Forced to the Altar

He laughed quietly. “Relax. Enjoy yourself. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

She glanced around the room. “You’re right about that much. Thank goodness.”

“Stay in touch.”

“Believe me, I will.”

She snapped the phone shut then slid it into the charger base. What now? She was too keyed up to sleep. She hadn’t brought any books. The magazines she’d bought at the airport she’d read on the plane. She didn’t think the Moodys or her new boss would appreciate her playing the piano this late, especially given how rusty her skills were. She hadn’t played in over a year.

There was only a shower stall in the bathroom, so she couldn’t even take a hot bath to help her sleep.

Finally she decided she might as well go to bed, which she found cozy and warm. She closed her eyes…

Julianne stretched as she awoke the next morning, surprised she’d slept until almost seven o’clock. She strolled to the window to get a look at the land in daylight, and found the landscape harshly beautiful, rocky yet dotted with evergreen trees.

Wanting to make a good impression on her new boss, she took the time to straighten her hair with her flatiron, although the humidity would tighten her curls within a couple of hours. She donned dressy black pants and a hunter-green sweater.

She headed down the stairs, ate breakfast alone in the kitchen, then waited for instructions. When none came, she decided to go for a walk. Shoving her hands into her coat pockets, she strained against a surprisingly strong wind. She returned to the castle, offered to help with the housework, was refused, then went for another walk in a different direction, turning back when the castle was almost out of sight.

After dinner, she found sheet music in the piano bench and played for a while. From her room later she saw the man and his dogs on the bluff again and wondered why she hadn’t seen the dogs during her walks.

Four days later nothing had changed, except the previous night when a helicopter had landed nearby. From her window she’d searched for signs of people, but no one approached, either by car or on foot, but later she thought she heard someone crying. The keening sound sent chills through her, then the noise stopped, suddenly, eerily.

Once a day she asked Mrs. Moody when she would meet Mr. Keller and was told, “When he chooses,” in a matter-of-fact but also condescending tone.

Quickly Julianne reached the end of her patience and called Jamey. “I’m dying of boredom,” she blurted as soon as he picked up the phone. “I miss my mochas. Get me out of here.”

“Better than dying of something else.”

“Oh, come on, Jamey. I’m not in danger of losing my life, just my independence. And maybe I’d be harassed a little. That’s probably more tolerable than Mr. Keller’s treatment of me, which is beyond rude. I might as well be in prison.” She explained to Jamey that he hadn’t so much as introduced himself.

“What about the work he gives you?”

“Not only have I not been given a task to perform, I haven’t even seen him. Can you make arrangements for me to go someplace where I can have a life?”

“Let me see what I can do.”

“If you don’t, I’ll find a way myself. I swear.” At least now she had ID with her new name. It would make getting another job easier.

Since she hadn’t been given permission to use the computer, she hand wrote a letter of resignation to her elusive boss after she hung up with Jamey. At dinnertime, she carried the folded paper with her, intending to give it to Mr. Moody.

“Dinner will be served in the dining room tonight,” Mrs. Moody said when Julianne reached the kitchen.

Since she had stopped asking for a reason why things were done the way they were, she went to the dining room without question and was surprised to see two place settings, one at the head of the table, and one next to it.

Company at last. She tucked her letter behind a bowl of shells when she heard footsteps, a steady pace along the hall of the second floor above her, down the long staircase, then the downstairs hallway. A man came through the door. It couldn’t be Zach Keller—this man was too young, only about thirty. And he wasn’t the dark man who walked the bluff at night, because this one had golden blond hair and bright blue eyes. He extended his hand.

“I’m Zach Keller. Welcome to the Spirit Inn.”

Two

Zach watched Julianne’s expression transform from surprised to…mutinous? Her crossed arms indicated the latter. Her sweet, citrusy perfume distracted him, reminded him of something. Someone?

“I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself until now,” he said.

“Are you?”

He wasn’t used to anyone questioning his actions. He could and often did sidestep answering a question, but whatever words came out of his mouth were the absolute truth. Most of the time, he qualified mentally.

“It was rude of me,” he said, not rising to her bait. Her stunning hazel eyes didn’t flicker. She kept herself so still, her blond curls didn’t move but rested against her shoulders. She clamped her mouth shut.

He decided to wait her out, which gave him a moment to recall why her perfume jarred him. Last week, after Mrs. Moody had unpacked the boxes sent ahead by Julianne, he’d climbed the tower stairs and searched through what she’d sent, trying to get a handle on what she was like, this person who was so important to Jamey. He’d fingered the garments hung in the wardrobe and folded neatly in the dresser drawers, the distinctively lemon fragrance lingering subtly in the fabric and less subtly in his mind.

He’d pictured the body that fit the brightly colored clothing—the impractical abbreviated T-shirts, skirts and shorts; the neon-green bikini bathing suit, and the flimsy lingerie, a lacy rainbow of color that he’d resisted touching. An image of Julianne had formed in his mind—shapely, womanly. Mouthwatering.

Zach often endured long periods of celibacy by choice, this latest bout hitting the seven-month mark. But he’d always been capable of denying his needs, and he didn’t expect this time to be any different, even though in person she was even more tempting, her body even more curvy.

“Obviously it took a phone call from Jamey to force you to meet me,” she said at last, breaking the increasingly uncomfortable silence. “I feel so welcome.”

It didn’t matter to him whether she felt welcome. He hadn’t wanted her here, had taken her in because for thirteen years he’d owed Jamey a favor, one Jamey hadn’t called in until now. “I haven’t spoken with him,” he said honestly.

She frowned. “Then why are you here?”

“Because it was time. Past time.”

She looked him up and down. “I expected an older man.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

“I’m not disappointed. I meant, I just figured you were old, since you take naps in the afternoon.”

“Sometimes I’m up all night. When that happens, I sleep during the day.”

“What do you do?”

“I don’t discuss my work.”

Judging by her expression, he’d just lost more points. Tough. He would keep his word by giving her a safe haven until her brother’s trial was over, even if it meant locking her in a tower.

“You don’t discuss your inn?” she asked, challenge in her voice, as if she’d figured out the Spirit Inn didn’t really cater to vacationers. “Then how am I supposed to work for you?”

“You will have tasks.” He didn’t like how she drilled him with her gaze, as if she could see inside his head, but he maintained eye contact.

“Will these tasks have anything to do with the helicopter that arrived last night and left this morning?”

He’d wondered if the sound had awakened her.

“I guess the answer to that is no,” she said finally. “I have something for you.” She grabbed a folded sheet of paper from behind a large glass bowl on the sideboard.