he hiked back along the path, moonlight spilled through a break in the clouds, illuminating the turrets and sculpted ramparts of the fanciful medieval-style castle. The only light shone from the high window of the bridal suite above.




Chapter One


In the fading mid-afternoon sunlight, Thea Sarazin trudged uphill toward the small stone house where a ski gondola would transport her across an impossibly wide chasm to the Castle in the Clouds.

In addition to her small suitcase, she carried a garment bag containing a floor-length gown. After this weekend, she’d add this brocaded creation in sunrise orange—a color particularly unsuited to Thea’s olive complexion, hazel eyes and dark brown hair—to the other three godawful bridesmaid dresses that hung, swathed in dry cleaner’s plastic, in the back of her closet.

Though she’d sworn never again to be part of a wedding party, she couldn’t refuse when asked by Jenny Trevain, her co-worker at Lloyd Middle School in Denver. Not only was Jenny a good friend but the wedding meant spending a weekend at this fabled mansion where she would finally meet Jenny’s reclusive fiancé, Gregory Rosemont.

The whole event was simply too fanciful and romantic for Thea to resist, especially since Jenny was also thirty-four, and had likewise resigned herself to the odds against ever finding true love. And then, seemingly out of nowhere, Jenny had been swept into every woman’s fantasy romance, a whirlwind courtship by a rich and mysterious captain of industry.

Rosemont was…okay, an eccentric multi-millionaire who had earned his fortune with one of the first online shopping Web sites. Just for this weekend of fancy, Thea preferred to think of it all as exciting and exotic. Jenny’s love affair rekindled the hopes and dreams of every almost-a-spinster like Thea. She sighed.

A dream come true. Thea knew better. She was sure she knew better. But an engagement ring from Tiffany’s! Marriage to the modern-day equivalent of a prince. The guy owned a castle, for goodness’ sake!

On the other hand, Gregory Rosemont also had the reputation of a genuine twenty-four-carat recluse. There were no existing photographs of him. Not even Jenny had one. He never gave interviews. He ruled his business from afar, keeping in touch through the highest of high-tech computer innovations. Privacy was a big deal to this man who chose to live on a mountaintop which could only be reached by a mile-long ride on a ski gondola. No doubt his communications with the outer world required satellites…or something. Computer technology wasn’t her forte.

The extreme cold bit at Thea’s nose. Around her, in the below-freezing chill of the clean, crisp mountain air, rose mountains as old as time. If she hadn’t just driven the wickedly iced-over access road several miles from an interstate highway, she could believe she’d crossed over into some frozen other-world, never to be seen or heard from again.

Where was Jenny’s car? Where was anyone?

Thea’s feet were freezing, her fingers already numb. She told herself to get a grip and keep going. Maybe the stone house for the gondola was heated. Thea was beginning to worry about the cold, the isolation and—most especially—about dear, sweet, naive Jenny who planned to change her fiancé into a marginally sociable human being after the wedding. Thea couldn’t believe it. Jekyll and Hyde belonged in fiction. Hoping for a metamorphosis on that scale was like hoping to transform Colorado’s rugged fourteen-thousand-foot granite peaks into foothills fit for an afternoon hike.

Pretty darned unrealistic.

She’d talked to Jenny, warning her about trying to transform her husband-to-be. Thea had been engaged herself once before and had hoped that her nurturing love would ease an arrogant, ambitious M.D. into a more sensitive human being. Talk about an impossible dream!

But Jenny was in love, and women in love fooled themselves every day. Twice on Sunday.

Why was the parking so dratted far from the only possible destination up here?

As she neared the rough-hewn stone gondola house, Thea noticed the coat of arms, depicting a single blooming rose—probably to represent the rose in Rosemont—two interlocking crowns and four daggers. She thought about what conceit it took for a computer whiz to invent himself a brand-spanking-new coat of arms, then scolded herself. She might get conceited too, if she ever even saw a million dollars.

She should really cut Gregory Rosemont some slack. After all, Jenny loved him. She unlatched the heavy wooden door and pushed it open. No one else was here. And if possible, the stone house was even colder than the outdoors.

Pushing up her parka sleeve, she glanced at her wristwatch. She’d made good time from Denver, considering that she’d driven under ten miles an hour on the scary stretch of snow-packed, winding road without even a guardrail. She’d arrived half an hour early. Still, she’d expected to find someone here to greet her. A butler, perhaps.

She deposited her suitcase and garment bag on the stone benches that lined the dreary granite walls. In one corner was a wood-burning stove, unlit. On the opposite wall were metal lockers and an ornately decorated, old-fashioned combination safe.

The fiberglass gondola car seemed modern enough in spite of giant cog-wheel machinery that, to Thea, smacked of a medieval torture device. She eyed the steel cable from which the gondola car was suspended. Was it strong enough to hold the weight of several people? She was not only not fond of heights, she was a card-carrying acrophobe.

Evil boy cousins had stranded her in the rafters in her Uncle Harry’s barn when Thea was only five, while her brothers had laughed till they hurled—and she’d never, ever gotten over it. She was good at pretending she had—so far as she knew, no one had ever guessed what a chicken she was—but she couldn’t fool herself.

She absolutely expected the gondola ride to be the worst part of her weekend. For Jenny, she would do it.

She left her luggage and went outdoors again, barely making tracks across the crusted, deep-packed snow, angling for the best view of the castle to distract herself from the only possible approach. She hadn’t dared try to get a glimpse of the castle from the road. The driving had consumed her white-knuckled attention.

Above the snowplowed parking area carved out of the surrounding forest, she peered across the deep, wide chasm. Through gathering storm clouds, she saw thick stone towers rising on either end of a large main structure. Gothic battlements strangely complemented the Moorishstyle arched windows and gables from yet another era. The delightfully eclectic, bizarre architecture bespoke a fascinating history. Jenny inevitably went into raptures describing the castle.

Another vehicle finally pulled into the parking lot below the gondola house. From her vantage point, Thea stared curiously at the four-wheel-drive van. The wedding party was supposed to be small, but Jenny had been dropping gleeful hints about some of the other invited guests. Thea even suspected an attempt at matchmaking. She wasn’t really looking for a boyfriend, but a weekend in a castle might be the perfect time and place for a wonderful romantic assignation.

A tryst.

Thea shook her head at herself, careening from pillar to post, dread and certain panic over the gondola to flights of romantic fantasy.

Strangers to her, an attractive couple of about her own age emerged from the van. Then, the rear door slid open, and a third passenger climbed out. A man. A tall, broad-shouldered man.

Spence Cannon.

A shiver gripped her…was it an acute, terrible loneliness? Recognition? Or only the cold?

She hadn’t laid eyes on the man who’d once asked her to marry him in over five years. She clapped her chattering teeth tightly together. He looked good. Fine, really…fine. Annoyingly so, she snapped at herself. His sun-streaked hair fell rakishly across his forehead. From this distance, she couldn’t see his deep-set blue eyes at all, but she knew that his expression would be cool and outrageously condescending. She’d thought, all those eons ago when she still believed she was going to conquer the world herself, that the combination of cool and condescending was sexy, an invitation, a dare.

She’d fooled herself every day she and Spence were together. Twice on Sunday. And that was a conservative estimate.

She turned back toward the Castle and glared. Damn you, Jenny. How could Jenny think Thea ever wanted to see Spence again? Whatever they’d shared, even if she’d called it love, had been cold, dead ashes for a long time, swept under a carpet and ground to infinitesimal dust. Her pride would never allow their relationship to be rekindled, even if her sanity went on holiday.

She tried to tell herself that the memory of their breakup didn’t hurt anymore, but it obviously did. Pain like a bolt of lightning stabbed somewhere near the center of her forehead. Almost blinded, she recoiled, retreating into the shadow of the trees, hiding herself like a scared rabbit.

A momentary urge seized her to leave this desolate mountaintop. To gather up her grotesque bridesmaid dress and run, not walk, back to the safety of her Denver town-house and her two cats.

Coward! She’d been looking forward to this long weekend, and she wouldn’t let Spence ruin it. She could handle him.

She could be strong. She’d done it once. Five years ago, she’d been the one to call off their engagement and return his diamond ring. Very tough, very brave, utterly lonely. She’d sat home alone, night after night, staring at the telephone like one of her boy-smitten middle-schoolers, praying for the boy to call. Futilely waiting on the reconciliation call that never came.

She could be strong.

She peeked out from behind a tree trunk. Damn you, Spence. Why did he have to look so good?

TODAY WOULD BE either the best or the worst day of Spence Cannon’s life. He hated the uncertainty.

“Come on!” his friend Emily called out. “Let’s take a good look at this place.”

Spence really couldn’t have cared less about the so-called castle. His decision to accept Jenny’s wedding invitation was based entirely on the fact that he knew Thea Sarazin would be there. He wanted another chance with her.

“Look at the gondola house! With a coat of arms, no less. That’s fairly pretentious!” Emily charged up the path with the agility of a mountain goat, then she whirled and embraced her new husband, Jordan Shane. “Doesn’t it make you think of knights in shining armor and princesses and jousts?”

