House of Dreams (37 page)

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Authors: Brenda Joyce

BOOK: House of Dreams
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Isabel nodded, and it was difficult to speak. “Yes, my lord.” She began to tremble.
“Good,” the earl finally said. “You may go, Isabel.”
Isabel stood so quickly that her chair scraped rudely back. She could hardly breathe, but she curtsied slightly—and rushed from the room. Never had she been more eager to escape anyone.
But his eyes remained upon her—she could feel them, hard and cold and so very ruthless and frightening.
And once outside the door, once in the common hall, she collapsed against the wall.
First Rob's lover, and now this.
She was to become Sussex's spy.
Cass wasn't sure what woke her up, but she was suddenly yanked out of a disturbing dream. One moment, she lay cuddled up with Alyssa on the floor, her heart pounding, telling herself it was only a dream, and then in the next moment, she thought about her confrontation with Isabel last night and her frightening message. She thought about both Celia and Tracey having disappeared, and suddenly she remembered that her aunt was gone.
The sound of a mug or coffee cup being set down made her open her eyes. Shoving her hair out of her face, she slowly sat up.
Antonio was awake, sitting at the desk, a cup of coffee steaming beside him. He was bent over something, reading avidly, his glasses slipping down his straight nose. Cass studied him. It was impossible not to admire him; he was such a solid, brilliant, attractive man. She sighed. What would happen once this nightmare was over? Once they left Castilla? Cass didn't dare think ahead.
Neither one of them had gotten very much sleep last night. They had begun researching Sussex's life in the hopes of finding out more about Isabel, until Cass hadn't been able to keep her eyes open. She vaguely recalled crawling into the blankets with Alyssa and instantly falling asleep.
They should all leave Casa de Suenos. Staying was dangerous—Cass was certain of it. But they had to find Tracey and Celia first. Cass could not leave without her sister and the elderly woman whom she had known for most of her life.
And there was no way she would leave Antonio behind.
Antonio had yet to notice that she was awake. Cass could imagine that she looked like a wreck. She was debating getting up when he turned. “She had a child. The same year that she died.”
Cass started. “Isabel had a child?” she gasped, all worries about her appearance first thing in the morning now gone.
“I found a passage in one of my father's books, and it is marked.” He hesitated, smiling. “Good morning.” His gaze slipped over her.
Cass had slept in her jeans and a tank top. She knew her hair was in snarls. She flushed. “I'll be right back,” she said, standing and fleeing the room.
In the light of day, the house wasn't as bad as it was in the dead of night, she thought as she raced into the nearest bathroom to brush her teeth and wash up. But it was not quite benign. There was a stillness now which she was acutely aware of. It was almost as if it were the lull before the storm.
Barefoot, she raced back to the library. Antonio handed her a mug of hot coffee, his smile brief but warm.
Their hands touched slightly. As Cass sipped the sweet, hot coffee, she thought that no matter what was happening, the attraction that she felt for him was somehow stronger than ever. But was it real? Or was it merely a part of Isabel's master plan? Assuming she had one?
Cass hated the notion. But her aunt and Eduardo had never intended to become lovers, and look at what had happened—and where it had happened. Cass was scared.
“Alvarado was at Mary's court.” Antonio picked up a volume and opened it to a marked page. “My father found this entry. The chapter here is devoted to Mary's marriage to Philip. Alvarado was in the service of the emperor. His title isn't mentioned, but it says, ‘Only one Spaniard was allowed to attend Philip, Count Alvarado de la Barca, throughout the meal.' And then, later in this book, there is a reference to the Count of Pedraza's pregnant wife. It is in the context of a section describing Mary Tudor's supposed pregnancy.”
“So Isabel was pregnant. But did she ever have the child?”
“I wonder if the child was conceived out of wedlock,” Antonio said.
Cass froze. “What would make you think that?”
“Because there is no child on our family tree. Had the child died, even as an infant, it should have been included.”
“Unless it was never born.”
“I suppose it is just a feeling I have.”
They regarded one another, sipping their coffee in silence. “What are we going to do?” Cass finally asked. She heard the note of helplessness that had crept into her own tone.
“We must alert the authorities about the electrician's murder. And we must also find your sister and Celia.”
Cass set her mug down. Then she slowly glanced around the library, just as she saw the children stirring. “Doesn't it feel unnaturally still this morning?”
“Yes, it does. I noticed the moment the sun came up.” Their gazes held.
“We didn't imagine what happened last night, Antonio.”
Before he could respond, Alyssa wandered over, yawning. “Good morning, Aunt Cass.”
Cass tousled her dark hair. “Why are you up so early? It's not even seven yet, sleepyhead.”
“I don't know.” She yawned again as Eduardo hopped forward on his crutches. “Do you think they have cereal here?”
“I don't know.” Cass smiled.
“We have cereal,” Eduardo said. “Come with me. I'll show you where in the kitchen.”
Cass watched the children wander out of the room in their pajamas. When she looked away, it was to find Antonio regarding her with a strange intensity. Cass's heart skipped. What did that look signify? He said, “If Gregory will go into Pedraza to notify the police, then you and I can stay here to search for your sister. As soon as we find her, you and the children will leave.”
And Cass thought about Tracey again. A sick feeling overcame her. Fear overcame her. “I have thought about it. Isabel wants vengeance on your family because she was forced to marry Alvarado when she loved someone else, and she wants vengeance on my family because Sussex somehow used her as his political pawn.”
“‘Vengeance' is a very strong word, Cassandra. Especially when you are attributing the desire for revenge to a ghost. I just cannot draw that conclusion from what has thus far happened. What if Isabel is present, and harmless, but a madman is also present—a madman who is a murderer? That at least makes sense.”
