Sea Panther (Crimson Storm) (15 page)

“I don’t want to keep you from more important matters.”

“You aren’t. I’m very interested in…dreams.” Dr. Knight gave
Robert a penetrating look.

Since Kimberly couldn’t think of an out, she sat. Pleasure
sizzled when he joined her on the sofa and reached for her hand. Maybe he
wasn’t trying to hide their relationship.

The doctor leaned a tight ass against the front of her desk
and waited.

Robert smiled encouragingly.

“I’ve always had a fear of heights,” she said. “Even as a
child.”

“Many people do.” Dr. Knight slid onto the edge of the desk
and crossed one leg over a knee, giving Robert an eyeful of perfectly sculpted
legs. “Please, proceed.”

Kimberly bet the doctor exposed her assets on purpose.
Thankfully, Robert seemed unaffected. “I am verra proud of Kimberly,” he said.
“She overcame a long-held fear to climb the mast and rescued me when I got
caught in the rigging during a violent storm.”

“Indeed. How heroic.” The doctor gazed at her with more
interest than earlier. “The dream?”

“My nightmare always starts the same way.” Kimberly
nervously rubbed a hand over the fabric of her khaki twill shorts. “A strange
man chases me through the woods. The dream seems to last forever. I run until
I’m nearly exhausted and a steep ravine looms before me. In an attempt to
escape, I dash along the edge, terrified I’ll slip and fall.”

As she spoke, the doctor snatched a notebook and pen from
the side of the desk. Kimberly sneaked a peek at Robert. He gently squeezed her
hand.

“Continue,” Dr. Knight said when finished jotting in the
book.

“Well. This is where it gets weird. The man morphs into a
cougar and leaps toward me with bared teeth.” Kimberly shrugged. “That’s when I
wake up.”

She felt Robert tense.

Dr. Knight’s eyes widened. She stared at Kimberly for a
moment and then wrote furiously in the notebook. “Tell me, Miss Scot. Has the
cougar always been a part of your nightmare?”

“No…I only recently started dreaming about the big cat.”

“Do you remember when? Had anything significant happened in
your life?”

Kimberly thought back. “It occurred the first night I slept
aboard
Sea Panther
.”

Robert stared at her, his expression unreadable.

“I’ll have to give your dream careful consideration before I
interpret its significance.” Dr. Knight broke the awkward silence. She stood
and placed the notebook back on the desk.

Robert dropped Kimberly’s hand and rose. “There are a few
things I need to discuss with Dr. Knight. Do you think you can find your way
back to the main house?”

“I think so.” She jumped to her feet.

The doctor stepped closer to Robert. “I won’t keep him
long.”

The catty smile said otherwise.

A cold chill crept up Kimberly’s spine. Had Dr. Knight been
Robert’s lover?

* * *

Embarrassment and anger and jealousy battled for dominance
in Kimberly’s psyche. She shouldn’t have allowed the doctor to get under her
skin. She acted like a scared rabbit running along the wooded path from the
research facility to the house. Slowing her pace to a brisk walk, she tried to
breathe evenly.

In the garden behind the mansion, Davey sat on a bench in
the shade of an old oak swathed in Spanish moss. Guilt warred with other swirling
emotions. “How are you feeling?” she asked as she joined him.

“Much better. I’m getting lots of attention from the
ladies.” He shifted the plaster-covered arm and smiled. Blue eyes sparkled
mischievously.

“I’m sorry you got involved in my mess.”

With the unencumbered hand, he good naturedly poked her
shoulder. “No need to apologize. I would do it again given the opportunity.”

Kimberly swallowed her angst and allowed her gaze to drift
to a bed of tangerine-colored New Guinea impatiens backed by the interwoven
fan-shaped fronds of palmettos. An unusual brown and yellow swallowtail
butterfly fluttered its wings, dancing on the warm breeze.

How had she made such loyal friends in such a short time?
Kimberly’s eyes misted and she blinked several times to clear her vision before
addressing Davey. “Have you ever been here before?”

“Many times,” he said. “We stopped visiting once Dr. Knight
arrived. Not sure why.”

