Always in My Dreams (21 page)

The book took her a while to find. Having researched subjects as diverse as medieval castles and the chemistry of dynamite, Skye knew libraries well enough to know there was little rhyme or reason to the way this one was organized. The history of the Granville family was situated between Darwin's
The Descent of Man
and Mill's
Principles of Political Economy.

She made a little face as she examined the other titles. "Something my sisters would read," she said softly. "Something they probably
have
read." When Skye wasn't reading to prepare for adventures, her own tastes went to Poe and Hawthorne. She removed the Granville history carefully and slipped it under her arm.

It had never been Skye's plan to return immediately to her room. The book gave her an excuse to be downstairs. She hardly dared breathe as she padded down the hallway to the kitchen. She stopped several times to make certain no one else in the house was stirring.

The door to the cellar was locked. She twisted it twice, just to be sure. Frustrated, she made the decision to go through the outside entrance. Leaving the book behind but taking the lamp with her, Skye left the back porch. She propped the door open with a jar of beets from the pantry and circled the rear of the house.

The moon and stars were not her companions this evening and she was glad to have the lamp. The wind was bitterly cold. Skye was shaking before she reached the slanted double-door entrance. She bent down and gave one of the door handles a yank, fully expecting it to open for her.

The door didn't budge.

Confused, she tried the other. It didn't move, either. The doors were locked again from the inside. Skye was too cold to stand outside and wonder how it had come to pass, who had found them open and thrown the bolt, or why no one had been confronted about the lapse. At least one person in the house knew she had been in the cellar the night before.

Skye retraced her steps quickly, pushed aside the beet jar, and closed the back door behind her. Giving her feet a little stamp to warm them, Skye locked the door and went back to the kitchen.

Walker Caide was sitting at the table, casually thumbing through the history of the Granvilles. He didn't look up as she stood rooted in the open doorway. "This should make for interesting reading," he said, turning another page.

"That's why I got it," she said weakly.

He glanced up. "I take it you couldn't sleep again."

"That's right."

Walker nodded thoughtfully, his attention still on the book. "And while you were down here you heard something outside."

"Mm-hmm."

"So you went to investigate."

"Yes."

"You're intrepid, Skye. I'll give you that."

In another place, at another time, Skye would have been thrilled by that evaluation of her character. She was wary, though, of Walker's estimation. Her reply was feeble. "I try."

A faint smile touched his lips. He closed the book in front of him and gave Skye a considering look. "But you're not a very good liar," he said. Walker held up his hand to halt the interruption and protest she was prepared to make. "Come outside with me. I want to show you something."

"I don't think—"

He leveled her with a hard gaze this time. Pleasantness vanished from his voice. "It wasn't an invitation, Skye. It was a command."

Dread clenched her insides. The feeling was so powerful, so real, that Skye drew her arms across her middle. Her eyes followed him warily as he came around the table. He extended his palm and indicated she should precede him.

"Here," he said just as they were about to step outside. "Put this on." He slipped out of the jacket he was wearing over his nightshirt and trousers and handed it to Skye.

"What about you?" she asked. The cotton nightshirt wasn't proof against the cold. "You need something."

Walker gave her an odd look, then pressed the jacket into her hands. "Put this on," he said again.

"I know," she said, sighing. "Not an invitation. A command." As soon as she was in the jacket, she felt his hands at the small of her back pushing her out the door. She stumbled on the last step. "You should have brought the lamp."

"That's what got you into trouble in the first place."

Skye glanced over her shoulder. "What do you mean?"

"This way." Walker pointed to his left. When Skye didn't move quickly enough to suit him, he said, "Give me your hand."

She hesitated a moment, then held it out.

Walker took it, enfolding it in his own. "Are you all right?" He felt the tremor that had gone through her and knew it had nothing to do with the cold. "If you're nodding, I can't see it very well."

"I'm fine," she said. It surprised her that she meant it. The hand covering hers was comforting. Skye didn't understand how that was possible.

"Good. Let's go." Walker pulled Skye along the perimeter of the house until they came to the cellar doors. He dropped her hand. "Notice anything?" he asked her.

Skye looked around. She had no clear idea what he intended her to see, and she was wary of falling into a trap laid by him. "You're not making any sense. I see the entrance. I suppose it leads to the cellar."

"I think you know it does. What else?"

She turned. The dried, frozen limbs of rose bushes bordered the house. She imagined their fragrance in the spring and summer was carried in through open windows. It was the windows themselves that caught her attention next. Skye pointed to the closest one. It was a wide, double-arched window and only the abandoned ballroom had similar ones. She shook her head, not comprehending the purpose of this trip.

"Higher," Walker said.

Skye tilted her head upward. A small balcony jutted out on the second floor, surrounding a pair of French doors. She frowned as she tried to place the rooms and their occupants. Her face cleared suddenly as the answer was borne home. "That's your room," she said.

"That's right."

"I suppose you can see quite a bit from your balcony."

He nodded. "Quite a bit. In the autumn the trees all along this ridge burn with color. Now that it's winter, I can actually see the river in different places."

Skye didn't appreciate Walker's tormenting. "You know what I meant," she said.

"Why don't you say it?"

She couldn't. It would mean showing her hand. Skye shook her head. Walker was the one who would have to say it. She had to be certain he wasn't bluffing.

"Very well," he said. "You carried that lamp out here and tried to open these doors. I watched you. The doors were locked and you gave up immediately. You'd have been better off not to have carried the lamp. It was the light that drew me to my window in the first place."

