Minding Amy (7 page)

Once he was gone she went back out into the hall and picked up her laptop bag. She carried it into the sitting room, where she'd spied a writing desk she could set it up on, for the following day's work. She planned to spend Saturday scouring the town for information about the Ghost Hunter crew's visit, then come back to start her feature. She would get quotes from the Arundel townsfolk, before giving a full description of the house and posing a number of questions for the readers. She'd planned the story as a two-part feature. In this stage she would open with the background of the Ghost Hunter show and Quentin's disappearance, then lead into the local hearsay on Quentin's visit, and finish with a description of the house and its supernatural elements.

The laptop looked out of place on the little desk, with its sunken inkwells and feather quill. She ran her hand up the length of the feather, wondering who had used it and what they had written about. She would have to get clued up on some background information on the occult, she supposed.

A shiver ran up her spine and she wrapped her hand around the back of her neck. As she did she noticed the stillness in the atmosphere, the eerie silence. Then a distant sound caught her attention, a faint noise—a faint wailing noise.

She swallowed, hard, feeling unnerved.

Turning around slowly, she recalled Jake's words about Quentin's mood changes after being in this house. She scanned the room. What had appeared friendly when they first arrived now looked rather disconcerting. Numerous lamps were doing battle with the encroaching shadows, and for some reason she felt as if she was being watched.

"I wonder where the kitchen is," she said aloud, in an effort to break the eerie atmosphere that surrounded her. She had a sudden desire to get out of the creepy room. She dropped the empty laptop bag beside the desk and headed off. In her haste, she snagged the pocket of her combats on the metal rail around a small table. The lamp housed there skidded as a result, sending light and shadow bouncing around the room. She grabbed it and set it back in place, cursing under her breath. She unlatched herself and glanced around the room again. That was when she saw them.

Three women with impassive faces and straggling hair, wearing dark medieval garb, stared down at her from a large painting over the fireplace. Their large, woebegone eyes looked directly at Amy. Her skin tingled with unease. She swallowed. In the background of the scene, she could make out a tall stack of wood, a bonfire. These must be the witches, the coven Jake had referred to when he phoned. With an effort, she turned away to examine the other pictures on the walls.

The three women were depicted again, individually, across twelve pictures, which hung around the walls rather like the Stations of the Cross in a chapel, the large painting over the fireplace presumably representing the altar. The similarity struck her immediately. Each woman appeared four times, the images showing them at tasks like cooking over a pot and stroking a big black cat. She couldn't force herself to look any closer. She darted for the door.

Where was Sebastian? How could she have been so cool about him leaving her there, alone? She gritted her teeth. She didn't want to need him. That would prove her dad right. She needed more lights on, and she'd be fine. Back in the hall, the staircase ran up into darkness. A dim lantern above her head had little hope of illuminating the gaunt hallway properly. The other door that stood ajar let a wedge of light seep out through the gap. She walked over and pushed the door open, revealing a bedroom with a huge four-poster bed. It looked like something out of a haunted house, which did nothing to settle her.

"Where's the kitchen?" she muttered, glancing around. The kitchen would be full of familiar things, white goods and bright lights, she hoped. Turning, she noticed a corridor on the right hand side of the stairs and walked over to it. Where was the light? Fumbling around in the gloom she touched on what felt like a bell pull and when she yanked it on, the corridor lit up. Phew. At the end of the corridor she could make out the shape of a table in the darkness. It had to be the kitchen. She set off, stepping quickly down the corridor.

A loud creak behind her froze her to the spot.

It sounded like floorboards creaking. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Was there someone else in the house? She took another two steps then froze again, when a recessed door further along the corridor slowly opened, creaking as it did so. She stared at it, rigid with fear and expectation.

"Amy?"

"Sebastian." She flattened against the wall and turned back to see him standing in the hall, a wine bottle dangling from one hand.

He was watching her with concern. "What's the matter?"

"It's…Sebastian, there were…noises."

He walked toward her. There it was again, a creaking sound. He paused. "That noise?"

She nodded.

He stepped back. The noise sounded again. He ran his hands over the wall.

"Sensors, it's rigged."

"What?"

"The place is rigged, you went over a sensor. Come back to me and you will see how it works." One corner of his mouth lifted as he beckoned to her.

Warily, Amy took a step in his direction and as she did the door along the corridor slammed shut behind her. It freaked her out and she ran into his arms, a garbled scream escaping her.

Her heart thudded wildly as she clung to him.

Sebastian wrapped his free arm around her. It felt good, it felt solid.

"See, that must be on a spring cable, you've reversed it now."

"Oh." She put her hand to her throat, confusion and relief rushing through her. Even if it was a trick, it had done a good job on her.

She knew she should step away from her unwanted minder, but she couldn't bring herself to do it, not yet.

"Aw, did you get spooked?" He lifted her chin with one finger, and when he looked down into her eyes she could see how amused he was by her predicament.

That leveled her head quickly. Annoyed, she prized herself free of his grip and stepped away, making a big show of putting space between them. "That's right, have a laugh at my expense why don’t you," she snapped, nearing the end of her tether.

He didn’t even make an effort to hide his amusement.

