Jeopardy (11 page)

“You need to be under guard.”

She shot off the couch and circled around behind it. “Absolutely not!”

He turned so he could see her. “Angelica, didn’t you read the note? He said if you didn’t mind him, he would make you mind him. That’s a
threat.
He's saying, in effect, that if you don’t do as he says and go home, he will do something to make you. ”

A wave of panic rose up in her. She waited until it had receded before she went on. “He’s only using words, Amarillo. Letters pasted on a page. He hasn’t actually done anything harmful to me.” “Not yet.”

She propped a hip on the back of the couch. “Look, I don't have a death wish or any other kind of awful wish for that matter. I will take reasonable precautions, but
I
will define the term
reasonable.”

“Oh, hell, Angelica, who are you trying to impress? I know your definition of reasonable. You’ll lock the door when you remember to, and you'll allow me to continue the phone tap without too much grumbling, and that’s about it.”

“The man is in Boston, Amarillo!”

“How do you know? He could have mailed this to you on his way out of town. He could be here by now.”

“Here at SwanSea?” She shook her head. “No.” 

He reached up, grabbed her wrist, and with a tug pulled her down to him and positioned her so she lay across his lap and her head was in the crook of his arm. “We have to talk about this, Angelica. Now.”

She smiled faintly; the heat had already begun to grow in her as soon as her body had come into contact with his. “And that’s why you pulled me down here?”

“I want your complete attention.”

“You have it, believe me.”

“Okay, tell me, can you think of anyone who might be doing this to you?"

Her smile faded. “It can’t be anyone I know.”

“We have to consider the possibility.”

She sat up, abruptly stripping herself from his arms. “No, no! I tell you, it’s no one I know. ”

He pulled her back down to where she had been. He smoothed away the hair from her face, not because her hair needed attention, but more because he felt better touching her. And as long as he was holding her, he could trick himself into feeling more in control. “It’s a horrible thought, I know. For a while you were able to convince yourself that he was just some jerk who would eventually go away. By doing that, you were able to feel safe. But in this case, feeling safe is dangerous.” 

She gazed up at him, her expression now completely solemn. “How can you be so sure this is going to turn into something more than mild harassment?”

“It’s a gut feeling.”

“Nico used to say he could take your gut feelings to the bank.”

A crease deepened in one cheek. “It’s you I’ve got to convince.”

She exhaled a long breath. “The answer to your question is no, I don’t know anyone who would want to call me and say those strange things or send me the note.”

“Okay, then, let’s go at this another way. Instead of looking at who could have sent you the note, let’s look at
why.
The note said, ‘Come back home now.’ So why would someone want you to go back home? What’s there?”

“Him? He’s probably still there.”

“Maybe.” He gazed thoughtfully down at her. “Coming at it from another angle, we could ask, what’s here that he doesn’t want you involved with?”

“Well, it’s not you, because the calls started the night before you came to see me at the office.” He nodded. “That pretty much leaves the ball.” 

“The ball?”

“The ball is the reason you’re here. Didn’t he say during one of his calls that you should be a good girl and stay home?"

“Something like that. Seems like he definitely wanted me to stay back in Boston." She grimaced. “But you’re off the mark with the ball. For heaven’s sake, it’s for the Children’s Fund. Nothing could be more harmless or, I might add, more worthwhile.”

“When you have nothing to go on, Angelica, all theories are fair for consideration.”

“I suppose.”

“I’m going to run a check on all the guests.” She stiffened, but he was prepared for her displeasure with his decision. “Don’t worry, I will be ultra discreet. No one will know. No one will be offended. Trust me.”

She rested her head against his shoulder, seeking comfort and warmth, and thought about his request to trust him. He was the kind of mam who inspired confidence in others, and there was no doubt in her mind that she could trust him with her safety, and if it came down to it, her life.

Trusting him with her heart was another matter. Her love for him was too new, too fragile to expose. With each moment she spent with him, her feelings of love for him were growing stronger, larger. He was rapidly becoming everything to her, but she understood that his emotions weren’t so deeply Involved.

