Always in My Dreams (11 page)

"Including Miss Dennehy?" Parnell asked.

"Especially
Miss Dennehy. Did you observe her hands? They're soft and smooth, and the nails are manicured."

"Perhaps she wears gloves when she works. Or maybe she delegates."

"Or maybe she's never lifted a finger to do more than pour tea."

"That's an absurd idea," Parnell said dismissively. "Why would she apply?"

"My point exactly."

Parnell considered that. "You think she's a killer?"

"You still think this is amusing," Walker said. His dark-brown lashes shadowed his eyes as he stared at Parnell. He thrust his hands into his pockets and leaned back against the mantel. Though the posture was casual, there was nothing but tension in the line of his shoulders. He was successful in shrugging most of it out. "The point is, I don't know what she is, and neither do you."

"That's where you're wrong." He shared none of Walker's concerns and none of the tension. "I know everything I need to know about her."

Walker Caide raised one dark brow coolly. "Based on..." he prompted.

"Things I don't have to tell you," he said. "You're just going to have to trust me. She's the one I want. She's not going to hurt me."

"Then why go through the charade of having interviews? You had her letters. You asked Mrs. Reading to respond to all the inquiries when you could have hand-picked her."

Parnell stood. "I had to see her." He shrugged and raised a faint smile. His voice was calm and quite thoughtful now. "She's worth seeing, don't you think?"

That gave Walker pause. "You're hiring her because she's a pleasure to look at?"

Jon Parnell rubbed his chin with the back of his hand. "I didn't exactly say that, did I?" His eyes narrowed and he managed to convey in a single glance all the impatience he felt. "Miss Dennehy's the one I want. You don't need to know more than that. I'm convinced she'll do a good job for me, and my instincts haven't let me down yet. I hired you, didn't I?"

Walker refrained from commenting that Parnell didn't know him half so well as he knew Miss Dennehy. There was no sense in casting suspicion on himself. "All right," he said finally. "I can see your mind's made up."

Parnell nodded. "I'll leave the details regarding her employment to you, but give her what she wants."

"The salary?"

"Yes."

"Hiring Miss Staplehurst?"

"That, too. She can run the roost, for all I care. I need to get back to my projects."

Walker knew Parnell meant he had to get back to his projects
right now.
He'd once witnessed Parnell leaving the dinner table in mid-bite when an idea had struck him. On that occasion he'd stayed in his workroom for almost twenty-four hours before stumbling, exhausted, to his bed. Walker's hooded eyes followed Parnell's progress across the room and stayed on the door after Parnell had left, waiting for Skye Dennehy's return.

She appeared in the doorway a few minutes later carrying her bonnet. Walker was aware that as far as a weapon was concerned, he didn't have to look any farther than her hat pin.

"Come in," he said, when she hovered at the entrance.

Skye stepped forward, reaching behind her back to close the doors. "Has Mr. Parnell changed his mind?" she asked, fingering the brim of her bonnet. She wondered if she'd be relieved or disappointed if he had. It was hard to know what to sensibly do when she was so caught up in getting back at her father. Getting away from Jonathan Parnell and Walker Caide hadn't made her decision measurably easier.

"No," Walker said, studying Skye again. "Have you changed yours?"

Her chin lifted slightly, giving her answer the edge of a challenge. "No."

Walker nodded once. "I see," he said softly. His gaze didn't stray from her. She was more nervous than she would have liked to project, he was certain of that. The fullness of her lower lip was marred by the way she worried it between her teeth. It wasn't until she felt his eyes on the betraying gesture that she consciously abandoned it. His attention wandered over the hint of color in her small oval face. She wore small jet drop earrings that brushed her neck as she turned aside to avoid his scrutiny. Her brows and lashes were several shades darker than her flame red hair. They were drawn together now over a pair of eyes that were deepening to a cool emerald hue as the silence between him and her was drawn out.

She turned on him suddenly. "Are you purposely trying to make me uncomfortable?" she demanded.

"Yes," he said. One corner of his mouth lifted and a single dimple took the sting out of the arrogant smile. "Am I succeeding?"

Skye tore her attention from the cocky set of his mouth and stared at his nose instead. It was slightly crooked from a previous break. She hoped that getting like that had hurt like hell.

Walker pointed to the hand that was clenched at Skye's side, then to his nose. "If you're having thoughts about resetting it, you'll have to get in line."

At being caught out, Skye's fist opened spasmodically. However, she made no apology for what she'd been thinking. "I imagine it's a long line," she said.

His smile deepened. "You'd be right." Walker motioned to her to have a seat. "Mr. Parnell's gone to his workroom and left me to finish this hiring."

Skye sat in the armchair she'd occupied earlier and immediately felt the disadvantage of Walker still standing. "Why?" she asked. "It's clear you don't want me here."

Walker didn't attempt to deny it. "That's true."

Skye watched him push away from the wall and come toward her. He had a rolling, graceful walk and his approach, even on the old hardwood floors, was nearly silent. He stopped a few feet in front of her and Skye had no polite alternative save to raise her face to meet his eyes rather than his groin.

"I don't want you here," he said. "And it's just as well you realize it, because I'm not going out of my way to make things easy for you. You should also realize that I work for Mr. Parnell, the same as you, and when he says
he
wants you here, then—" he shrugged, "—I ignore my better judgment and do what he says."

"I'll remember that," she said after a moment. "It must be difficult to have a position where you have to yield to someone else's judgment."

The gold flecks in Walker's eyes seemed to splinter. "Meaning you'd quit before you'd do that."

"Meaning exactly that."

