first night at Stonecliff? Unease gnawed at his insides with jagged little teeth. What if she’d disappeared through the night, vanished like the others?
Cold settled low in his gut and he shoved his hand through his hair. She wasn’t his problem. Lord knew he had enough of his own.
Still, he thought of her last night, stretched across her bed, that deep copper hair spread out around her head, eyes dark and sleepy when they met his. A surge of lust had slammed into him like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of him.
Bloody hell, he was thinking like some sex-starved adolescent.
No wonder, really. He hadn’t been with a woman for nearly six months. He wasn’t cut out for long-term relationships, uncomfortable making promises he wasn’t capable of keeping. He’d had a pleasant arrangement for a while with a woman who worked at the shop down the road from the boatyard. Newly divorced, she was in no hurry to get seriously involved with anyone, just looking for a bit of fun while her kids were with her ex. Or so he thought until she’d suggested he meet her children, forcing him to put an end to their arrangement.
He doubted Brynn would be content with just sex. She’d certainly want someone stable, a house in the suburbs, a couple of kids. For some reason the image annoyed him.
He left the kitchen and made his way to one of the dormer windows that faced the house, ducking so he wouldn’t crack his head off the sloped ceiling. Outside, the sky had lightened to bleak gray.
If Brynn wanted to put herself in harm’s way to get something out of her dying father, it was none of his business. Still, someone should tell her what was happening at Stonecliff, warn her of all the wicked things her sister had done.
Of course, if he warned Brynn and she told Eleri, or Eleri overheard, he’d be out on his ass and very possibly facing a prison cell.
Could that bastard really see him locked up? Even if he couldn’t, the charges alone would assuredly destroy the life he’d built.
Through the glass, Mrs. Voyle’s small, blue hatchback pulled into the courtyard and parked near the kitchen entrance. Now, there was opportunity knocking if he’d ever heard it. Mrs. Voyle enjoyed few things more than a good rant about her employers, and from what he’d overheard, the housekeeper had her suspicions about Brynn’s timely arrival and Eleri’s motivations for bringing her here. If he pushed just the right buttons…
Reece pulled on his jacket and shoved his feet into his work boots. He’d go down for his breakfast. Maybe dig up something for his blackmailer, and if he could catch Brynn alone, warn her about Eleri.
Surely, he could tolerate the housekeeper’s cooking long enough to get what he needed.
He thudded down the stairs and out the side door of the coach house. Wet wind off the sea slapped his hands and face as he hurried across the courtyard to the back door. Drizzle clung to his hair and jacket, cold settling into his bones.
Three days of frigid rain and wind. He’d never be warm again at this rate. If he stayed here much longer, he wouldn’t have to worry about prison, or his past destroying his present, or a madwoman murdering him. He’d be dead from pneumonia first.
He pushed open the back door and stepped into a small utility room. The smoky scent of sausage wafted in from the kitchen. His stomach growled despite the revulsion welling inside him. The food might smell good, but he knew from experience the meat would be charred on the outside and raw in the middle.
As he entered the kitchen, Mrs. Voyle’s shrill voice stopped him midstride. “You get those boots off, Reece Conway. I’ll not have you dirtying my floor with mucky footprints.”
He looked down at his feet. His boots had already left wet tracks on the gleaming checkerboard tile.
“Sorry,” he muttered, toeing off each boot, “I forgot.”
Mrs. Voyle sniffed, but returned her attention to the meat in the pan, while he dropped his boots onto a rubber mat next to the door in the utility room, then wiped up his mess with a handful of paper towel.
“If you’ve come for your breakfast, you’ll have to wait. It’s not ready yet.” Mrs. Voyle poked at the sausage simmering in a layer of grease. He managed to suppress a shudder.
“That’s all right.” Reece tossed the sopping towels in the rubbish bin. “Is the coffee made?”
She nodded to the machine on the counter. “Help yourself. What are you about coming in so early?”
He shrugged and ambled over to the coffeepot. “I’ve a lot to do today.”
“I suppose you will after all this rain.”
Reece took a mug from the cupboard in front of him, poured the sludgelike liquid and rolled his eyes. The woman couldn’t even make coffee right.
Gripping the steaming cup, he leaned back against the counter and eyed the tight-faced woman. How to get her on the subject of Eleri and the missing men without appearing too eager? He’d have to say something soon. The longer he stayed, the more he’d have to eat.
“Eleri was very specific about wanting the grounds tidied before noon,” he ventured.
The housekeeper snorted and spooned watery eggs into a serving dish. “Eleri will be too busy with Meris’s daughter to be bothered with you today.”
“I didn’t realize Mr. James had another daughter.”
Mrs. Voyle wiped her hands on her grease-dotted apron, and shot him a hard stare. “If Mr. James has any sense left, he’ll toss that one out on her backside. Just like her mother. Hand out, ready to take what she can. Do you know about Meris?”
He shrugged. “A few things.”
“She was a piece of work that one, chasing after Mr. James like a bitch in heat. He was still married, you know? Crazy Enid might have been, but having that red-headed witch throwing herself at her husband certainly hadn’t helped matters. She had her accident only days after Meris told Mr. James she was pregnant.”
Reece had heard talk of Eleri’s mother’s death. It was part and parcel of the ever-growing legend that surrounded Eleri. And like so many of the stories there was more than one version. Some claimed Enid James took her own life when she realized the child she’d produced was evil, while others claimed Eleri managed to convince her mother to kill herself with her nefarious powers. The official report stated that Enid had died due to misadventure, having lost her footing while walking the cliffs.
“Enid knew about the affair?”
“She’d have to have been a simpleton not to. Mr. James was so bewitched by Meris he had her living in the house. That woman knew what she wanted, and exactly how to get it.”
He frowned. There were richer men out there. “All this because Meris had been after Mr. James’s money?”
Mrs. Voyle chuckled and turned back to the stove. A plume of gray smoke wafted from the charred sausage in the pan.
“She wasn’t interested in his money.” The housekeeper turned a knob on the cooker, and the blue flame beneath the pan vanished. “Meris wanted Stonecliff. Claimed she was related to the original family who owned the property.”
“The Jameses didn’t always own Stonecliff?”
Mrs. Voyle scooped out the blackened sausage into another serving dish. “No, Mr. James’s great-uncle built this house nearly a hundred years ago. But before that, the Worthings owned the land. The entire family was killed in a fire. Took the house, too. Have you not come across the ruins during your work?”
He shook his head. “I haven’t. Where are they?”
“Deep in the woods, near The Devil’s Eye.” She set a lid on the tray. “It’s probably for the best. The grounds are haunted.”
Reece snorted before he could stop himself. Mrs. Voyle glared at him over her shoulder.