She trusted him not to deliberately hurt her, and in a relationship such as theirs, where only she loved, that was all she could reasonably ask. Above all, she had to remember a hugely Important fact—he hadn’t asked her to trust him with her heart. Only her safety.

Her robe had come undone; she looked up and saw that his eyes had darkened with yearning. Until that moment she hadn’t realized she was wanting him too, but it was there—the passion, the desire, the need. She wrapped her arms around his neck and drew his mouth down to hers.

He made love slowly to her on the floor in front of the fire. With his touches he created a burning that became a seemingly permanent part of her skin, with his kisses he ignited a raging Inferno inside her that not only lasted but built.

She had a craving for him—for the feel of him, the smell of him, the weight of him on top of her. He seemed to sense her neediness and responded with a generosity that took her breath away. He gave to her until tears clung to her lashes and she was crying out his name. He gave to her until she couldn’t take any more. He gave to her until he was crying out her name.

Angelica was frightened, terribly frightened. Somewhere a child was whimpering, somewhere there was the sound of music and laughter. She caught a scent of English lavender, and she heard the familiar, sweet voice say, “She shouldn’t be going out. She should stay home on a night like this. It’s too cold.” Then, “Be good. Be good.”

The voice faded. Another voice, one she hadn’t heard before, one that was deeper, gruffer, spoke to her. Rough hands grabbed her, and she started to cry.

“Mind me, dammit!” the man said. “If you don’t mind me, I’ll
make
you mind me!”

She tried to stop crying, but she couldn’t. The orchestra was playing dance music. Then it was dark and she was so cold. The silence she heard terrified her. She screamed and screamed but no one heard her.

Her first scream woke Amarillo. “Angelica? Good Lord!”

He jerked upright, switched on the bedside light, then quickly turned to her. And his heart almost failed at what he saw. She was twisting and thrashing as if she were trying to fend off some enemy only she could see. Sweat covered her body and plastered her dark hair to her head. Worst of all, her face was contorted with sheer terror.

“Angelica, what’s wrong? Honey, wake up and tell me what’s wrong.”

He grasped her shoulders and lightly shook her, but she struck out at him with balled-up fists.

“Angelica sweetheart, wake up. It’s Amarillo. You’re safe. You’re just having a nightmare.” He saw the tears streaming down her cheeks and cursed. The nightmare had her in a terrible grip and he couldn’t free her.

She felt someone gently stroking her brow. The music had faded; Amarillo’s voice filled the silence. Where was he, she wondered, sobbing. If only she could find him. If only someone would find her.

In desperation, Amarillo yanked a blanket from the bottom of the bed, wrapped her in it, then carried her across the room to a chair that sat in front of the low-burning fire. He settled into it, held her close against him, and rocked her.

He pressed his mouth to her forehead. “Shhh, sweetheart, don’t cry, please don’t cry. Wake up now, wake up. Everything’s all right.”

His big body warmed her, his low, soft purring voice soothed her. Somehow she realized he was holding her. Little by little the fear receded until slowly she lifted her eyelids and looked up at him.

Relief beyond measure flooded through him. He smoothed a shaky hand across her brow, brushing damp strands of hair away from her face. “There now,” he said softly. “See? You’re awake and you’re safe. It was only a dream.”

“Yes.” She felt as if he had rescued her from something terrible, unendurable. She just didn’t know what it could have been.

“That was some dream you were having,” he murmured, aware that he was still rocking her, still stroking her, but unable to stop. And he didn’t know if he was doing it for him or for her. “What was It about?”

“I don’t know. It didn't make sense.”

She sounded like a frightened little girl, and he was overwhelmed by the urge to slay dragons for her. “Dreams are that way most of the time. It’s hard to tell what they mean and why they come to you. But in this case, the dream could have been triggered by the note you received earlier. Goodness knows, it was enough to upset anyone.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Forget the dream. It’s gone now.”

She was sure he was right. She had been understandably disturbed over the note. It had said, “If you don’t mind me. I'll make you mind me.” Someone had said the same thing to her in her dream, someone she was afraid of. It made sense.

So why then did she think the explanation for her dream was more complicated than that? And why was she afraid of finding out the answer? “Do you want to go back to bed now?” he asked. 