He was silent a moment. He sat down, taking Parnell's chair, and chose his words carefully. "Then you must have many more prospects than the score of women who preceded you here today."

"Perhaps I do," she said, her tone neutral.

Walker picked up her letter of introduction from the table beside him and glanced over it. "Your experience isn't so different from that of the others. In some cases, you've a lot less."

"I'm sure that's true."

"So why do you think Mr. Parnell's hired you?"

"Because I'm a breath of fresh air?" she asked, forcing a dimpled smile. It faded as abruptly as it appeared. "Is it important? He wants me."

"My thought exactly." He paused a beat. "And you? Do you want him?"

Schyler blinked. Her mouth opened, then shut.

Her surprise amused Walker but he was suspicious. "I wonder if you're as young as you look," he said. "Or a very good actress."

He didn't mean young, she thought. He meant inexperienced.

"I see you understand," he said.

She did. Perfectly. Skye wasn't going to give sanction to the conversation by making a comment. It was only left for her to change the subject. "Has there been a decision on hiring Annie Staplehurst?" she asked.

"Mr. Parnell is willing."

"But you have objections."

"To everything."

"She needs to live here," Skye said.

"I understand that." He paused, thoughtful. "Did you know Miss Staplehurst before today?"

"No. I met her while waiting to be interviewed." Skye's nose wrinkled slightly. "Actually, I didn't introduce myself at all. I just listened to her talk to some of the other women." She needed the work. It was why Skye made Annie a condition of her own employment.

Walker leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs. The tip of his shoe nudged one of the paper towers aside. An avalanche of documents slid across the floor. He made no move to gather them and crossed his arms in front of him instead. "You're a curiosity, Miss Dennehy."

"Am I? That's interesting. I was having similar thoughts about you."

"Really?"

Skye noticed he didn't offer to answer any of her questions. She went back to the matter at hand. "Is Mr. Parnell willing to give me the authority I'll need to maintain his household?"

"I believe his exact words were, 'She can rule the roost.'"

"And the salary?"

"You could have asked for more."

Skye wished she had—not for herself, but for Annie. "Mr. Parnell must be quite wealthy."

One corner of Walker's mouth lifted, but this time the arrogant smile held no charm. "You're in danger of disappointing me, Miss Dennehy. I was certain you knew that already. From what I can tell, you've worked only for wealthy people."

"The Marshalls certainly had money, not that it had any bearing on my working there. I was employed by the Turners first, and they were hardly rich."

"Most people would consider a doctor of Turner's status quite well-to-do. After all, he runs Jennings Memorial. It's interesting that you don't."

Skye realized too late that she had been incautious in choosing her words. Then she wondered if it mattered. If Jonathan Parnell really were in league with Jay Mac, it wouldn't be long before he brought in Walker Caide as well. "Do you really care what I think, Mr. Caide?"

He smiled fully. "No," he said. "I suppose I don't."

"Very well, then. Will you drive me into the village? I left my bags at the station. I'd like to get them and also see if I can catch Annie before she leaves."

"Hank will take you in. He looks after the horses and the carriage."

"That's fine."

"I'll have rooms prepared for you and Miss Staplehurst."

Skye stood and looked pointedly around the parlor. "Please, don't trouble anyone. If this serves as an example of the quality of the work here, Annie and I will be better left to our own devices."

Walker followed her glance. "You know," he said, more to himself than to her, "it's only gotten this bad in the past few days."

Skye heard him and remembered her earlier thought that the cluttered effect had been contrived for her benefit. "That, Mr. Caide, is something that doesn't surprise me in the least."

Watching her precede him out of the parlor, Walker wondered what she meant by that.

* * *

Annie Staplehurst was so effusive in her thanks that Schyler was embarrassed. Half a dozen times during the ride back to the Granville mansion, tears welled in Annie's eyes as she spoke of her good fortune.

"You may have a change of heart," Skye told her finally. "I had an opportunity to see some of the other rooms, and the downstairs parlor is one of the
cleaner
areas."

Taking a handkerchief from under the cuff of her sleeve, Annie dabbed at her eyes and nose. Both were more than a little swollen and red, evidence that Annie's weeping had been going on before she'd had good news to cry about.

Skye estimated that Annie Staplehurst was a few years older than she. It was difficult to know with any certainty because lines of worry and fatigue had set permanent creases at the corners of her gray eyes and her mouth had a perpetual downward bend. Her hair was light brown, without any highlights to give it shine or luster. She was large boned and would have been solid looking if it weren't for the fact that her skin was stretched tautly across broad cheekbones and wrists. The effect was one of fragility rather than strength.

If, even in her happiness, Annie's expression was on the dour side, the same could not be said of that of her son, Matthew. He was a lively handful, scooting back and forth along the leather carriage bench so as not to miss anything on either side. He was a few months shy of his fourth birthday, but as far as Skye could tell, it was the only way in which he was shy. He had no hesitation at all about crawling onto her lap and carried on a relatively one-sided conversation with no encouragement from his mother.

When his name was mentioned, he had a habit of lowering his head slightly and looking out as if he were peering over invisible spectacles. Sometimes he'd cock his head and give Skye a mischievous sideways glance that thoroughly entranced her.

"He's got a bit of the devil in him," Annie said apologetically, when she saw the look. "Not that he's a bad boy. He doesn't really give me any trouble, but you can see that he thinks about it."

"He's a lovely little boy. You're very fortunate to have him."

Annie's face softened. "I am, aren't I?" She hesitated. "Do you have any children?"

Skye shook her head. "I'm not married." Immediately she cursed her incautious tongue. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean... I don't..."