“Looks cold,” Jordan said.

“That’s the fun part.” Her voice lowered to a purr. “We’ll share bodily warmth to keep warm.”

Spence joined them. “Give it a rest, Emily. All this newlywed joy is making me hyperglycemic.”

“What’s wrong with you?”

Thea’s car, he thought, glancing back at the only other vehicle in the snowplowed lot. That had to be Thea’s car. He was distracted, all right. He couldn’t explain the combination of excitement and dread he felt about seeing her again. Being with her.

It had been over five years since he’d heard her calm, clear voice. Or reduced calm-and-clear to a throaty cry of pleasure. Or seen her heart-shaped face, or traced its shape with his lips. But he remembered, vividly, the startling depths in her hazel eyes and the silky texture of her chestnut hair falling through his fingers.

So many nights since, he’d wakened with the scent of her musky perfume lingering in the dark around him. In dreams, he knew the indescribable softness of her inner thigh, the sweet fullness of her breasts, the taste of her lush ripe lips. And then, those lips would speak, and she’d tell him she never wanted to see him again. Never.

No compromise.

Not ever.

His friend, Emily, joined him on the path. “You look sad, Spence. Want to talk about it?”

“Thea is the one who broke up with me,” he muttered. “I’m the one who should expect an apology. Right?”

“It depends. Why did she end the relationship?”

He shrugged. “She thought I betrayed her.”

“With another woman?”

“Hell, no. I’d never do anything like that.”

“What was it?” Emily asked. “What did you do?”

“It’s complicated.” He didn’t like talking about relationships, facing the fact that he’d made a mistake and put his career ahead of Thea’s needs. Had he been in the wrong? Possibly. Was he sorry? Definitely. “I want her back.”

He shoved open the door to the gondola house. Would she be inside, waiting for him? Would she forgive him? The interior of the stone house was about as cold and empty as her heart the last time they were together, but there on the stone bench he saw her luggage.

He dropped his overnight bag on the flagstone floor. Nothing about the place boded well, save Thea’s luggage.

Emily and Jordan spilled inside behind him. “Too bad we’re not invited to the wedding. I wonder if we can hitch a ride up to the top, just for a treat,” she said. “I’d love to see the castle.”

“Doubtful.” Her husband Jordan studied the cogs of the gondola machinery. “Gregory Rosemont makes the late Howard Hughes look like a party animal. Even that’s a stretch. Everyone’s heard of Howard Hughes. Rosemont has come out of nowhere.”

“But Jordan, you have something in common,” Emily protested. “He’s a computer guy, like you.”

“All the more reason for him to be secretive,” Jordan said. “Rosemont might think I was here to steal his ideas.”

“Not you, Jordan.”

As she melted into her husband’s arms again, Spence exited the stone house. Of course, he felt glad that Emily and Jordan had found each other and fallen in love. After what they’d been through with Jordan being unjustly accused of murder and on the run, they deserved some happiness. But their bliss underlined his own solitary existence as a general practitioner in the small mountain town of Cascadia, a far less fashionable outpost than nearby Aspen.

After four years, the locals had pretty much given up on finding him a mate. He’d taken on the role of the kindly, bachelor doc who worked weekends with the Cascadia Search-and-Rescue unit. Searching for Thea, only now seeing small footprints in the crusted snow, he looked up toward the top of a snowy ridge. And there he saw her framed in an icy landscape with dark storm clouds rising behind her.

She’d cut her long hair into a straight, chin-length bob. Her burgundy parka matched her boots and gloves. As always, she looked organized and controlled. Only after he’d gotten to know her had Spence discovered the wild woman who lived inside, an impetuous creature who loved laughter and excitement. His body, having a memory of its own, was already responding to the vision of Thea.

Energized, his inhibitions leaking out with each breath he took, he hiked toward her, fully intending to grab hold of her and kiss the frown off her mouth. He was near enough to see a glimmer of vulnerability in her beautiful hazel eyes. She wanted him as much as he wanted her.

And then she spoke. “You look older, Spence.”

His instincts urged him on. Go ahead. Embrace her. Kiss her. “You cut your hair.”

“It’s not the only thing different about me.”

He tried to ignore the warning note in her voice. He wanted to touch her, to trace the line of her chin, to brush his thumb across the surface of her lips. “You’re still beautiful.”

“But older, now. Wiser.”

“Wise enough to forgive?” His hand raised, reaching toward her, needing the contact.

“No.” She clasped his bare hand in her gloved fingers and gave a firm, business-like shake. Quickly, she released and stepped back. “Spence, why did you come here?”

He felt his heart thud. He reminded her that he and Jenny had been friends long before he even met Thea. “And she invited me.”

“Because she thought we’d get back together.” Her voice quavered, but she said, “Jenny was wrong.”

“Was she?”

“Kiss and make up,” Thea said, “is not an option.”

Before he could respond, she stepped around him and proceeded toward the gondola house where she politely introduced herself to Emily and Jordan. Spence stood rooted in the snow, staring after her. In the center of his chest, his heart clenched like an iron fist. His lungs ceased operation. A few words from Thea had driven him to the brink of myocardial infarction.

Breathe, you idiot! He sucked down an ice-cold breath, tasting impending snowfall in the air. This reunion hadn’t begun the way he’d hoped. She’d rejected him. Again.

He exhaled a puff of steam. Kissing is not an option? Like hell! He’d heard the hesitation in Thea’s voice.

Growing warmer inside at the notion of Thea and her sweet, maybe unconscious hesitation, he pretended interest in the isolated castle across the wide chasm. The granite structure appeared to be impregnable, perched above high cliffs. But nothing was unreachable. You can’t hide from me, Thea. They’d be trapped there for two and a half days. It might take that long for him to change her mind. This time, he wouldn’t give her up without a fight.

He turned toward the parking area and watched as a shiny new Ford Explorer swerved across the snow, nearly sideswiping his van. A wild man in a colorful ski outfit and dyed white-blond hair leapt out and gave a loud whoop. “Where’s my big sis?” he yelled.

Obviously, this was Travis Trevain, Jenny’s brother. He was ranked as a world-class freestyle skier, one of those hot-dog show-offs who flip through the air in screaming pirouettes that couldn’t really be considered sport.

Spence took an immediate dislike to Travis. He knew the guy was the only family Jenny had left after her father, a renowned virologist Spence had once worked with, had passed away. Baby brother Travis hadn’t attended the funeral seven years ago. He’d been in drug rehab.

His current manic behavior suggested a relapse. Two and a half days with this jerk? Spence was particularly disgusted with the way Travis grabbed everybody, including Thea, in bear hugs. Especially Thea.

Stalking down the hill, Spence prepared to stake his claim before Travis decided to make her his weekend conquest. But the blond skier bounded halfway up the hill to greet him with arms flung wide. His red and yellow parka matched with skin-tight ski pants made him look, in Spence’s jaded opinion, like a demented snow parrot.

Spence blocked the hug and shook hands instead. “You must be Travis Trevain. I’m Spence Cannon.”

“Wow, yeah? I gotta say it, then.” Travis socked him on the shoulder, shaking his head in admiration. “I owe you, big-time. Thanks, man.”

“For what?”

“You hung in there for Jenny,” Travis said. “At the old man’s funeral. When she needed a friend.”

Spence might have pointed out that what Jenny had really needed was her brother, that Travis’s addictive behavior had broken his father’s heart. That, even then, even after their father died, especially then, Jenny could have used a brother at her side. But there was no point in rebuke. And Spence was in favor of letting the past be over in more ways than the one that mattered most to him right now—getting Thea to let it go. “Jenny keeps me updated on your career. How’s your health?”

“Aces, man.” Travis started to launch into the marvels of his conditioning.

Spence was rescued from that conversation by his friend Jordan, who called up to him. “Hey Spence! Sorry, Travis, but I need Spence to check something in the van.”

“No prob.” He clapped Spence on the back. “We got a whole weekend to be buds.”

Don’t hold your breath, hot dog. Spence strode downhill and then fell into step beside Jordan.

As they reached the parking area, Jordan asked, “How are you doing?”

“Fine.” Spence spat the word. Thea was talking to Emily up near the gondola house. He wanted to know what Emily was saying about him.

“Your jaw’s clenched, my friend. The vein in your forehead is pumping,” Jordan observed. “Emily says it’s hypertension.”

Emily was a nurse, specifically trained in emergency medicine, and Spence respected her ability enough that he planned to leave his practice in her hands during this long weekend. At the moment, however, he didn’t want Emily’s diagnosis.

“I’m fine,” he repeated. He knew where this conversation was headed and he was wishing real hard right now that he had never confided in Jordan and Emily at all. They both knew Spence had a lot of hopes invested in this weekend.

Jordan’s dark, intense gaze focused on the surrounding forest as if he were intent upon counting the trees. Emily’s husband didn’t do a lot of unnecessary chatting. “A while back, you and I had a talk about soulmates. You know the one—for every man, there’s one perfect match.”

