Authors: Brenda Joyce

House of Dreams (23 page)

BOOK: House of Dreams

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He froze in the act of removing his shirt. Had he just heard someone in the corridor outside?

No, he decided, he had not. Gregory reminded himself that he was no longer that cowardly, frightened child. He was a chief financial officer at Barclays, Madrid, with a beautiful home in that city, and another one in Marbella on the Costa del Sol. And that the shrink, whom he had fired, had undoubtedly been right: she had been a figment of his imagination even if she had not been a playmate. And she had never done anything, anyway. To this day, he didn't know why at the age of three and four she had scared him so relentlessly.

Still, his pulse was accelerated now. He couldn't help hating the house. Already the air felt like it was choking him, it was so dense, so thick, making it difficult to breathe. And even though it was a beautiful night, filled with millions of stars, as far as he was concerned, the night was a chasm of silence and stillness, while the lights remained out, the phones useless, as if they had time-traveled back into the most barbaric of past times.

Images tumbled through his mind, too quickly for him to sort out,
but they were all bloody, until he finally realized he was imagining Margarita in an ugly, violent death, and his father before her, run over by a car on the streets of Pedraza.

Of course, he had never seen either his father or his sister-in-law in such a state.

An image of the woman tried to come into focus in his mind. Panic rising, he shoved it away. Even though he refused to see her, he knew who she wasâhe did not want to recall any childhood demons now. Years ago she had been so vivid he had thought her real. Now he was determined to keep her relegated to the dusty shadows of ancient, unwanted memories.

Something scraped outside his door. Gregory stiffened.

And then he heard it, very distinctly, nails scratching on his door.

And he knew. For one moment, sheer panic overcame him, and he was reduced to a child of three or four years old again.

Cass and Alyssa, their arms filled with pillows and blankets, approached the library, then halted in midstride. About to enter the very same room was Antonio, a sleeping Eduardo, blankets, and a pillow all in his arms.

He turned and looked at them. He had placed several candles in the library, which provided just enough illumination in the corridor for Cass to make out his surprised expression.

She realized he might not be able to see her as clearly, and she called out to him as they came forward. “What are you doing?” she asked quietly.

Now he smiled. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“We decided to camp out here.” She smiled back.

He continued to smile. “I was going to read for a while.”

Cass motioned at the boy sleeping in his arms, her smile fading. Was he also reluctant to leave Eduardo alone?

His smile disappeared. “I did not want to leave him sleeping alone upstairsâeven though my brother has a room just down the hall.”

Their gazes held as a mutual comprehension formed between them. Cass realized that they had to talkâand frankly. They entered the library and set the children up in their blankets with their pillows in one cozy section of the room, by the sofa, not far from Antonio's massive desk. “How's that?” Cass asked Alyssa, kissing her cheek. Eduardo, who had woken up for one instant, was just inches from her.

“Much better,” Alyssa said, yawning, her lids lowering abruptly. Cass watched her fall instantly asleep, a Beanie Baby she hadn't slept with all year tucked in her arms.

She straightened, and found Antonio watching themâwatching her. Her heart accelerated abruptly because his gaze was so intent.

Cass didn't move. Everything hit her at once. It was just after midnight, the house was huge and dark, the night silent and still, and she was alone with him. Somehow the two sleeping children did not seem to count. Her heart sped. And she thought,
This is so dangerous.

And she wasn't thinking about Isabel de Warenne now.

Cass tried to get a grip on herself. It was intimate, but they were both adults, her sister was upstairs, and nothing was going to happen just because they were alone together at such an hour on such a night. Nothing.

“This is an unusual night,” he said softly.

“Very.” Cass went to stand beside him. “This house is very spooky at night. I don't like leaving Alyssa alone, either.”

Their gazes met again, holding for what seemed an interminably long time. He spoke slowly. “Truthfully, I much prefer having guests than residing here alone.”

“I don't blame you.” She hesitated. “Antonio, is she here? Or are we nuts to think so?”

His gaze drifted over her features, one by one. “I do not have a lot of childhood memories from before my father died. But the one thing I do remember, and well, was a terrible argument I overheard between my parentsâhere.”

Somehow Cass sensed what was coming. “What were they arguing about?”

“My mother was crying. I had never heard her so upset. In fact, the only time I have since heard her as upset was after my father's death. She kept telling my father that she hated this place, that we had to go home to Madrid.” He was grim. Cass saw a nerve twitch in his cheek.

“Do you remember anything else?”

He hesitated, his gaze direct. “Actually, I think I do. I think she said, âI am so afraid.'”

“I am so ready to leap to conclusions,” Cass whispered, now looking around at the four corners of the room and then into the dark corridor outside.

His hand closed over hers, briefly, surprisingly. “I know you are. Your imagination is charming.”

Her breath caught. She met his gaze and felt the intensity there. She didn't want to move, and she couldn't quite think of a reply. Instead, she said, quickly, “You mentioned that your mother remarried. Where does she live? Could I talk to her sometime?”

He had dropped her hand. “She lives in Sevilla. Her husband died a few years ago. I'm afraid she would not be very communicative. Not about this house, the past, or Isabel.” He held her gaze. “Your very name would set her against you.”

Cass grew uneasy. She had to come clean about her aunt. “My aunt blames herself for your father's death, Antonio. I don't know why.” There, she had said it. And she felt as if a huge weight had lifted from her shoulders.