Several scenarios ran through Kimberly’s mind. None she
cared to ponder. “What do you know of what goes on here?”

“Panther research,” he answered too quickly.

“That’s not all though, is it?”

Davey glanced around and seemed to carefully consider an
answer. He leaned close. “You know the captain has a rare blood disease.
Right?”

R
obert sprawled
on the comfortable sofa in Dr. Knight’s office, his at-ease posture in sharp
contrast to the chaotic emotions churning within him. Kimberly dreamt of a
cougar attack. How could that be?

More likely, a Florida panther attack.

Did she subconsciously fear him? Was the animal within him
more of a danger to Kimberly than he originally thought? Or had she inherited
the
gift?
Psychic ability ran rampant in the women of his family. Even some of
the men.

He scanned the panther’s mind for animosity directed toward
Kimberly. Found none. Only a desperate yearning to mate. The animal’s
frustration was understandable. Robert had been hard ever since he met her.

“Robert?”

He started at the sharp voice, inhaled sharply and shifted
attention to the doctor. He hoped Patrice didn’t mistake the bulge in his pants
as interest in her.

As she often did, she sat across from him on top of the
desk, legs crossed, emphasizing the sexy length of her limbs. The pose didn’t
excite him, though she intended it to. Why did she bother? He’d told her
shortly after hiring her there would be no relationship between them.

“I’m surprised you hired a woman to crew on your yacht.”
Patrice’s eyes narrowed.

“She needed a job.” He refused to take the doctor’s bait.
Though, in time, he’d have to come clean with everything that happened between
him and Kimberly.

But not yet.

When he’d told Patrice about his recent illness and ability
to go out in the sun, she wanted details. He’d explained he didn’t have them.
He didn’t plan to reveal anything else about the changes within him until Dr.
Lang, the staff hematologist, finished the analysis on his blood.

“Interesting dream, don’t you think?” Patrice asked.

“Aye. ’Tis the first I heard the telling of the tale.”

“Why did you lie to her and say I’m a dream analyst?”

“She doesn’t know what I am. How would I explain an
ethnologist specializing in Caribbean Voodoo employed by a Florida panther
research foundation?” He shifted position on the sofa, disturbed by the
conversation. “She believes I have a rare blood disease. Under such
circumstances, I might very well work with a psychologist.”

“I’m curious.” Patrice studied him. “Why did you bring her
here? You’ve never allowed anyone at the facility that didn’t have personal
knowledge of your affliction. Yet you’ve brought her and the young men from
your crew to the compound. Why?”

“They are not your concern.”

She tensed for a moment then her features smoothed into a
calm mask.

He’d almost gotten past her guard. Interesting. But he
needed to steer the discussion away from Kimberly. “Have you uncovered anything
new from your research?”

“As I’ve told you before, I believe you were bitten by a
vampire. I know we’ve gone over this several times, but let’s try again. What
do you remember of the events that occurred right before your turning?”

“I certainly dinnae recall being bitten. At least not by a
man.” Robert chuckled, pretending to make light of his situation.

“I’m serious. I’ve found no record of anyone ever being
turned by anything other than the bite of another vampire.”

Robert stiffened. He needed to find a cure. A way to be
normal. He found it hard to believe another vampire bit him and he didn’t
remember. If that were the case, what chance did he have of finding a cure?

He held a hint of hope in his black heart he could become
mortal again and spend the rest of his life with Kimberly. He wanted to grow
old with her and die a happy man at a respectable age. “Are you telling me
Zola’s curse had nothing to do with turning me into a vampire?”

“No. But I don’t think the curse directly caused the
transformation.”

“What are you implying?”

“I have a theory,” Patrice declared.

“Well?” Robert stared directly at her, anticipation making
him edgy. “What is it?”

She returned the intense look with her usual unruffled gaze.
“I don’t want to get your hopes up. I need to do more research before I can be
sure. Tell me, again, everything you remember from the night you were
converted.”

Robert rubbed a hand over his forehead. He didn’t want to
relive that night of unbearable misery yet again.