"And your point is?" she asked.

Her question gave Walker a start. "My point is that I saw you trying to get into the cellar."

Skye shook her head, remembered he couldn't see her gesture, and said flatly, "No."

"No?"

"What you saw me doing was testing the doors to be certain they were locked. I told you I heard something outside. I went out to investigate. Intrepid, remember? With Mr. Parnell being so adamant that no one except a select few enter the cellar, I thought I'd better check."

"That's your story?"

"That's the truth."

Walker's shoulders were stiff with cold. "There's nothing more that needs to be said out here. Let's go back inside." He didn't offer Skye his assistance, thrusting his hands in his own pockets this time. When they were back in the kitchen, Walker fired up the stove and set water on to boil.

Skye began to remove his jacket. He stopped her. She was very nearly lost in the thing, but her teeth were still chattering. She gave him a grateful look.

Walker leaned against the stove, his arms crossed in front of him. The single dimple that sometimes marked his smile was nowhere in evidence. His features were drawn and the slightly crooked line of his nose was more pronounced. His eyes were narrowed but remote, his gaze going past Skye to some distant point, some distant thought.

"The water's boiling," Skye said for the second time.

"What? Oh." He jerked away from the stove and filled two cups from the kettle. He let the tea steep, removed the strainers, and handed one mug to Skye. "Sugar?" When she nodded, Walker found a spoon and put it on the table next to the sugar bowl. He didn't take a chair, preferring the stove's residual heat. "Do you play much poker, Skye?"

To keep from spewing tea, Skye swallowed hard. She felt the liquid burning all the way to the hollow of her stomach. "It's not a woman's game," she said, just managing not to choke on the words.

"That's a response to a question I didn't ask."

"I've played a little," she admitted. Jay Mac had taught all his daughters to play. Michael was very good at it, Mary Francis even a shade better. Rennie couldn't bluff at all, her face too expressive. Maggie didn't particularly enjoy playing, but she hated to disappoint Jay Mac by sitting out. As for Skye, her abilities were somewhere between Michael's and Rennie's. What she had going for her was luck. It seemed when it was shining on her she could do no wrong. The whole family marveled at it.

Right now Skye felt as if she was at the end of her run.

"I thought perhaps you had," said Walker. He exhaled slowly, not quite a sigh, more a signal that his patience was at an end. "Look, there's no particular reason you should trust me—at least, I can't think of one—all the same, you'd do better to throw in with me than oppose me."

Skye's puzzlement wasn't entirely feigned. "Throw in with you how?" she asked.

"Your snooping is going to get you hurt. You'd be better off just asking me whatever it is you want to know."

But of course, she couldn't. She sipped her tea.

Walker let the silence sit for a while before he said, "Parnell's life has been threatened."

"You don't think—"

"You?" He shrugged. "I don't really know, do I?"

"But when? You mean, just today he was threatened?"

"No. It started months ago. A few weeks before I was hired. In fact, it's the entire reason for me being here. I was hired to protect him."

Skye frowned. This was an unexpected piece of information. She had supposed that Walker's presence was meant to protect the invention, not the inventor himself. Where was the truth in what her father told her? Did she dare accept everything he said at face value? In that case Jay Mac hadn't known it all. He would never have sent her into any kind of danger. "I'm not certain what you think this has to do with me," she said.

"I thought that much was obvious. If your aim is to hurt him in some way, I won't let you do it."

"Hurt him?" She was dumbfounded. "Hurt Mr. Parnell? You have some very strange ideas. Have you had this conversation with anyone else? Mrs. Reading, for instance? Or the twins?"

"I watch everyone," he said. "But you seem to draw my attention more often."

"I don't suppose you meant to be flattering."

His mouth flattened as he shook his head. Gold shards of light flickered in his eyes.

"I see," she said slowly, setting down her mug.

"I don't think you do." He finished his tea and pushed away from the stove. When he came to the table he didn't pull out a chair, but intentionally towered over Skye. "I've decided you bear watching more closely."

"You're practically living in my pockets now!" Skye's raised voice only hinted at her alarm. She started to rise, but Walker extended his hand and let it hover near her shoulder. She sat back slowly.

"I can't seem to trust you not to wander around the house at night, and I'm not losing more sleep over it."

Skye didn't think she liked where Walker was heading. The only conclusion she could draw was—

"You can share my room, or I can share yours," he said.

She hadn't mistaken his line of thinking. There was small comfort in that. "You're quite insane," she said calmly.

"And quite serious."

"Mr. Parnell won't stand for it. He didn't want you in my room for a moment. He won't allow you to spend the night there."

Walker shrugged. "You can take it up with him in the morning."

Skye was of a mind to take it up with her employer now. Her intention showed clearly on her face.

"All right," said Walker. He stepped back and let her stand. "You go and wake Parnell."

Skye hesitated. He made it sound as if waking Parnell was not a particularly wise decision. She was certain Walker was very deliberate in giving her that impression. She was also fairly sure he was right. "I'll speak to him in the morning."

"As you wish."

"I'm not going to stay in your room," she said.

"Then I'll stay in yours. I told you it was your choice."

"Between Scylla and Charybdis," she uttered, under her breath. Realizing what she'd said, Skye glanced at Walker quickly. It wasn't likely that a housekeeper would reference Homer's
Odyssey.
She wished she'd said something about the devil and the deep blue sea instead. It was a relief that Walker hadn't heard or at least hadn't commented.