"How the hell did you know it was a trick anyway?"

"Amy, it's a spoof house. The whole Ghost Hunter show is a spoof."

It was
? She'd thought it looked a bit silly, but she didn't know it was a spoof. "You've seen the show?"

"I'm aware of it." He shrugged. "I have my niece and nephew over for adventure weekends once a month, they are into it. It's a staged reality show, just as this is a staged supernatural house."

She still didn't get it.

"Remember what the housekeeper said, she said she'd set everything up for us."

Yes, she did recall that, and now he'd shown her how it worked, the creaking floorboards and the door thing was quite obviously rigged. "None of it is real?"

"Far from it." He bit his lip.

She frowned at him.
Damn his bloody cheeky attitude
. "But how did you know?"

"The name on the door kind of gave it away."

"The name?"

"Hammer House."

"I'm sorry, I still don't understand."

"Scary movies?"

"I'm afraid I'm not really into scary movies." She shrugged it off but inwardly she was annoyed. What a great start, her bodyguard knew more about the damn thing than she did. It was then she noticed his hair was wet and his shirt had been splattered with large raindrops. "You're wet."

"It's started raining out there."

"Oh." She had a sudden urge to pull his shirt off for him. The knot of anticipation that simmered between her thighs was growing hotter by the moment. Her gaze dropped to his belt buckle. An image flashed through her mind—an image of herself pulling that belt free, undoing his fly and sliding her hands inside his jeans.

She blinked it away, but the damage was done.

They stared at each other across the hallway. The look in his eyes was brooding, almost predatory. Her pulse still raced, but the cause had changed. It wasn't about the surroundings any more. It was entirely about him. Her body had flared into life and her center ached to be filled.

He set the bottle of wine down on the floor and sidled over to where she stood, closing the gap she'd left. "If you were hoping for ghosts and things that go bump in the night, I'm sorry, but the only danger you are in is from me wanting you every time you are near me."

She stared up at him, unable to believe he was blatantly stating she turned him on. But it was there in his face, and she could no longer deny she wanted it. His gaze was on her mouth, and it was hungry. He cupped her head in one hand, stroking her hair as he did. Her head dropped back into the embrace, her lips ready to accept his kiss. He ducked his head.

Firm, warm, and persuasive, his lips moved over hers. The touch of his mouth on hers was electric, his kiss opening her up, making every nerve ending shimmer and reach for more of him.

As soon as her lips parted for him, he thrust his tongue into the heat of her mouth. She ached for that kind of penetration elsewhere, and stroked his tongue with her own. Her hands went to his shoulders, their bodies pressed together as the kiss endured. Energy surged through her, and she moaned into his mouth, unable to hold back.

"You don't do bump in the night?" she whispered as they drew apart, her hands anchored on his hips.

"Oh, I can, believe me, I can."

He lifted her with his hands around her buttocks, and her legs instinctively wrapped around his hips. He pressed hard against her and her shoulders pivoted against the wall at her back. The bulk of his erection was bedded against the seam of her pants. She gasped for breath.

"I take it we can forget about your investigation until tomorrow morning?" His voice was a low murmur, and humor still trickled through his words. Again he pressed against her, letting her feel his hard length through their clothing.

Sensation roared through her groin. Her clit was thrumming and at her center a demanding pulse beat a frenzied tattoo. She caught her lower lip between her teeth to anchor herself then nodded.

In the morning I'll focus on the job
. Until then everything was easy to forget, ghosts included, when he was looking at her that way.

A niggling doubt told her that was bad though, it was wrong.

Tomorrow, I'll think about it tomorrow.

How could she ignore the seductive proposition in his expression? This man was armed and ready for action, and she wanted him, hard and hot, inside her. Her body moved against him of its own accord.

Capturing her easily against him, he turned and walked back to the entrance. He glanced left and right. "Bedroom?"

She nodded her head into the room where she'd seen the four-poster. "That way."

He walked into the downstairs bedroom, kicking the door open wide as he did so, and deposited her on the bed on her back. With his hands cupping her breasts, he arched over her and kissed her again. She ran one hand down his chest, enjoying the feeling of taut muscle beneath her fingers. Her legs were still loosely around his hips and her upper body lifted up from the bed, seeking contact.

When he drew back, he kept his thumb over her nipples, brushing them brusquely through the fabric. He looked at her, his eyes glowing, reflecting her arousal in their gray-green depths. Her heart was pounding. He stroked his other hand against her shoulder.

"I'm going to undress you now, happy with that?" He looked dangerous, darkly handsome and unmistakably aroused. He slipped his fingers beneath the surface of her tank top where it hung on her shoulder.

The movement of the material across her hard nipples was electric. She breathed her response audibly, her body leaning into his, her lips parted. "Yes, please."

Without further ado he lifted the hem of her top and pulled it over her head, casting it aside. The intensity in his eyes as he gazed down at her naked breasts made her breathless. Her skin was positively sizzling, the nerve endings a riot beneath the surface.

They were so close that she was breathing his breath into her lungs. Her hips began to move against his. The swell of his erection through their clothes felt so good and she gave a low groan, looking at him with longing.