His gaze flickered. “I would like to speak with her,” he said softly.

She could only stare. She did not want them discussing the past. She knew Catherine would incriminate herself.

“But when the phones are repaired, I will call herâand try to get her to speak with you,” Antonio said.

He meant his mother. Cass melted a little, inside, unable to look away. “I promise to drop the subject if she gets upset, even slightly,” she said, meaning it.

“I know you would never upset her, or anyone, not intentionally.”

Cass's pulse accelerated. “Thanks.”

“You are a very kind person, Cassandra,” he said, and for one moment Cass thought he might reach out to her. But he did not. Instead, he turned away, leaving her breathless.

“This house has a huge history, and I must learn what that history is.” He paced back and forth, then paused. His gaze locked with hers. “I have never felt so strongly about anything, Cassandra. So many questionsâand the answers are all here.”

Cass told herself to focus on the conversationânot the man. “I feel it too,” she said, low. “There is something so compelling about your home. It's as if there's a magnet here, drawing us all, keeping us enthralled.”

The minute she had spoken, her heart skipped.
She is summoning us all together â¦

“I need you here to help me,” he said.

Cass's eyes widened. She had not expected him to repeat his proposition.

He did not break their interlocked stare. “Have you had time to consider staying?” he asked very softly.

And she heard herself say, “I want to stay.”
What am I doing?!
But it was true. She did want to stay. Desperately. And not just because of the enigmatic compulsion of the houseâor Isabel. She wanted to stay. Even though she was so scared. She wanted to stay because she was a woman who hadn't allowed herself to feel anything for a man in a very long time, and this man, who had belonged to her sister, was making her feel alive again in ways she had not expected, not wanted, had forsaken forever.

“Then it is settled,” he murmured.

His tone was so low and sensuous that Cass remained frozen, staring up at him.

He must have realized that, unintentionally at least, he was coming on to her, because he stepped away from her abruptly. It was hard to tell, but Cass thought he was flushing. And her heart was slamming around in her chest like an out-of-control Ping-Pong ball. She jammed her hands into the pockets of her trousers nervously. Things were on the verge of getting out of hand, she decided, and she
had
to leave on Monday.

But how could she, Goddamn it? How?

She reminded herself that her relationship with her sister was at stake.

That Alyssa might be at stake.

And what if her earlier suspicions were correct? What if Aunt Catherine was right? What if Antonio's mother was right? And what if, dear God, there was a summoning â¦ Cass could hardly believe herself. “Antonio, I want to stay, but it's against all my better judgment,” she began.

“It is settled,” he said with insistence. For he was an astute man, and clearly he saw the internal battle that she waged.

Nothing was settled. Cass hugged herself. She told herself she had two days in which to make a decision.

“If I do stay,” Cass said slowly, “maybe we should send the children home with my aunt. Maybe they shouldn't stay here.” The moment she spoke, she flushedâhoping he would not think she was trying to get rid of the children so they could be alone.

But clearly the notion never crossed his mind. “Eduardo looks forward to spending the summer with me. It is very important for us.” He reached for her. When his hands settled on her shoulders, and it
was
platonic, Cass became dazed. “Cassandra, she can't hurt us.” He spoke slowly. “She might make us a bit uncomfortable, but isn't that all in our minds?” His gaze was intent and searching.

Cass thought about everything that had happened since they had arrived. She thought about how the house felt like a magnet. “You're probably right,” she said slowly.

“You'll feel differently tomorrow, in the light of day, when we have an electrician here and when the phone lines are restored.” He did not release her.

“Yes, I guess so.” Cass hoped soâbut didn't really believe it for a minute. What was she doing? She was getting in deeper and deeper. He thought she was staying, with Alyssa, they would be working side by side every day, she was in love, he was not, she would undoubtedly get hurt, and badlyâlike never before. And to hide her thoughts, she looked away.

He touched her cheek. Startled, Cass whipped her gaze back to his face.

“I do need you, Cassandra. Together we can unearth the facts of Isabel's life and learn what has been the cause of this destiny that seems to link our families. We can piece together the puzzle of what happened to her between the age of eight, when she lost her family, and the age of nineteen, when she wed. And then we can find out if she was really tried for heresy, if she was really burned at the stake.” His tone was low and hoarse and very seductive, not because he was trying to seduce her, but because he was so impassioned. His eyes smoldered for the very same reason.

“Not fair,” Cass muttered. Her pulse had gone sky-high. A brilliant man, a fascinating man, and a lust for the past which they shared. He was capitalizing on it. “And you know it.”

“I know it,” he said, not removing his hand from her cheek.

They stared at each other.

And Cass thought,
It would be so easy to slip into his arms. Who would ever know?
They had already kissed, and gotten away with it. So easy â¦ “You're trying to seduce me,” she said firmly. But she did not walk away.

“I am trying to seduce your mind,” he said, smiling just a little. “Because you are a woman who must be seduced from the mind, not the body.”

He was so very rightâand so very wrong. Cass pulled away. She was more than intellectually aroused; her thoughts had veered in erotic directions.

He released her.

Cass walked away, thoroughly shaken.

“Cassandra.”

She halted, her back to him. Her tension escalated tenfold.

He turned her around, and the next thing she knew, she was in his arms, and their mouths had locked.

BOOK: House of Dreams

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