Sneaking a look at Emily and Thea chatting away, Spence wondered what force in the universe it was that always sent your words of well-intentioned advice boomeranging right back at you. “Nothing’s perfect.”

“No, but some things come close.” Jordan kept counting trees. “You never said. Why did you and Thea break up in the first place?”

“It was my fault,” Spence said. He’d been an ass, putting his career ahead of Thea, ignoring her needs. He’d been a fool. “I never claimed to be a sensitive guy. I’m a doctor.”

“Like the two are mutually exclusive?” Jordan shook his head, apparently dismissing Spence’s self-recriminations. “So, are you saying you’ve changed?”

“Since Thea knew me? Oh, yeah.” If Thea gave him half a chance, he believed she’d like the man he’d become—a small-town doc who knew his patients by their first names.

“Well, all I can say is—”

“Shouldn’t we at least pretend we’re doing something about the van?” Spence interrupted.

“—don’t give up.” Jordan turned and opened the sliding door on the van, then climbed in. “Let’s move this seat.”

“Easy for you to say,” Spence snarled, about not giving up. He grabbed his end of the bench seat. “If she kicks snow in my face one more time—” He broke off. His rear molars ground together. “I don’t need this kind of rejection. There are plenty of willing females in the world.”

“But you want Thea.”

“God help me, I do.”




Chapter Two


The seat removed and reinstalled, Spence backed away and Jordan got out, sliding shut the door behind him as another vehicle chugged into the parking area and yet another one approached on the access road.

A tall, angular man unfolded from behind the steering wheel of a conservative black station wagon. His unsmiling face marked with a prominent, hawkish nose reminded Spence of the early Puritans. This impression was confirmed by the clerical collar encircling the man’s skinny neck.

As Spence and Jordan approached, he introduced himself. “Reverend Joshua Handy. Which of you is Gregory Rosemont?”

“Neither.” Spence made the introductions.

The reverend appeared impatient. “Jenny told me I’d have a chance to talk with Gregory before the ceremony.”

“You’ve never met him?” Spence asked.

“No.” He looked down his long nose. “Where’s Jenny?”

“Not here,” Spence said. “Not even her car. I’m guessing she and Rosemont have some kind of chauffeur service up to the gondola. They’re probably both already up at the castle. Need any help with your luggage?”

Joshua Handy shook his head, and turned back to his hearse-like station wagon. “I’ll manage.”

Tempted to walk back up the frozen slope and insert himself into the chat Emily and Thea were having, Spence let himself be dragged along with Jordan as the other car pulled into a space near to their own. A tiny dynamo of a woman exited her car. She was overly bundled up for her drive in a puffy parka and a scarf around her throat. Spikes of gray hair poked around the edges of a colorful Norwegian ski cap.

Her wizened features reminded Spence of a troll. Luckily, her beaming mitigated the harshness. “Hello! I’m Doctor Mona Nance.”

Spence shook her over-large mitten. “Medical doctor?”

“Psychologist,” she said.

Jordan shook her mitten in turn and smirked. “Well, Doctor Mona, you might be real busy this weekend.”

BREAKING OFF her conversation with Emily, Thea went back inside the stone gondola house. She carefully kept her distance from Spence as the other guests arrived—Travis the hotshot, Dr. Mona Nance and a dour minister who looked as though he was more prepared for a funeral than a wedding. An unusual group! No one but she and Spence seemed to know each other. She glanced at her wristwatch. It was thirteen minutes past the time designated to depart from the gondola house for the ride to Castle in the Clouds. She thought the wedding party was beginning to show signs of restlessness.

Impatient, Travis repeatedly jabbed the buttons on a cell phone he plucked out of a pocket, trying to reach the castle. He finally snapped the thing closed. “Well, this is a total bummer. I’m not getting through. What’s the deal?”

Thea wondered if it was really possible Travis had never had that result in the mountains before.

The Reverend Joshua Handy, meanwhile, was eyeing the gondola machinery that made her nervous too. With long, skeletal fingers, he touched the cogs. “It might be best to take things into our own hands.”

A brilliant example of good old Yankee ingenuity? Thea shivered. “What do you mean?”

“Perhaps we’re expected to start this thing ourselves.”

“I think not.” She was nervous enough about riding in the gondola without adding reckless incompetence to the mix.

“We should wait,” Dr. Mona Nance counseled. “I’m sure we’ll receive instructions.”

“Don’t need a lesson book,” Travis said. “You just yank the lever. Like turning on a light bulb. You get it, Doctor Shrink?”

The wizened little psychologist stepped in front of him. Her small face turned up. Her head tilted back. “Because of my stature, I find that term particularly offensive.”

“Shrink?”

“Precisely.”

The tone of her voice held such authority that even an insensitive oaf like Travis was cowed. “Sorry, ma’am.”

Backing off, he and the reverend discussed the possibility of starting the gondola, and Thea’s gaze slipped toward Spence. Long legs stretched out in front of him, he sat on one of the stone benches beside his two friends, Emily and Jordan.

A nice couple, Thea thought, who seemed utterly loyal to Spence. Emily just glowed talking about him, expounding for Thea on what a wonderful doctor he was, brilliant, thoughtful, reverent, not to mention an expert in search-and-rescue who had saved countless lives. Thea thought the lives he had saved probably could be counted, but she wasn’t surprised. She’d never doubted Spence’s competence.

Still, she found it somewhat hard to believe that he’d reined in his world-conquering ambitions and settled for working in a small town. Was it possible that he had changed? That he’d become even a little less arrogant and self-involved?

She tried, on the sly, to assess the differences wrought in five years. His features had become more chiseled with strong jawline and high cheekbones. Fine lines crisscrossed his forehead and radiated from the corners of his breathtaking blue eyes. She wished she could see below the surface, to know if the changes in Spence ran more than skin deep.

Dr. Mona approached and perched on the bench beside Thea. The psychologist’s tiny little legs were so short that her feet didn’t touch the stone floor. “How do you know Jenny?” she asked pleasantly.

“We work together at the middle school. I teach English and American History.”

“Sixth, seventh and eighth graders,” Dr. Mona said. “A difficult age. I’m always curious. How do you handle classroom discipline with that age group?”

“Like a lion tamer. With a whip and a chair,” Thea joked. She felt Spence’s attention on her. “On good days, I enjoy the challenge.”

“And on bad days?”

“It’s a struggle,” she admitted. “What about you, Doctor? Are you a friend of Jenny’s family?”

“Actually, Jenny is my client,” Dr. Mona said. “I know her quite well.”

Though Thea hadn’t known her friend was in therapy, it wasn’t exactly a revelation. Teaching in an inner-city middle school made for a fairly high-stress occupation, especially after Columbine. It had been in the press recently that teachers in the Denver area suffered significantly more from stress than the already high levels documented nationwide.

Very likely, Thea thought, Jenny had discussed her fiancé with her therapist as well. Dr. Mona’s professional opinion would be very interesting. “What do you make of Gregory Rosemont?”

“Mysterious, isn’t he?” Doctor Mona commented noncommittally.

“Very. What concerns me, though,” Thea admitted, “is that Jenny thinks he’ll come out of his shell after they’re married. You know, become more sociable.” Thea paused. “Do you think that’s possible?”

“I believe people can change or modify their behavior.” Her cheeks rounded as she grinned. “Otherwise, my work is a sham.”

Thea glanced toward Spence. “What does it take to change?”

“Most of all,” Dr. Mona said, “a willingness.” She patted Thea’s knee, and resorted to every therapist’s escape hatch. “What do you think, dear?”

Straying from Jenny’s issues with Gregory Rosemont, Thea thought that even if Spence had changed, she wasn’t sure she could forgive him. Five years ago, he had shredded her self-esteem and handed it back to her like so much confetti on a silver platter.

“Somebody’s coming,” Travis announced as he flung open the door of the gondola house and charged into the snow.

The others straggled outside behind him. During the few minutes they’d been in the gondola house, the storm clouds had thickened. A bitter chill shimmered in the air.

A stocky, middle-aged man huffed and puffed his way up the path toward the gondola house.

“Hey, dude,” Travis bellowed, “you’re late if you’re here to take us up to the castle.”

The man paused, red-faced from his exertions. Before he spoke, he planted both feet and corrected his posture. His shoulders squared beneath his black parka. He assumed an attitude of dignity. “Please accept my apologies for the delay.”

The ruddy man carefully removed his knit cap and smoothed the thinning strands of his black hair. “I am the Rosemont butler. My name is Lawrence. May I suggest that before we proceed with further introductions, we step inside?”

Back inside the gondola house, Thea found herself standing beside Spence. If she made a point of moving away, he might think she feared contact. Did she? Was she afraid of him? Quickly, she polled her emotions. First and foremost, she felt antsy. Nervous to be around him. Angry that he looked so fine. More angry that the simmering rage over what he’d done to her five years ago, rage she’d been certain would not cool no matter what, seemed to have cooled in spite of her.