“No. Can we just stay here for a while?”

He gathered her closer to him. “As long as you like.”

Seven

Winston Lawrence caught sight of Angelica coming down the grand staircase and went to meet her. “Miss DiFrenza, a phone call for you has been mistakenly put through to the front desk. I was about to take a message, but since you’re here, would you like to go ahead and accept it?” 

Angelica’s step faltered, and she came to a stop at the bottom of the staircase. “Did the caller give a name?”

“Oh, yes. I’m sorry I didn’t mention it before. It's a Mr. William Breckinridge of DiFrenza’s.” Her sigh of relief was almost audible. After last night’s dream and its traumatic aftermath, she wasn’t up to facing another strange phone call. She crossed the great hall to the phone. “Hello, Mr. Breckinridge. How are things going?” 

“Highly satisfactory. Miss DiFrenza, which is one of the reasons I’m calling. I wanted to assure you that I have everything under control. Eleven sets of jewels have been chosen. They’re all packed and ready for me to bring.”

“Have you had to referee any disagreements among the ladies, two of them wanting the same necklace?”

“I’m happy to report that this year, unlike several in the past, everything has gone quite smoothly.”

“And what about the rubies? Have you had a chance to go to the bank yet?”

There was a pause. “Not as yet. I suppose the bank will be one of the last things I do before I leave for SwanSea, that is if you haven't changed your mind about the Deverell rubies.”

“I won’t. I’m looking forward to wearing them. In fact, I can hardly wait.”

“I take it, then, that your ballgown has been completed."

“Yes, I have it here with me.” She glanced down at the list in her hand, then at her watch. She had an appointment to see the chef in five minutes. “When will you be arriving, Mr. Breckinridge?”

“If the schedule stays the same, day after tomorrow. ”

“Fine, fine. I’ll see you then. Good-bye.” She hung up the phone, took another look at the list, and realized she had left off the head gardener of the greenhouse. Damn. Well, she would just have to squeeze him in.

“So this is where you are,” Amarillo said to Angelica, strolling into the ballroom later that day. “I’ve been looking for you. ”

She was sitting on the floor beside the center chandelier that had been lowered for cleaning. It was a giant exotic flower made up of sparkling crystal petals. At the sound of his voice she looked around at him with a smile. “I’m surprised you found me. I didn’t think anyone would look for me in here.”

He dropped down to the sun-warmed floor beside her. “Were you trying to hide?”

“Just looking for a moment’s peace. I’ve had nonstop appointments all day.”

He nodded and propped his arm on a raised knee. “I’m glad to hear you weren’t trying to avoid me.”

She laughed. “Somehow I don’t think I would have much luck in hiding from you if you were really trying to find me.”

He grinned. “You’re right about that. I have two things going for me. One, I’m a detective. And two, I never give up. Oh, and there is a third thing.”

“What’s that?”

“You pull me to you, just like a magnet.”

Her smile softened, and he leaned toward her, intending to kiss her, but he hit his head on the chandelier. The crystals shimmied and tinkled one against the other. And color shot from their prism centers, causing fairylike rainbow designs to dance over her.

“Look at the rainbows," she exclaimed, laughing. “Aren't they pretty?”

“Pretty, but I'd rather look at you. I can’t reach out and touch a rainbow, there’d be nothing there.” He ran a finger down the side of her throat. “But I can touch you.”

She heated all over. “Yes, you can. Anytime, anyplace."

He felt himself begin to grow hard.
Damn.
He wanted her all the time now. This compulsive desire for her was growing, not diminishing—and it spoke of dependency. Better to get his mind on another subject. He glanced around, taking in the gold, silver, and crystal room. “Why did you choose this place as a hideout?”

“I don’t know. I’ve always liked it here. Caitlin once told me that her grandmother, Arabella, felt the same way. You’d think a room as enormous as this would be cold, but it’s not. It’s a warm, happy room. I've always thought I’d like to attend a ball here.”

“I’m not surprised. You love parties, the larger the better."

“That's not true,” she said quickly, suppressing a sudden shudder. “As a matter of fact. I’ve
never
liked balls or galas. There something about them that makes me very uncomfortable.”