Bound by Dreams

A little frown worked down the woman’s perfectly Botox-smoothed forehead when Calan stepped back, polite but resolute as he moved out of reach. She turned slowly and studied Kiera. “But you haven’t introduced me to your friend, Calan.”

He didn’t answer. Kiera sat up straighter.

She put down her knitting and held out a hand. “Kiera Morissey. How nice to meet you. Magritte, wasn’t it?”

“Magritte Campbell. But you are American.” She sounded surprised, slanting a look at Calan. “You hate Americans. You told me so yourself, during the dinner when that basketball team from Dallas got drunk and—”

Calan cut her off. “Don’t remind me of my rudeness, Magritte. Are you staying here at the hotel?”

“Here, in this threadbare outpost? Hardly. I was on my way to Norfolk when we had a puncture. Henry’s having it looked at now.”

Was Henry the husband, the lover or the chauffeur? Kiera wondered. Something brushed her leg and she looked down at a white Maltese dragging a rhinestone-encrusted gold leash. He sniffed at Kiera’s feet, then trotted to his owner, who scooped him up against her amply enhanced chest. “Rupert, there you are. You mustn’t go away like that, darling. I’ve told you a thousand times.”

But the dog didn’t seem to hear. He was staring alertly at Calan. The dog sniffed the air and its fuzzy white ears went back. It growled, low and anxiously, small teeth bared.

“Rupert, do stop that. It’s just Calan, you silly sod. He’s not going to hurt you.”

But the dog seemed to flatten, shivering in Magritte Campbell’s arms.

As if it saw something that left it very frightened. Kiera found the thought unsettling.

“Ms. Campbell, would you like some tea and a scone while you wait? I have plenty here, all of it delicious.”

“What a divine offer. I can see why you like her, Calan. But no, I’m sure that Henry will be by shortly. I don’t mean to interrupt your knitting…” Her eyes slanted measuringly at Calan. “Or to interrupt anything else you two were planning.”

“Put your antennae down, Magritte.” Calan smiled coolly. “Ms. Morissey and I had just met. We were discussing a visit to see Draycott Abbey.”

“Good heavens, it’s been years since I’ve visited the abbey. How are Nicholas and Kacey these days?”

“Very well. I’ll give him your regards when I see him tomorrow.”

Kiera felt her heart pound. A buzzing filled her ears and she curled her fingers over the table’s edge. Suddenly Draycott Abbey felt too close, weighing ominously over her like a chill shadow. It was one thing to slip over the fence at night—and another to find herself face-to-face with the hated Draycotts.

“My dear, is something wrong? You’re very pale all of a sudden.”

Kiera leaned down quickly, glad to hide her face as she searched for her fallen needle. The table seemed to spin in a rush of dizziness. Dimly she heard the woman’s surprised voice, followed by Calan’s deeper pitch. His hand touched her wrist, skin to skin, and the whole patio seemed to lurch.

“Kiera—what’s wrong?”

She didn’t have a clue, but it was getting worse. “Sorry—don’t feel well all of a sudden.”

“Too many late nights, perhaps. Calan, let’s go outside for a walk and let her rest. We have so much catching up to do, after all.”

Kiera heard the breathy, seductive voice as if from a great distance. She gripped her yarn and needles, keeping her eyes on her hands to fight the sense of vicious spinning.

“…all right here?” The rough Scottish voice came and went. “…back before long.”

“F-fine. Go. Don’t need to stay,” she rasped.

She felt his hand touch her shoulder and then the two moved away, Magritte’s brittle inquiries filling the air as soon as they left the patio. She was inviting Calan to join her in Norfolk. Some kind of weekend theatrical party at her estate.

Kiera closed her eyes, taking deep breaths. Slowly the spinning began to fade. With the sun warming her face, she forced her hands to relax.

When she looked up, Calan was standing in the doorway watching her.

Just watching her. There was an intensity to him that should have made her uncomfortable.

For some reason it didn’t. It left her…awed.

Kiera saved that little anomaly to ponder later.

“Magritte?”

“Gone. She said to give you her regards. But let’s forget about Magritte, shall we?”

“She wouldn’t like being forgotten, I think.”

“Three minutes and you know her perfectly. Smart of you.” He leaned down, frowning. “How do you feel?”

“Better. I think.”

“You’re still too pale. What happened?”

“I don’t have a clue. Something in the food, maybe.” She took a slow breath, rubbing her neck. “Dogs don’t seem to like you very much. But I suppose Magritte made up for it with her enthusiasm.”