No matter, she assured herself, distracted by Travis’s whining, she would never forgive Spence, even if…or when the old rage turned stone-cold.

“May I have your attention,” Lawrence said. He pulled out a cell phone. “Anyone else got one of these?”

Everyone nodded, even wizened little Doctor Mona.

“How about computers? Any palm-tops? Laptops?”

The Reverend Joshua Handy bleated. “Is there a point to all this? I need my computer—”

“Sorry,” Lawrence interrupted, “but before we make the ascent to Castle in the Clouds, Mr. Rosemont has requested that all computers, pagers, cell phones and other electronic devices be left behind.”

“Why?” Spence demanded.

“The heating and electrical systems in the castle are run by highly sophisticated electronics which might be severely disrupted by interference.” He shrugged as if to make light of the need to divest. “You’ll find there is no cellular service available in any case.”

“No way,” Travis protested, though he’d already proved what Lawrence said was true, trying to dial up the castle. “I need to be in contact with my people.”

Lawrence replied, “There are, of course, computers and telephones in the castle which will be available for your use.”

“I don’t like it,” Travis said.

“Terribly sorry, but I must insist.” Lawrence had caught his breath. He strutted toward the corner of the room and stood beside the large metal safe. “I’m certain you will all be pleasantly enough occupied for the weekend and by the wedding that you won’t even miss your own devices. Please do give me all electronic items, and I will secure them here for you to retrieve when you leave the castle.”

Grumbling, the wedding guests divested themselves of pocket planners and cell phones. The reverend even unzipped his suitcase and gave up the laptop he had brought along.

Thea stepped back beside Emily and Jordan. “Seems weird,” she said.

Emily looked to her new husband, “You’re the computer genius. What do you think?”

“I doubt a cell phone could mess up Rosemont’s electronics, but you never know.”

“What about the computer thing?” Thea asked.

“Paranoia,” Jordan said. “A guy like Rosemont might think one of you is a spy, planning to download his programs.”

A spy? Paranoia? Seeds of foreboding took root in Thea’s fertile imagination. She’d known that Rosemont was eccentric, but locking up the cell phones seemed obsessive. “What happens if the phones in the house break down?”

“Unlikely.” Dr. Mona was beside her once again. “Rosemont’s attention to detail seems to border on the compulsive. He’ll have back-up systems for his backups.”

The tiny psychologist seemed almost pleased by this turn of events. Thea had the idea that Dr. Mona viewed this wedding as a research project on aberrant neuroses. Speaking of which…

Thea glanced toward the fiberglass gondola car. The moment of departure was rapidly approaching, and she wasn’t looking forward to traveling, suspended by a thin steel cable above a thousand-foot plummet into the forbidding, nearly arctic landscape. Surely, that was an exaggeration. The chasm wasn’t a thousand feet. Nor was the cable excessively slender. Did it matter? If they fell, the crash would certainly be fatal.

“Nervous?” Emily asked.

“I don’t like heights.” With a glance at Dr. Mona, Thea hurriedly added, “I’m not acrophobic.” But even though she could ride the chair lift to go skiing, as she carefully explained to Dr. Mona, Thea knew she was not telling the truth. “It makes me a little tense.”

Spence joined them. “It’s okay, Thea.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She hadn’t meant to snap, but she didn’t want to appear weak in front of him. “I’m not scared.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“I know.” To prove her courage, she grabbed her suitcase and the garment bag and went to stand, first in line, to board the gondola car.

As soon as the soles of her boots touched the skid-proof flooring, her knees turned to rubber. There were windows all around the ten-person car, which seemed much like a minibus, except that it would be suspended in mid-air.

“Hurry up,” Travis called out.

Concentrating with all her might, Thea stumbled to one of the bench seats and collapsed. The molded plastic seat was so slick that she might have slid onto the floor if her muscles hadn’t suddenly tensed. She shuddered into a full-body spasm. The ratcheting noise of the machinery deafened her. Was this thing safe? When was the last inspection?

Thea clutched the garment bag against her body. She was probably wrinkling the frothy bridesmaid dress, but she didn’t care. Through blurred vision, she sensed Spence’s approach. If he made a snotty comment, she’d kill him.

He sat beside her. “Can I hold the garment bag for you?”

“No.” If they fell, she could use the dress as a parachute.

“Is everyone ready?” Lawrence asked.

Her lips pinched together, fighting the urge to scream. What if they fell? Whether it was a thousand feet or five hundred or five thousand, what did it matter? These might be the last people she ever saw in her whole life. The thunder of her heartbeat would be the last sound she ever—

They swooped away from the stone house, suspended from a thread and climbing. Don’t look down!

But she didn’t even have to look down. An awful sensation, of the earth dropping away, her stomach falling, her heart racing, rushed over her. Frantically groping, Thea clutched Spence’s hand.

And before she knew what she was doing, her face was buried against his shoulder. This was wrong, all wrong. And yet, in her heart, she knew if Spence hadn’t been beside her, she’d have found herself in the throes of a full-blown panic attack.

In her heart, she wondered what Spence had to do with it.

JORDAN AND EMILY stood beside the stone house, waving at the gondola as it climbed slowly across the precipitous chasm toward the castle which was entirely hidden by dark January clouds. Jordan pulled Emily closer, protecting her from a chill that wasn’t entirely due to the weather.

“There’s something about this wedding,” he said, “that makes me uneasy.”

“Leaving the cell phones behind seemed odd. And why was the butler late?” She shrugged. “Maybe we’re the ones who are paranoid, imagining a threat at every turn.”

After the fugitive hunt that had brought them together, Jordan wouldn’t be surprised if he and Emily were overly sensitive to danger. Especially when Spence was involved. If it hadn’t been for the good doctor’s help, Jordan would probably be in jail on death row. “Spence will be okay.”

She frowned. “I’m sure you’re right. I hope things work out for him and Thea. I liked her.”

“Me, too.” Jordan turned away from the gondola. “Let’s go.”

She dug the toe of her boot into the snow, scanning the dark, threatening skies. “You’re right. We should try to beat the storm back to Cascadia.”

He nodded. Jordan hated the snow, but he loved sitting in front of a roaring fire with his beautiful new wife.

Emily tracked the progress of the gondola car moving through space toward the Castle in the Clouds. “Did you notice how scared Thea was to get on that thing?”

Jordan shrugged. “Some people are. What’s really worrying you? If there’s a problem, Spence will call.”

“And then what? Take a look at that place. It’s a search-and-rescue nightmare. Jagged cliffs on every side. The only way out in an emergency would be helicopter rescue.”

“Hold on,” he said, teasing her gently. “Earlier, you said the castle reminded you of princesses and jousts.”

Emily shivered hard in the blistering cold. “That was before I remembered that dragons also live in castles.”

THE SLOWLY ASCENDING gondola car shuddered in the swirling mountain winds, but Spence was unconcerned about the surrounding glacial landscape. The scope of his universe had shrunk to a bell jar. Starting with the moment Thea’s forehead touched his shoulder, his consciousness focused entirely upon her. He actually enjoyed the feel of her slender fingers clutching his hand in a white-knuckled death grip of terror. Her fear of heights—something he had never suspected in her—had worked to his advantage.

Spence held himself very still, not wanting to disturb this moment. He knew better than to whisper reassurances that she might take as condescension. Nor did he reach across her body to fully embrace her. His job was simply to be there for her, solid as a rock, trustworthy. Sooner or later, she’d wake up and realize that he was basically a good guy.

Maybe it would be sooner. After all, she’d instinctively turned to him when she was scared, which might mean that on a visceral, almost cellular level, she still trusted him. Or it might mean nothing more than that she would’ve grabbed anybody sitting beside her in the gondola car. Spence didn’t care. He was grateful for this hint of their former intimacy. Careful not to disturb her, he inhaled the clean fragrance of her soft chestnut-brown hair. Through the layers of their parkas and turtlenecks, he felt the subtle outline of her slender body.

In a strangled whisper, she asked, “How much farther?”

“Ten minutes.”

He wanted to tell her it wasn’t so bad, but he was feeling a little queasy himself. Like a giant yo-yo, deprived of gravity’s solace, the gondola bounced in space, hundreds of feet above towering ice splinters. In this hostile environment, the tall conifers marched up the mountainside like a snow-encrusted army guarding the Castle in the Clouds.

At the front of the gondola, Lawrence the butler stood before a simple control panel. The reverend and Dr. Mona were seated, staring and mesmerized by the spectacular view. Only Travis was in motion, ducking down to peer from the windows on one side, then the other.

“Hey, Larry,” Travis said, “how did this castle get built, anyway?”

“I prefer to be called Lawrence,” the butler said.

“Okay, Lawrence,” Travis drawled. “How’d they build this place?”

“I assume you are referring to the apparent impossibility of transporting building materials to such an extremely isolated location.”

“Well, yeah,” Travis muttered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

With a shrug of his round shoulders, Lawrence explained, “The opposite wall of this peak was a marble quarry. In the late 1800s, some of the finest marble in the world was quarried here, then cut and polished by artisans who came from Italy. A narrow-gauge railroad transported the stones which were used in monuments throughout North America.”

