She felt weak, almost nauseous. Her womb ached and throbbed, tingling, swollen, on fire with the remnants of pleasure, she felt dazed with wantonness, incredibly, hungry again. And then the real horror dawned.
She had no idea what had just happened to her. She had no idea who had been on top of her, inside of her … or if it had been real at all.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
The morning sun streamed through the wavery windows, casting shadows like rippling water as she descended the main staircase, past the recessed window seat. She stopped in the entry, just inside the archway. The great room was empty but she could hear them… . They were all downstairs already: Brendan had them at the table in the dining room, filling out their journals and mood questionnaires.
Laurel was afraid even to walk into the room, to feel her body flame with heat, her cheeks flush—it was obvious, so obvious; she felt everyone would be able to see her shame. But when Brendan looked up at her from the table there was nothing in his face. “Dr. MacDonald, you survived the night. So nice to have everyone still with us,” he joked.
He was either the best actor she’d ever seen, or he actually didn’t remember.
The alternative was something she didn’t even want to contemplate.
She took a chair, and Tyler watched her with a secretive smile, until she felt quite insane with doubt.
But surely I would have been able to tell. Yes, they’re both tall, with good muscles on slender frames. But I would have known. Surely. Surely.
The thought was creepily incestuous.
Katrina was looking at her and Laurel forced her face still. Calm down. Calm down.
“Miss Sugar had another interesting encounter last night,” Tyler drawled, and for a horrified second Laurel thought he was talking about her, but Katrina stiffened and glared at him.
“Not an encounter. I said someone was in my room. A man with a clipboard. He was watching me sleep.”
Tyler snorted. “If you were asleep, you knew he was watching—how?”
“He thought I was asleep but I wasn’t,” Katrina said loftily. “First I heard footsteps… .” She frowned, a pretty picture of concentration. “I thought they were coming from above me, but then they were in the hall. That’s what woke me up. He was standing in the doorway. I wanted to scream but I couldn’t move.”
Laurel felt a paranoid surge of horror. What if she’s telling the truth? Was there someone wandering around last night? She flashed on the black-clad apparition in the garden.
She tried to keep her voice level. “What did he look like?” Despite herself, she glanced across the table to Brendan and Tyler.
Tyler raised his hands in aggrieved innocence. “I swear, I never touched her.”
“He was blond,” Katrina said definitively. “Older … maybe forty. Blond, with …”—she raised her fingers high at the sides of her face— “cheekbones.”
Laurel looked at her, startled. Blond, cheekbones. It was the thing she had noticed about Leish—the cheekbones. But that’s absurd. Leish is dead.
“Nothing,” Katrina glared back at him. “He just stood there watching—and then …” Her eyes widened. “I guess I fell asleep, because then it was morning and he was gone.”
Laurel was torn. The girl was clearly fabricating and yet …
Could there be someone else in the house? Who looked in on Katrina and then …
She forced the thought away. Not possible. It was Brendan or it was your imagination.
“Hmm,” Brendan said neutrally. “All right, Katrina. Since that room seems to be active, I’d like to put a camera directly in your room.”
Laurel jolted a little.
“Now this is getting interesting,” Tyler said.
Brendan ignored him, focusing on Katrina. “You’d be able to turn it off when you want privacy—but when you’re sleeping … so that maybe we can catch some of this activity.”
“Anything that will help,” Katrina said breathlessly.
“Good,” he smiled at her. “Mr. Mountford will set up another camera.”
“Yaaas, boss,” Tyler drawled.
“Good; let’s get upstairs and do it.” Brendan stood and gestured, letting the two students precede him through the door, but he lingered, looking back at Laurel.
Ask him. Say something, she ordered herself, but she could not.
“Are you feeling better this morning?” he asked suddenly, as she stood to leave.
“Just fine,” she said, and felt herself going crimson.
She rose to leave and he stepped in front of her. “You would tell me if there was something wrong? You were really out, yesterday.” He seemed completely guileless, merely concerned about