“You saw her set that paper on fire. All that was left was ashes.” Cass shuddered at the symbolism. “And now you're forgetting all of the past. I'm beginning to think she stabbed that electrician,” Cass added, low. There. She had finally said it. She had finally uttered her very worst fears.
“Cassandra.” He was firm. “Ghosts do not murder people.”
“Maybe this one does.”
“If she is capable of murder, if she wants revenge, then why hasn't she done away with me by now?” he asked pointedly.
Cass was still, not knowing what the answer was.
“Do not tell me you think she is playing a game of cat and mouse with us, as well?”
The idea hadn't occurred to her. But now it made too much sense. “We have to find Tracey and Celia and get the hell out of here,” she cried.
He reached for her hand. Cass was acutely aware of his touch. She looked up, meeting his gaze. Neither one of them looked away.
An urgent need to be in his arms, to be held there, overwhelmed her. It wasn't the same violent, insane need she'd felt yesterday, when they had coupled like animals in her bed, just hours after her aunt's death. It wasn't violent or mindless; Cass felt how deeply she was falling in love with him, and it was stunning. She managed to tear her gaze away.
He stood up, knocking over the coffee cup, which was empty. Neither one of them noticed. Cass was motionless. Inches separated them.
“Come here,” he said roughly, and the next thing she knew, she was in his arms, and he was holding her, hard, against his tall, strong frame.
“Good morning,” Gregory said.
Cass moved away from Antonio. Hostility toward his twin surged within her.
What great timing,
she thought. And the extent of her own anger and disliking surprised her.
“So are we ready to lock up the house and go back to Madrid? We can stop and notify the police of Tracey's and Celia's disappearance, and the murder, on our way back to the city.”
Cass turned, about to protest.
“You notify the police,” Antonio told his brother. “Cassandra and I will search for Tracey and Celia. They can't have gone far. Hopefully we will find them by the time you return.”
“Are you mad?” Gregory asked in disbelief. “We should all leave now. Let the police find them. They're professionals.”
“I won't leave without Tracey and Celia,” Cass said with heat. “I am not abandoning my sister and my friend. And I am not abandoning Antonio, either.”
Gregory faced her. “Who said anything about abandonment?”
“But that's what it is,” Cass said coldly. Then she looked at Antonio. “And once we find Tracey and Celia, you're leaving, too.”
“I have work to do here,” he said firmly. “I cannot leave. Not now. Not yet.”
There
was
so much more to do there at the house, and a part of Cass more than understood him—a part of her wanted to stay behind with him. Just the two of them, working side by side, unearthing the truth about Isabel's life.
As Catherine and Eduardo had done.
“No.” Gregory was harsh. “Damn it, Antonio, that dead woman is haunting this house—and she's been here since we were children. She is evil. I am sure of it. No one should stay.”
Cass blinked at him in surprise. “You've certainly changed your tune.”
He ignored her.
Antonio folded his arms. “Did something happen, Gregory?”
Gregory was grim. “Not really.”
He was lying. Cass knew it. But why would he lie, and about what? And why did he have a glimmer of guilt in his eyes?
What was going on with him?
Cass stared. He avoided her eyes. She reminded herself that he was Antonio's brother. His twin. But appearances could be, and often were, deceiving. Still … that did not make him psychotic, a madman, a murderer.
She turned and wandered to the window, not knowing what to think. And suddenly she wondered if she should try to communicate with Isabel.
Cass blinked. She had been gazing out the window, but paying very little attention to the view. Now she stared at Gregory's car, parked some distance away, but clearly visible in profile. “Oh my God. Gregory—your car!”
Both brothers ran to her side. From what Cass could see, Gregory had two flat tires.
Suddenly chills covered her entire body—and Antonio must have had the same inkling, because simultaneously they turned and ran.
With Gregory on their heels, they raced out of the room and to the front door. The BMW was parked right in front of the house. All four tires were flat.
“Por Dios!”
Gregory cried, running around the car.”My tires have been slashed!”
Slashed.
His tires had been slashed. All
four
of them.
Cass suddenly knew. She knew before she ran to the garage. The
doors were closed, but there was a side door, which she wrenched open. And inside the garage was the Jeep, its four tires slashed, and her rental car—in the exact same condition.
Both men paused beside her.
Slashed. With force and anger, with hatred, with intent.
With an agenda.
They were stranded.
 
 
Everyone remained stunned. Cass's mind had gone numb. It was Antonio who finally spoke—after glancing beneath the hood of the Jeep. Wires were wrenched apart and mangled. “I'll have to head for town on foot,” he said grimly. “But I intend to hitch a ride.”
Cass had a horrible premonition of Antonio being waylaid by some deranged killer, waylaid and stabbed in the back. And what did all of this have to do with Isabel? Surely Antonio was right. Ghosts did not stab people, they did not slash tires or mangle wires. Whoever had done all of this was flesh and blood, a real live human being.
But Isabel had left a message on her laptop, Isabel had set fire to Eduardo's notes …
“Someone has purposefully stranded us here. Don't go. It isn't safe.” She reached for him; he did not shake her off.
Someone … or Isabel?
Cass could not help herself. Her mental calculations were subconscious—but there were four adults present at the
casa,
and two children. She did not include Tracey and Celia, who were missing. Alfonso was not strong enough to murder anyone or wreak such havoc on the cars. She trusted Antonio implicitly. She stared at Gregory, thinking,
Dear God. Is he the one? Is he psychotic?
What if he secretly hated his brother? What if he was a deranged killer hiding behind the facade of good looks, good family, and professional success? Even hiding behind the facade of Isabel herself?

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