“So?” Travis said. “Are you saying that the rear approach to the castle isn’t so steep?”

“Quite the contrary.” Lawrence continued, “In seeking the most excellent veins of marble, the walls were literally shaved back into steep cliffs.”

“Interesting,” Dr. Mona said. “The castle appears to be the domain of someone seeking total isolation, but that wasn’t the case.”

“Not at all,” Lawrence said. “Though the first owner was known to be a cutthroat entrepreneur, he built this castle to please his wife, a proper Bostonian lady who insisted that the quarry be shut down on Sunday, the day of rest.”

The reverend murmured his approval.

Lawrence added, “There’s a chapel in the castle.”

Spence felt Thea’s grip on his hand begin to relax as she listened to the history of the Castle in the Clouds. Though he was glad her fear had begun to abate, he hoped she wouldn’t pull away from him. He wanted the connection with her, no matter how tenuous.

“And yet,” Lawrence said, “no one would mistake the castle for a cathedral. The bridal suite—which you can see from here—at the top of the north tower where the light is lit, features some rather decadent statuary.”

The stern-faced reverend inhaled a disapproving sniff through his long red nose. “The castle’s isolation is an appropriate homily.” As if pronouncing the locale an indictment against an ill-fated wedding and a groom he had yet to meet, Joshua Hardy intoned, “It was greed that caused them to chisel away at the wall of the mountain, leaving themselves stranded and alone.”




Chapter Three


“Dude,” Travis shuddered, “that sounds like a sermon.”

“That would be the definition of a homily,” the reverend said curtly. “An example to edify the flock.”

“Sheep?”

“Listen here, Mr. Trevain.” The reverend pointed a warning with his skeletal index finger. “I don’t appreciate your attitude. I’m here at the request of your sister to bless the holy sacrament of her marriage, and I will not be taunted.”

Travis rolled his eyes and flung himself down onto a seat, sending a tremor through the gondola car.

Thea gasped and burrowed more deeply against Spence’s shoulder. For her benefit he asked, “Lawrence, is this gondola safe?”

“Yes, indeed. The cable is tested to hold two thousand, two hundred pounds.”

“So we have nothing to worry about.”

Lawrence swiveled his bald head toward Spence and frowned. “I suppose the machinery could stall.”

Not a pleasant image. Spence sure as hell didn’t want to be left dangling between two precipices. From his search-and-rescue training, he supposed they’d have to be removed from the car via helicopter in a dangerous, complex procedure involving harnesses. “The stalling thing? Has that ever happened before?”

“Not that I know of,” Lawrence said. “But I haven’t been in Mr. Rosemont’s employ for very long.”

“And you probably won’t be working for him long,” Travis said sulkily.

“I beg your pardon?” Lawrence glared at Travis like an owl sizing up a canary. His tone implied more threat than apology, which seemed uncharacteristic for a butler whose primary duty was proper protocol and tact. Spence glimpsed the black leather of a shoulder holster beneath Lawrence’s parka. The butler was armed. Why? What did he expect to find at the castle?

Lawrence turned back to his controls, and they jostled higher and higher in silence. An unmistakable air of tension crackled through the gondola car. Only the diminutive psychologist, Dr. Mona, seemed immune. “I’d like to hear more about the castle’s history,” she said. “What happened to the quarry?”

“In the 1920s, a fire destroyed the workers’ town,” Lawrence recited as if he’d memorized the pertinent data. “Then there was a disastrous flood that wiped out much of the quarry operation and the roads. The original owner and his wife moved back east. The narrow-gauge tracks were hauled away as scrap metal during the war. It wasn’t until the 1960s that the castle had a full-time occupant. He added the gondola which—I hasten to assure you—has been scrupulously maintained.”

As if on cue, they took a sudden jolt. Once again, Thea tensed.

Quietly, Spence said to her, “We’re almost there. Only a few more minutes.”

The castle disappeared from view behind the trees. They neared the summit and a gondola house which appeared to be an exact match for the one they’d left behind on the opposite slope. As the fiberglass car ratcheted forward and docked with a thud, the stone walls of the gondola house closed around them, protecting them from the fierce winds and threat of snow.

“Made it,” Spence said.

Thea yanked her hand away from his and bolted for the exit. Single-minded, she pressed her fingertips against the glass. As soon as Lawrence had the sliding door open, Thea leapt through. For a moment, Spence thought she was going to kiss the wooden planks of the floor beside the gondola car. But Thea had already begun to recover her poise. She inhaled huge gulps of the thin mountain air. Fighting the shudders that vibrated her shoulders, she denied her panic. Her voice quavered as she announced to the others, “That wasn’t so bad.”

Through the gondola window, Spence saw Dr. Mona pat Thea’s forearm. “You did very well,” the doctor said. “It’s important to face your fears.”

“Fears?” Thea laughed semi-hysterically. “No fear. That’s what my kids say at school. No fear.”

Spence tucked his own suitcase under his arm and gathered up Thea’s luggage before exiting the gondola behind Reverend Josh and Travis. Silently, Spence wondered what other fears the weekend might hold in store for them.

As soon as he stepped outside the gondola, Thea grabbed the garment bag. “I’ll take that.” Her tone was overly bright. Her smile too wide. “I wouldn’t want anything to happen to the bridesmaid dress.”

He nodded. Though he didn’t want to throw her back into terror, he already missed the closeness of her clinging to him for support.

“By the way,” she said, “thanks.”

“For what?”

Her eyes roamed wildly, showing too much white and avoiding his gaze. “I didn’t mean to grab you.”

“It’s okay. I liked it.”

She stiffened. Staring directly at him, she snapped, “Are you saying that you enjoyed the fact that I was scared out of my skull?”

“I was glad you trusted me enough to hold my hand.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. It was only a reflex.”

As soon as she spoke, Thea realized how ungracious her comment sounded. She didn’t want to pick a fight with Spence. This was a wedding, supposedly a pleasant occasion, and she was well-prepared to stifle her own emotions rather than ruin the weekend for Jenny and her reclusive bridegroom.

Forcing what she hoped was a polite smile, Thea added, “But thanks anyway.”

“You’re welcome.”

Sometime during this weekend—sometime soon—she had to set down ground rules of behavior with Spence. The best solution was probably to ignore each other as much as possible. But how would she manage that? How could she ignore someone who was so solid and sexy and outrageously masculine?

When she’d clung to him like a drowning woman hanging on a buoy, a sneaky awareness had crept through her panic. She’d felt the strength in his grasp. Leaning against his shoulder wakened unwanted memories of previous intimacy.

She was saved from further contemplation by a loud “harrumph” from Lawrence who stood at the door to the gondola house trying to get an answer from the house on an intercom or radio of some sort. Obviously annoyed, he informed them, “There seems to be an unfortunate miscommunication. No one answers at the castle.”

“Well that’s just hunky-dory,” Travis snapped. “What do we do now?”

Frowning, Lawrence said, “I had expected to be met by a full contingent of staff, including a porter, but no one appears to be responding to our arrival. Ladies and gentlemen, would you mind carrying your own luggage?”

“No problem,” Thea said. Travis put on a sulk, but as her tension faded, she was actually glad for something physical and taxing to do. Whatever urge had compelled her to clamp onto Spence was past.

She fell into the single-file line as they hiked up a snow-packed, sanded path winding through the trees. Thea was next to last, and Spence brought up the rear. She could hear his footfalls behind her. She was aware of his measured breathing. He must be in good shape; he wasn’t huffing at all on this steep incline.

Of course, he’d be in excellent physical condition. She reminded herself that Spence Cannon was, perhaps, the most self-centered man on the planet. He would take care of himself.

The trees thinned. Suddenly, the castle came into full view. Magnificent! Thea halted and stared up at the walls of chiseled granite blocks that formed nooks and shadowed crannies, dark and mysterious as the storm clouds overhead. Nearest the path was a sculpted octagonal tower. The arched windows on the top story of the tower were lit from inside.

“That’s got to be the bridal suite,” Spence said. “The room with the sexy statues.”

“Jenny must be up there.” But why hadn’t she come down to greet them? Thea shook off a prickly sense of apprehension. More than likely, Jenny hadn’t heard their arrival. Or she was busy with her trousseau. After all, she’d pulled this wedding together in a matter of weeks. There must be dozens of last-minute details. “I should’ve come up here earlier to help her. It’s my job as a maid of honor.”

“I’m sure Jenny has everything under control,” Dr. Mona offered, showing no sign of exertion either. “She’s quite a capable young woman.”

“But look at this place! It’s huge. How could anybody manage?”

“With a staff of servants, dear,” Dr. Mona advised, tongue-in-cheek.

