completely oblivious, and she was grateful that he could not see the instant, telltale color rise to her face.
Out of the stairwell, they started the long walk down the crooked upstairs hall. Laurel was annoyed with herself to find that her heart was still beating hard, and she was far too aware of the heat of his body beside her. It didn’t help that he brushed against her going up the odd, steep stairs to the linen room and lounge.
“Any sleep preferences?” he asked, with no hint of innuendo.
“I was thinking anywhere but here,” she answered ruefully.
He stopped still in the hallway, to look at her. “Really?” The light was low, shadows in every corner; they had not brought enough light bulbs to supply every lamp.
She felt odd, defensive. “Yes, really. We’re not exactly in Kansas, are we? If ever a house was haunted, I can believe this one is.”
“Huh,” he said, and she felt a wave of annoyance.
She suddenly asked, “What about you?”
He turned and looked at her. “What about me?”
“Did you feel anything during the tour?”
“Ah. I see.” he said slowly. “Nope. Nada. I just must not be sensitive that way.”
There was an edge in his voice that might have been regret.
Laurel ended up choosing the small room with the single bed and the desk built in between the cabinet closets, with the door out onto the iron balcony overlooking the gardens, and the odd lithograph of the crow above the bed. It was by far the smallest of the bedrooms, the one that she’d thought of as the nanny’s room, and she couldn’t have said why she chose it, except that it was about as far from Tyler’s room as it could be, which under the circumstances seemed prudent. Katrina had already taken the best room, and Laurel didn’t like the feel of the children’s room, or the little bedroom; she had no intention of sleeping in either.
When she stepped into the doorway of the nanny’s room, Brendan looked at her questioningly, and she shrugged. “My governess fetish.” She was instantly mortified that she’d said it and felt herself blushing.
Brendan raised an eyebrow. “We’ll have to discuss that at length, sometime,” he said with such a suggestive tone that Laurel felt her legs go weak.
He turned in the hallway, and then just as she suddenly knew he would, he walked to the door of the strange little room, with the narrow bed and the hearth inexplicably set in a room so small, and that odd circle carved into the window. The door opened without trouble for him, but Laurel felt an instant wave of unease. “Are you sure?” she asked, without thinking, as he tossed his duffel onto the iron-frame bed.
“Why not?” he asked, genuinely puzzled.
She shrugged, lamely. “I don’t know. I don’t like it.”
He broke into a grin. “Good. That’s what I want to hear. Maybe I’ll get some action tonight.”
Their eyes met and she felt shaky again. “Good night, then,” she said quickly.
“We’ll see, won’t we?” he said, and stepped through the door to the strange little room. She got a glimpse of the hearth, the monastic bed.
Then he turned back and added obliquely, “I’m right here if you need me.”
When she shut her door behind her, she had to force herself to breathe.
In her sleep shirt, the door of her small room closed, she stood at her window, arms crossed over her chest, and looked out over the dark garden. The gazebo was as white as bone under the slight moonlight, luminous, as if lit from within. The drapes of the willowy plants were pale nets, barely distinguishable against the sky. Beautiful … and alien. Let the games begin, whispered a voice in her mind that was not quite Tyler’s.
Laurel shivered and turned to the narrow bed.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
When she woke, she at first had no idea where she was. Even more unnerving, she had no idea what year it was and no sense whatsoever of who she was; her mind was a complete blank and she lay with her heart beating, in a blind panic, as awareness slowly returned.
I’m Laurel MacDonald. I was from California, and now I’m not. I was engaged and now I’m not. I’m a psychology professor at Duke and now I’m … looking for ghosts of mad heirs.
She felt a bubble of not entirely calm laughter rise in her chest. Well, it’s no wonder I’m disoriented—who wouldn’t be?
As she got out of bed, she noticed one of the blankets had