glanced toward the Lodge. “Supper’s waiting. You sure you’re not hungry?”
I thought about going back in and facing the Olivers so soon after my abrupt departure. I was hungry, but all my instincts told me not to go. Not yet. Courage is such a fickle thing.
“I’m sure,” I told him. “I’m going to bed.”
He watched me a moment longer, the lean face suddenly implacable, and then he tipped his hat and left me standing in the dirt.
At midnight I gave up trying to sleep. I had stared at the dark ceiling over my bed for a very long time, trying to shut off my over-active mind. Nothing worked. Sleep was nowhere near. Perhaps it was a residue of jet-lag; perhaps it was the scene with the Olivers at the dinner table. Perhaps it was simply that I couldn’t forget I was the one responsible for Tucker’s death, as Lenore had so dramatically reminded me. The worst of the crying had been over for weeks; now I stared dry-eyed into the darkness of my cabin and wondered why I had been left behind. God knew the accident had been bad enough to kill us both. Perversely, it hadn’t.
I finally decided on a venture outside, hoping the cold mountain air might clear my mind. I pulled on jeans and a heavy Irish sweater over my pajama top, as well as my tweed jacket that bunched up over the thickness of the sweater. I tugged at it until it was more comfortable, then stepped into fuzzy bedroom slippers and went out the door. I locked it behind me.
The evening was chilly, clear and crisp as only mountain nights can be. Away from the diffused glare of city lights, the stars glowed in a black sky and the air sang with pine scent. My cabin was set apart from the others. The Olivers were the closest, some fifty yards away. No light shone from there and only faint illumination from the Lodge found its way through the darkness to me. But the moon shed enough light to see by.
I blew out a breath and saw it cloud briefly in the air. Then I hugged my ribs and started walking, scuffing through the dirt in my slippers. Not the best footwear on a cold mountain night, but I didn’t care.
I had no goal, I just wanted to walk. Eventually I wandered down toward the barn and went around it, stopping short as I saw the metal rods of a white-painted arena gleaming ghostlike in the darkness. I hadn’t noticed it on the ride in. It stood on the flatlands below the barn.
The arena drew me like a magnet. I draped myself against the cold metal fence and hung there, relaxing and conjuring up a vision of horses circling the rounded rectangle in a bid for freedom. But the cold seeped through my blazer and my chin, resting against the top rod, felt frozen solid. My toes were complaining. I sighed and pushed off the rails, more than ready to head back. My mind was no easier but I felt a little more tired than before. It was something.
The shadow darted at me from out of the darkness, from behind. I spun around, gasping automatically, and gave myself away. The shadow turned in my direction and came at me. Half of me wanted to run. Half of me was rooted to the ground.
The rooted half won.
The shadow formed itself into a human shape, and then I identified it. “What are you doing out here?” I asked, trying to make my heart return to its normal cadence.
Patrick Rafferty halted before me. His clothes were dark, making him seem a part of the night. “I beg your pardon?”
I thought about the imperativeness of my tone. “Sorry. You frightened me.” I paused. “What are you doing?”
The horn-rims rested on his face, sharpening the gaze he directed at me. “What are you doing?”
I considered not answering. I had asked first. Then I thought about how ridiculous the whole conversation was.
I smiled at him. “Working the kinks out of my thoughts so I can sleep. How about you?” My smile grew. “Plotting?”
He scowled at me. The moonlight limned the angles of his face and shadowed his hair and eyes. “Let’s just say, I was working.”
I hid the laughter that welled up; maybe Lenore was right about him. If he wanted to act out his spy novels, let him. Fantasy is healthy for the soul.
I looked beyond him. “What were you doing