But surely, even with maids and a cook, the responsibility of taking care of a castle was daunting. It was so large that Thea couldn’t even clearly see the matching tower on the far end. The center section rose four stories high with a peaked Tudor-style roof above a stone Gothic entranceway. The mismatched architectural theme also included castellated battlements to mark the parapets and a minaret-style gatekeeper’s house by the front doorway. Some of the windows were arched, others were square. The mishmash of designs might have come from flipping through a Lifestyles of the Eccentric Rich and Famous catalog and choosing something from each page. “I wonder if the original structure was added to.”

“It seems likely,” Dr. Mona said. “Parts of it look Romanesque. Others are definitely Tudor.”

“I don’t care for the gargoyles,” the reverend said.

There was no chance to question Lawrence about the design. He was far ahead, chugging steadily up the hill toward an entrance behind the octagonal tower. Travis stayed close behind him, apparently unimpressed by his first up-close-and-personal view of the castle.

As they came closer to the entrance, the outdoor lights blazed to life, illuminating the stone walls.

“Wow!” Spotlights shining up from the ground gave the illusion that the massive structure was magically floating above the snow-covered cliffs.

“Must be somebody home,” Spence said, “to turn on the lights.”

“Of course,” Thea said. Yet, an aura of stillness clung to the granite walls as if the castle were an empty stage waiting for the players to enter and speak their lines.

Lawrence unlocked and opened a humble door beside a loading dock, and Travis bellowed, “Jenny! Get your booty down here, sis!”

Her booty? Thea forced a grin, trying to be tolerant. The slangy attitude of Jenny’s brother reminded her of her eighth-grade students. Though Travis had to be in his late twenties, he seemed like a kid—irresponsible and not a little bit wild.

Thea hiked the last steps to the side entrance and stepped inside a long coatroom with no windows. At the far end a ski rack housed several pairs of skis and boots in a various sizes. Along the adjoining paneled wall, wooden pegs served as hooks between several closet doors. There were even lockers. It all seemed odd to her, like a chalet at some ski resort.

Through an open door, she heard Lawrence exclaiming, “Utterly unacceptable!”

Thea, Spence, Mona and the reverend dropped their luggage and went toward the sound of Lawrence’s voice into a huge kitchen. Stainless-steel appliances shone amidst an array of marble countertops and butcher blocks. A giant hanging rack displayed copper pots and kettles. Though Thea wasn’t much of a cook, the kitchen impressed her.

“No one is here.” Lawrence emphatically stated the obvious. “No chef. No waitpersons. No one.”

Mona pulled open the door to a double-wide refrigerator which was packed with food. “At least there seems to be ample provisions.”

Disdainfully, Lawrence sneered, “I certainly hope I won’t be expected to prepare the meals.”

“Where’s Travis?” Spence asked.

Lawrence pointed toward a door at the far corner of the kitchen. “That’s the servants’ stairwell up to the bridal suite. He went to look for Jenny.”

“I think I’ll join them,” Thea said. She really couldn’t wait to see Jenny, and it seemed like the next logical thing to do. “I’m sure Jenny can tell us where the rest of the staff is hiding.”

Without invitation, Spence followed her into a narrow wooden stairwell that ascended in a sharp zigzag pattern. Every few feet, a single bare lightbulb, attached to the wall and encased in a wire cage, cast their shadows against stone and mortar walls.

“Watch your step,” Spence advised. “These stairs are worn unevenly.”

“Apparently,” she said, trying to focus her attentions elsewhere, and not on the fact that she was quite alone with Spence, “the lord of the castle didn’t believe in spending much money on servants.”

He looked upward. “I don’t see how they carried trays up this staircase.”

“Dumbwaiter,” she said. Her voice echoed in the vertical passageway. “There has to be a dumbwaiter.”

Their conversation seemed innocent enough, but Thea felt a growing sense of apprehension partially caused by her sudden seclusion with Spence and partially because Jenny’s failure to appear felt ominous.

“I can’t imagine Jenny wasn’t waiting for us. She knew when we’d be gathered below, when we’d get here. Do you think there’s something wrong? Something…” she hesitated without warning on the stair and swallowed hard. “I don’t know…not quite right about all this?”

Spence had to step back down to avoid overtaking her. “Travis must have found his sister, don’t you think? Otherwise, he’d be yelling his head off.”

Thea straightened. “I’m sure you’re right.” She was worrying needlessly, still trembling with aftershocks from her panic attack in the gondola car.

They paused on a small landing outside a closed door.

“This is only the second floor,” Spence said. “I think we need to go one higher.”

Enclosed by solid stone walls, they were completely isolated from the others. Spence was surely right that Travis had found Jenny, and there wasn’t going to be a better time than this for a private conversation.

She faced Spence. Until now, she hadn’t noticed that he’d shed his parka. His teal-blue turtleneck emphasized the blue in his eyes and outlined the breadth of his shoulders. “Spence, we need to talk.”

Even in the dim light, she saw his frown. Like most men, Spence had never been fond of relationship discussions—not that they had a relationship anymore. She opened her mouth and took a bite out of the silence. “This is probably the most important weekend of Jenny’s life—”

“Agreed,” he said. His eyes bore into hers.

Her chin went up. “I don’t want to do anything to make it unpleasant for her.”

“Of course not. So?”

“So, you and I need to set some boundaries with each other.”

“Such as?”

“Let’s start with the basic premise that I’m not prepared to forgive and forget, Spence. There is absolutely no way we’ll ever again be involved. Not ever.” Though she’d kept her voice quiet, a resonating echo stirred the air, underscoring the finality of her words. “Is that understood?”

“I understand. Perfectly,” he added. “I just don’t believe you.”

She scowled. “Do you think I can’t resist you?”

“No,” he responded quickly. “But I don’t accept the concept of ‘never.’ It’s simple biology, Thea. All living things are constantly changing, transforming. We get better or we get worse, but we seldom stay the same.”

If he’d been anyone else, she would have applauded his observation. As a teacher of adolescents, she had to believe in the potential of human development. But the man who stood before her wasn’t one of her difficult students. He was her former fiancé, the individual who had humiliated her and single-handedly shattered important professional goals. Vital goals. She drew on a vast reservoir of bitterness for lost opportunities before speaking. “Trust me, Spence. My attitude toward you is rock-solid, and—”

“But,” he interrupted, “in an hour, you might feel different.”

“Differently.”

“Yes.” As if she had agreed she might, he nodded.

She wanted to stamp her foot. She crossed her arms over her breasts. “I’m serious, Spence.”

He planted a hand on the stone-and-mortar wall high above her. “I know you are, Thea.”

“I’m not going to debate life science with you—”

“That’s a start.”

“—or philosophy or anything else. In fact—”

He gave her a lazy grin.

“Will you stop it, Spence!” This discussion wasn’t going the way she’d hoped. He was so near to her in this cold vault of a stone staircase that she could feel his heat. She tossed her chin-length bob and tried another tactic. “Let’s just agree on two things. We won’t squabble. And there will be no unnecessary touching. No kissing. Nothing.”

“Well, that’s hardly fair, Thea, after you spent the gondola ride groping me. You know—”

“I was not groping! I—”

“Okay, grabbing.” The corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile. His arrogance was devastating. “Okay,” he relented, “call it holding on. I just think I ought to have the chance to return that favor.”

His blue eyes warmed as he gazed confidently into her face, and she felt herself responding involuntarily, wanting to smile back at him. For an instant, she was tempted to open her arms wide and invite him to come closer. But no! Common sense prevailed. “Don’t even think about it, Spence.”

“I’ve got a few conditions of my own,” he said.

“So long as we don’t squabble and you—”

“Number one—we stay in the present and not dwell on the past.”

She gave him a look. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do. I can see the wheels turning in that sweet, stubborn little head of yours, dredging up every unhappy memory, every accusation we ever threw at each other, every—”

“All right,” she cut him off. “We’ll stick to the present.” Did he think that somehow altered her conditions?

“And not dwell in the past. That’s the important part, Thea.”

Grudgingly, she nodded. “Fair enough.”

“Number two—we both keep our minds open.”

Thea said, “I’ve never been close-minded. How could you even accuse me of—”

“Number three…”

He obliterated the distance between them in a single step. His unexpected approach threw her off-balance. The surrounding walls seemed to shrink tightly around her. She felt trapped as much by the intensity of her suppressed emotions as by him—but there should be no mistake. She was trapped in his arms.

When his hands glided around her shoulders, she should have pushed him away. Hadn’t he listened to a word she’d been saying?

She didn’t want him.

He revolted her.

But none of that, clearly, was true, because her arms went around him as if he hadn’t been gone all these years. Her fingers reveled in the feel of his hard muscles beneath the soft cotton of his turtleneck.

A part of her smirked. What was she doing? This was insanity. She’d forgotten all about her missing friend, and the conditions she had set out were being trampled. But her head tilted back and her objections died in her throat, vanishing into the thin musty air as she met his dazzling gaze. She realized that all she really wanted was the feel of Spence Cannon’s shoulders beneath her fingers.

She wanted the taste of his lips against hers.

Reading her mind from long experience, Spence complied. The hard pressure of his mouth satisfied a longing she’d fought to deny and then to ignore when her denial mechanisms failed her.

