Behind The Veil

She stared at him but only saw his profile. He kept his face turned toward the street. “You don’t frighten me. I was only startled because I didn’t realize you were out there.”

“Then I apologize for not making more noise on my approach.”

“Why don’t you look at me when you talk?”

“I have my reasons.”

“If it’s to save me from the sight of your face, you needn’t bother, Dr. Bryson. I’m sure I can handle it.”

“So you know who I am?”

“Of course. Everyone does.” And they’d all tremble in terror if they knew she was alone with him on a dark, deserted street. Yet the strange feelings coursing through her senses right now lacked the stringent sting of fear she’d felt when he’d first called her name. She pulled her windbreaker tighter. “What do you want from me?”

“Professional services.”

“In what way?”

“My house, the Bluffs. Do you know it?”

“I’ve only seen it from a distance. It appears more a castle than a house.”

“A dark castle.”

“I still don’t understand, Dr. Bryson. What does your dark castle have to do with me?”

“I’d like for you to change it. Let in the light. You know, add color.”

“Are you looking for someone to redecorate the Bluffs?”

“Yes.” He exhaled sharply, as if her saying the words gave him some kind of release. “Can you do that?”

“I’m merely a seamstress, not an interior designer.”

“But you do sometimes sew drapes and slipcovers?”

“Occasionally.”

“Then I’d like to hire you.”

His voice seemed to reach inside her and awake some unexplainable eros, which defied reason. Fear edged along her nerve endings now, but she had no idea if it was due to the doctor’s presence or to her own bizarre reaction to him. “I’m not the person you need.”

He drew away and put his hand to his face as if to shield her from the infamous scar that was already hidden from her line of vision. “You won’t have to see me,” he said. “I’ll stay in my lab while you work and you can correspond with me through my butler, Richard Crawford.”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it? I’ll pay you well.”

“I’m sorry. I just can’t do it.”

He shuffled and stuck his hands deep into the front pockets of his trousers. “I understand. I’m sorry I bothered you. I promise I won’t do it again.”

Hurt seeped into his voice. She recognized the sound of it but had never expected to hear it coming from his mouth. It humanized him in a way nothing else could have and made her wonder at her own heartlessness.

The door opened behind her and Larry stepped through it. “Kat said you were feeling a little nauseous. Do you want me to borrow Jake’s car and…” He stopped midsentence as his gaze took in the shadowy profile of David Bryson. His hands knotted into fists, and he stepped between the two of them as if blocking her from some type of attack. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. “Frightening defenseless women?”

David’s muscles tensed. “Something like that,” he said. “But don’t worry, I’m leaving now.”

“Yes.” The word flew from her mouth. She didn’t know why or when she’d changed her mind. “I accept your offer.”

David stopped in his tracks. “Are you certain?”

She nodded. “I’ll come out to your place tomorrow if that’s convenient.”

“Tomorrow will be fine. I’ll send Richard for you. Would ten be too early?”

“No. He can pick me up at the shop.”

Larry clamped his hand around her arm as David disappeared into the shadows. “What are you talking about? Are you crazy?”

Crazy? The term seemed fitting, but she wasn’t going to stand outside and argue with him about it. She owed him no explanation. It wasn’t as if they were more than casual friends. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“Maybe not, but you can’t be serious about going to the Bluffs. What did he tell you? Did he threaten you?”

“No.” She pulled the door open and marched back inside the bar with Larry at her heels. She had an idea that it was going to be a long, long night.

BECCA STRETCHED BETWEEN the cool sheets and stared out the window near her bed. The rain had stopped, and the clouds moved across the night sky like black sheets being tossed by the wind. She never felt truly at home, but she usually felt safe and protected in her small, rented nook inside the Cavendish home. Tonight even the familiar surroundings seemed eerily foreign.

Kat and Jonah hadn’t agreed with Larry’s assessment that she was crazy, but even they had warned her to be cautious. A lot of people in town didn’t trust Dr. Bryson. The superstitious rumors of ghosts and warlocks aside, the man was antisocial and decidedly weird. Some even thought he was a killer.

She had no argument for them. If someone had suggested before tonight that she’d be paying Dr. David Bryson a visit tomorrow, she’d have thought them nuts. But there was no denying that she wanted to see him again. She’d liked his voice, or perhaps been mesmerized by it would be the more apt description. Rich, but with a hint of sadness and a whisper of heartbreak.

Hints and whispers. Egads! Now she was beginning to sound like one of the guides giving a practiced spiel to paying tourists. The simple, unadorned truth was that the man was a recluse who dressed in black and only came out of his fortress at night. And she had agreed to go to his castle like some poor sheep being led to slaughter.

The only thing to do was call the man in the morning and back out. Rolling over, she pounded her fists into the pillow before plopping her head back in the middle of it. All she had to say was that she’d changed her mind. What could he do but take no for an answer?

The wind whistled around the corner of the house, and she tugged the covers up to her neck and closed her eyes. “Sorry, Dr. Bryson. I’m not coming,” she whispered.

“Please, I need you, Becca.”

The words slammed into her senses, and her heart thundered in her chest. Opening her eyes wide, she jerked to a sitting position. The room was empty. The voice had been only her imagination working overtime. She lay on her back and stared at the ceiling, wishing she’d never gone to the carnival and never run into David Bryson. Perhaps it would have been better if she’d never moved to Moriah’s Landing at all.

A town with a history of witch trials and hangings on the town green. A town haunted by ghosts and abductions and unsolved murders. Yet, from the very first day she’d visited Moriah’s Landing, she’d felt as if she belonged here. And she desperately needed to belong somewhere.

Thunder crashed and lightning zigzagged in a blinding display of electric current, and the rain started up again. She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on the screaming wind and the sound of rain pelting against the windows. Instead, the voice of David Bryson haunted her mind. Smooth, mysterious, seductive.

The storm had passed and the first rays of the sun were already peeking over the horizon before she finally fell asleep. By then she knew that she’d have to make tomorrow’s visit to the Bluffs, if only to satisfy her own curiosity and convince herself that Dr. David Bryson was just a man with no power over her. She would not lose another night’s sleep over him.

CLAIRE CAVENDISH HURRIED down the narrow streets, dodging puddles left from last night’s deluge. Foreboding pooled inside her, much like the water that gathered in the cracks and crevices of the cobbled street. She couldn’t imagine what Becca was thinking, but she knew she had to stop her.