Her heartbeat quickened. An all-consuming passion exploded in the very core of her being, heightening numbed sensation to a tantalizing, trembling, voracious desire.

More.

She wanted more. She wanted a hundred more kisses. She wanted to touch his body, his bare-naked flesh. And more than that! She yearned for his caresses, the feel of his hands on her breasts, her thighs, she wanted his lips, the touch of his tongue to the dimples in the small of her back.

In a distant corner of her mind, the part that smirked, Thea knew she was dangerously close to making a big mistake, opening herself to all sorts of emotional pain. Sex with Spence, desire, had never been an issue, never a problem—except that it was so good, so desperately good that it had overwhelmed real problems for too long.

Against the aching thrill of his hand caressing her breast beneath her parka and the heat of his breath on her neck, she knew she had to stop him. Had to stifle her own sensual impulses before they destroyed her. There was a reason she’d asked him not to touch her. When he touched her, she lost track of the fact that he didn’t respect her at all, or at least he hadn’t—and his behavior in every other way had proved it, if only she’d been looking.

With the shred of willpower left her, she tore herself away from him.

He didn’t force her to stay in his embrace. Nor had he forced the kiss. Thea had had ample time to object, and she hadn’t warned him away. She’d asked him not to touch her, but when he came near enough, she’d allowed it. Craved it. And she really couldn’t blame him for her own lapse in good judgment. He had offered, and she had wantonly and unwisely accepted.

In a ragged voice, she vowed, “That can’t happen again.”

“Thea—”

But his impassioned plea, whatever he had been going to say, was interrupted from the top of the narrow staircase by a shout. It was Travis, calling his sister’s name. “Jenny! What’s the hap, woman? Where are you?”

Thea spun away from Spence and flew up through the stairwell on shaky legs. There was no handrail and she braced herself against the rough stones and crumbling mortar.

Standing at the door leading to the third floor, Thea gathered her composure, taking steady breaths to calm the ridiculous fluttering in her chest. She tore off her parka, hoping to ease the intense heat that flushed her body.

The third-floor landing was lit by wall sconces and a high chandelier. In contrast to the dank gloom of the servant’s staircase, the decor was bright and clean with white-on-beige wallpaper above polished wood wainscoting. An octagonal Persian-style rug covered the wood floor. Travis—in his red and yellow ski clothes—looked too modern and out-of-place.

“Jenny’s not here,” he said gesturing to the three wide-open doors as if Thea were responsible. “I looked everywhere.”

Thea headed toward the center doors as Spence came up behind her. “Is this the bridal suite?”

“Don’t you believe me? Didn’t I just say, she’s not here? Didn’t I just—”

“Travis, calm down, okay? This is a very large castle.” She felt like she was talking to one of her obstreperous students. She was struck, somehow, in this lighting, by Travis’s unruly platinum-hued hair, and the fact that his brows were so dark by comparison. He’d bleached his hair, bowing to some ultra-hip image of himself as king-of-the-world ski racer. Hip probably wasn’t even the right word. But he was still Jenny’s baby brother, and he was probably very upset not to have found her. “Jenny’s here somewhere, Travis. She’s got to be. Don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll find her.”

“But this was the only room where the lights were on,” he said.

“That’s true,” Thea said. “But someone also had to turn on the outside lights when we approached.”

“Not necessarily.” Spence said. “The lights could be on a timer. More likely, they’re motion sensitive.”

She cut Spence a look. The thought had occurred to her as well, but to keep Travis under wraps she’d been trying to take a positive outlook on the situation. But maybe more than to reassure Travis, she needed to quiet her own forebodings.

Didn’t she have enough worries after that earth-shaking kiss on the staircase?

“Let’s take another look around. Maybe Jenny left a note or a trail of bread crumbs or something.”

“Yeah, maybe she and Rosemont are getting it—”

“Maybe,” Thea cut him off, “Jenny and Rosemont are off watching a movie in some fantastic entertainment room with a sound system so wonderful that they haven’t heard us troop in.”

“Freaky Pollyanna,” Travis muttered, but the suggestion of something that cool looked like it might occupy his nearly vacant head for a while.

Thea opened the doors to the bridal suite. It was everything Lawrence had promised and more—a fantasy in pinks, reds and ripe purples that would almost certainly mortify the puritanical sensibilities of Reverend Joshua Handy. Thea’s gaze came to rest on a life-sized incandescent marble sculpture of lovers so entwined it looked as if they had come straight out of the pages of the Kama Sutra.

Several smaller versions of couplings and threesomes stood scattered about. Spooky, unseeing marble eyes leered or rolled back in expressions of stone ecstasy.

Beneath the windows was an opulent pink-veined marble bathtub with Jacuzzi jets. Opposite was the largest bed Thea had ever seen. This place was obviously a sex palace.

Thea could not imagine Jenny in this room. It went beyond opulent right straight to decadent, making her feel embarrassed with Spence so near and their kissing so recent. She swallowed hard. “Interesting.”

“Yeah,” Travis agreed. “I can’t believe my prissy-pants big sister would even walk in here, much less sleep in the same room with these dudes.”

“They’re not all dudes,” Spence observed wryly.

Travis opened the mirrored closet door. “But look. Here’s Jenny’s stuff.”

Ignoring the marble orgy, fending off her own growing alarm that Jenny wasn’t right here to show off the castle, Thea went to the walk-in closet. She recognized a few of Jenny’s blouses and sweaters. Centered on the rack, hanging all by itself, was a black silk garment bag. A bit of white lace was visible above the top of the zipper. The bridal gown!

Jenny had described her wedding dress in detail, but Thea hadn’t yet seen this handmade creation with satin, imported lace and real pearls embroidered on the sleeves. Surely, it wouldn’t hurt to take a quick peek.

She unzipped the bag and pulled apart each side to reveal the dress her friend had chosen for her fantasy wedding.

But a terrible gasp tore out of Thea’s throat. In the center of the bodice was the dark red stain of dried blood.




Chapter Four


Spence was a medical doctor, certified in search-and-rescue emergency medical procedures, and while he’d interned at Colorado University Medical Center in Denver, he’d spent months in the ER, where he repaired bone-deep gashes, probed for bullets and had once delivered twins. The sight of blood shouldn’t have affected him.

But when he saw the stain on Jenny’s wedding gown, and yanked the gown from the garment bag, his gut wrenched. The filmy white fabric burned in his hands.

From the moment he’d first seen the castle, he’d sensed something was wrong, and other things only kept piling on to confirm his instincts. The remote location. The butler’s shoulder holster. The bizarre request to leave behind all cell phones, which were useless anyway without cellular service in the area.

Then, not only the absence of staff and servants, but Jenny’s failure to appear at all. Spence couldn’t even excuse Rosemont, who might be expected to keep to himself were it not the weekend of his wedding.

Now this. The bloodstain on Jenny’s bridal gown caused all the vague threads to draw together, like blood fibrin congealing. They were all caught up and in danger—perhaps mortal danger.

What had happened to Jenny?

Both Thea and Travis looked toward him as if they expected Spence to have an answer, but there was no rational explanation. It didn’t take the training or standard operating procedures of the search-and-rescue unit to state the obvious. “We should call the police.”

“Right,” Thea said, her features drawn tight in anxiety for Jenny. She darted across the room and picked up the bedside telephone and stabbed out 911. But when she listened for an answer and apparently got no response, her alarm notched higher. She shook the receiver, tapped the plunger button. Her gaze darted frantically around the room, bouncing off the obscene marble statuary. She met his gaze with her eyes wide. “The phone’s dead.”

“What the hell is this scene?” Travis yelled. “If that bastard hurt my sister, I’ll kill him. Swear to God, I’ll tear his heart out with my bare—”

“That’s enough!” Spence commanded. “You won’t help Jenny by falling apart. We have to find your sister.”

Travis sank onto a plush purple chaise longue. Leaning forward, he ground the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. “It’s my fault. I should’ve taken better care of her.”

For the first time, his voice held a surprising ring of sincerity. Though Travis was a brash, self-centered jerk, he might actually care about his sister.

Spence hoped that was the case. If Rosemont turned out to be a bust, and it sure as hell was starting to look that way, Jenny was going to need her brother’s support.

But where was she? Was she all right? Spence looked down at the gown in his hands and inspected the dried bloodstain, which was the approximate size of a postcard but irregular in shape. There were splatters. The fabric had not been torn.

“This stain didn’t come from a wound.” He turned the bodice inside out. “You see? There’s no rip. And there’s less blood on the inside than the outside.”

“What does that mean?” Thea asked.

“Someone poured this blood onto the dress.”

“But why?”

“It might be a threat,” he surmised. “Maybe we were meant to find this dress.”

She took his idea one step farther. “If someone wanted us to find the dress, it means the threat is directed at us. The wedding party.”

“Bull.” Travis bolted from the chaise and got right up in her face. “This isn’t about you, babe. It’s all about my sister.”

“Back off,” Spence warned.

“You know what, dude?” Travis whirled and confronted him. “Who died and left you boss?” With a stiff index finger, he poked at Spence’s chest. “Why you? Huh?”

Lightning fast, Spence clamped the younger man’s wrist in a vise-like grip. “Could be because between us, I’m the grown-up.”

“Yeah, good old Spence. Manly man.” Through clenched teeth, Travis said, “You were at my old man’s funeral. Jenny said you were such a comfort. Said she couldn’t have made it without you. Well you know what? That should have been me.”

“You’re right.” Spence hadn’t usurped the job of comforting Jenny. She had no one else; her brother was absent, tucked away in a rehab center, hiding from his grief. “You should have been there, Travis.”

“You don’t know anything about me.” Travis wrenched away from him. Like a petulant, spoiled brat, he cradled his wrist.

Spence turned toward Thea. Moments ago, he’d held her in his arms. He’d kissed her. That idyllic interlude seemed far gone, erased by the intrusion of real threats. Of danger. “Let’s go downstairs and tell the others. We’ll search the castle and find Jenny and then we’re out of here.”

Thea was already on her way out the door. “Let’s go.”

Leaving the gown in the bridal suite, they descended the narrow staircase into the kitchen.

Lawrence sat on a high stool fiddling with some kind of hand-held electronic game. Dr. Mona had arranged fresh fruit in gleaming silver bowl and sat peeling apples and pears. “Did you find Jenny?” she enthused, then shrank into herself at Thea’s grim expression.

“No. We didn’t.”

While Spence outlined their discovery of the bloodstained dress and his plan to search the castle, he noticed the psychologist observing him closely with her bright black eyes. Occasionally, she nodded. Her expert opinion might be useful. “Mona, I’d like to hear what you think about all this.”

“Blood on the wedding gown,” she said. Her small, wizened face twisted in a frown. “Highly symbolic, isn’t it? Almost archetypal.”

“Psychobabble,” Travis said with a groan. “Can we get started with the search?”

Ignoring him, Spence said, “What else, Mona?”

“It’s a theatrical gesture, well-planned.” She scratched the back of her head, ruffling her short gray hair. “I’m reminded of those murder mystery weekends when several people gather to solve a fake crime.”

“Fake?” Spence could only pray that Dr. Mona was correct. “Are you suggesting this might be an elaborate joke?”

“I don’t know. I seriously doubt that Jenny would prepare such a complicated scenario—and why a murder mystery on the weekend of her wedding? To what purpose?”

“What about Rosemont?” Spence asked.

“I’ve never met Gregory Rosemont,” Mona said. “I suppose he might be enacting some unknown agenda and perhaps convinced Jenny to play along.”

“We’re wasting time,” Reverend Joshua intoned. “Much as I hate to agree with Travis, I believe we should begin our search without further delay.”

Spence turned toward the butler, who shut down his game and tucked it in the inside pocket of his jacket. “Lawrence, is there a floor plan of this place?”

“Not that I am aware of.”

As he stepped forward, Lawrence buttoned his black wool blazer. The jacket fitted so well that Spence hardly noticed the slight bulge of the shoulder holster. Lawrence had obviously taken the time to move the holster and weapon to wear it even indoors. The question arose again. Why was the so-called butler armed? “Come with me, Lawrence. I want to ask you about the lighting system.”

“Certainly.”

The butler followed Spence into the coatroom. Before Spence could close the door, Thea slipped through. She closed the door. “Excuse me,” she said. “I had a question for Lawrence.”

“Yes, ma’am?” He inclined his head toward her.

Deftly, she reached toward him, unfastened the button on his blazer and flipped it aside. “Why do you have a gun?”

Spence winced. Subtlety had never been one of Thea’s attributes.

“In addition to my duties as a butler,” Lawrence said, “I occasionally act as a bodyguard. I am licensed to carry a concealed weapon.”

“Is Rosemont expecting trouble?” Spence asked.

“He did not see fit to confide his suspicions,” Lawrence answered, dismissing the subject. “Did you have a question about the lights?”

“They came on when we approached the outer door, but there wasn’t anybody here. Who turned them on?”

“All the lights in the house are motion sensitive. You’ll find that’s true throughout the premises. When you enter a room, the lights will come on. Ten minutes after you leave, they automatically extinguish—unless you’ve pressed the bypass switch. The gas fireplaces work in a similar manner. Quite modern and efficient.”

Spence wasn’t impressed. “Like the state-of-the-art phone system that doesn’t work?”

Lawrence looked truly surprised. “The phones aren’t working? Are you sure?”

Thea nodded. “I tried to phone the police from the bridal suite. I didn’t even get a dial tone.”

“Well,” Lawrence balked. “All technology has a few glitches.”

“Are there computers in the house?” Spence asked.

“Well, of course, there are computers,” Lawrence answered disdainfully. “Mr. Rosemont made his fortune from Web sites.”

“Is his Internet access through the phone lines?”

“I couldn’t really say.” Lawrence scratched his head.

Unwitting, Thea touched Spence’s arm. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m hoping that Rosemont has installed cable or a dish for the newest satellite access. We can reach the police that way—but if he operates on phone modem, we’re out of luck.”

“We can take a look,” Lawrence offered. “I assume you will know what you’re looking for?”

“Yes.”

“Very well.” Lawrence led the way back into the kitchen. “Ladies and gentlemen, please follow me.”

Spence fell into step beside Thea. They held back from the rest of the herd. In a low voice, he said, “In the future, you might want to think twice before confronting a man with a gun.”

“I found out what we needed to know, didn’t I?”

“All we learned was what the butler was willing to tell us. Not much, Thea.”

She rolled her eyes. “Were you planning to interrogate him? Please, Spence. Don’t get all macho on me. You have a good plan. Let’s just follow it—find Jenny and then get out of here.”

Though Thea wasn’t looking forward to another ride on the gondola, she knew they had to escape and that was their only way out.

As they walked through the arched serving area to the dining room, brilliant lights flashed to life. Twenty high-backed chairs ranged around a long table which was covered with a damask and lace table cloth. Pink roses made a lovely centerpiece. Fresh roses! They looked almost dewy, as if they’d just been picked from a garden.

While Dr. Mona had been reminded of a murder mystery weekend, Thea thought of the sinister castle in “Beauty and the Beast” where unseen servants performed all the work and the visitors hardly realized they were pampered prisoners. “Spence, do you think this is a trick or some kind of a joke?”

He grimaced. “Let’s hope so.”

Lawrence announced, “We are now entering the Grand Drawing Room. This is where the wedding ceremony is to be held.”

Four light fixtures reflected against the gold-painted ceiling. A gas-powered fire flared in the massive stone fireplace, fronted with green-veined marble tiles. The furnishings were antique, mostly hunter green, mostly Queen Anne style with high-backed chairs.

A whispery voice floated, disembodied, through the air. “Please be seated.”

The wedding party shared a single gasp. Each of them glanced nervously at the others.

“Please,” the voice repeated. “Everyone find a seat.”

Thea found herself looking toward Spence. Arrogant as all hell, the man made a natural leader. At the moment, she wanted someone to tell her what to do.

“Let’s do it,” he ordered, looking about the room for speakers. “Must be an audio tape,” he said. “Possibly activated like the lights as we came into the room.”

“Are you sitting?” the disembodied voice asked.

“Radical,” Travis mocked, all nervous, angry energy. He planted his hands on his narrow hips and shouted to the proverbial rafters, “Where is my sister, you bastard?”

“Travis, for heaven’s sake, shut up and listen,” Thea urged, troubled by his expression, his haughty attitude of entitlement which not only set off alarms inside her that she couldn’t quite pinpoint, but would almost certainly enrage Rosemont. “Maybe we’ll learn something if you knock it off.”

Travis glared at her, but, with the exception of Lawrence who stood posed in front of the mantle, they each found a spot, Thea beside Spence on a brocade sofa. She whispered, “This is too weird, Spence—”

The mysterious voice interrupted her. “I am your host, Gregory Rosemont. Welcome to Castle in the Clouds.”

There was a pause, as if to allow them to respond. No one spoke, though Travis looked as if he was eating ground glass to keep quiet.

“The world is such a lonely place,” the voice of Rosemont continued, “and yet, it’s been said that we’re all connected. Each of us knows someone who knows someone who knows someone. Within six degrees of separation, each of us may be connected to every other person on the planet by those we share in common. All of you, for instance, know Jenny, but not necessarily each other.”

No one seemed confused by Rosemont’s reference to the infamous “six degrees of separation.” Thea supposed everyone had heard of the theory by now. And as far as Thea could figure, she and Spence were the only members of the wedding party who were previously acquainted.

“Each of you also knew one other special individual—a sensitive but tortured soul. Each of you, in your own cruel way, wronged this person.

“This weekend is for reparations. This weekend is your last chance to repent,” Rosemont said. “You have forty-eight hours to admit to your crimes and betrayals. At that time, a helicopter will arrive to transport the survivors down from the mountain. If you refuse to face the wrongs you have done, you will die.”





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