“I know remembering is difficult. But I’m hoping we might
find something we’ve overlooked before. Learn of some previously thought
unimportant detail that will pull my research together and give us the answer
we need.” She leaned forward and the neckline of her blouse bulged to reveal an
ample view of her breasts. Rose-colored nipples peeked through sheer
nude-colored lace. “As you know, the magic of Voodoo has a strong basis in the
African belief system. For every good, there is an opposing evil.”

“Aye?” Robert jerked his gaze away from the enhanced
breasts, unimpressed by the blatant display of her wares. “Similar to the
Oriental concept of yin and yang?”

“Yes. So no matter how powerful the Voodoo sorcerer’s curse,
we can find a medicine man whose power is as strong or stronger and can reverse
the spell. All we need learn is what curse Zola used.”

Robert sighed heavily. “I know you are trying to help,
Patrice. However, I dread revisiting that time.”

“I could hire someone to hypnotize you. They could plant a
suggestion to forget what you’ve told us upon awakening.”

Robert sat up straight. “I dinnae want anyone else brought
on. ’Tis too dangerous. There are already too many people aware of my
condition.”

“Yet you brought your crew here.”

“I have my reasons.” He glared. How dare she question his
actions? Little did she realize the lads knew exactly what he was. Hiring Willy
had been a mistake. Aye. But the other lads were loyal without question.

Patrice held his stare for a long moment. A battle waged within
her mind, reflected in her eyes. She wanted to snap at him. Put him in what she
believed his place. Either fear or something altogether different stopped her.

“All right, lay down.” She pressed the on-button on the tape
recorder and picked up a notepad and pen. “Relax.”

Robert closed his eyes, allowing his thoughts to jerk to
that dreadful night.

“There was not a spot on my body not battered or bruised.
Laroux’s men had beaten me beyond endurance. I spent four days without food or
water in the bowels of the Frenchman’s pirate ship. I was verra weak. Why they
dragged me through the swamp was beyond my understanding. Pain wracked my
body.”

“Excellent. The swamp is a good place to start.”

He opened his eyes.
Excellent, my arse
.

Patrice jotted something in the notebook then glanced up to
encourage him to continue.

“Somewhere along the way I lost consciousness.”

“What happened when you came to?”

“I woke, free of the gag and bindings. I knelt on the dirt,
held by two of Laroux’s men. They left me, and I struggled to stand. Laroux
said something about settling our disagreement with a sword duel. I managed to
catch the saber he tossed to me. As I said, I was weak. I didn’t stand a
chance. He played with me, flaying skin with each slash of his sword. Each cut
burned with an unholy fire.”

“Tell us more about that.” Dr. Kurt Nolen, his internist,
had entered the office while Robert revealed the torment of the past.

“Like fire ants marched in the cuts.” He inclined his head
to the gangly man who plopped into a nearby chair.

“Poison. They’d probably coated the sword with a toxic
solution,” Kurt said.

“Yes,” Patrice agreed. “Continue. Tell us what happened
next.”

Robert adjusted his weight on the sofa to get more
comfortable for the rest of the tale. “Things are fuzzy. I must have passed
out. I awakened later to the sound of drums, spread eagle, lashed upright to
crossed logs.”

Kurt cringed. “A vulnerable position for a man.”

Patrice squirmed on her perch. “For a woman too.”

“’Tis when I saw Zola, Laroux’s lover, the Voodoo priestess
with her pet panther.”

“Okay. What happens next is important. Try to tell us as
much detail as you can remember,” Patrice instructed.

“Everything is real hazy. I had lost a lot of blood. And if
Kurt is right, I had poison in my system.”

“Tell us what you can,” Patrice said.

“I heard chanting. People moved in and out of my sight like
zombies. Zola held a snake in the air and said something about opening a door.
I remember the words bloodlust and true love. I truly dinnae remember anything
else said.”

“Okay. Tell us what happened after that.”

“A wind gust howled through the clearing. Everything went
crazy. ’Twas like a crimson storm. Blood everywhere.” Robert shuddered with the
memory.

“Relax. Take deep breaths.”

He took Patrice’s advice, and the doctors gave him a couple
of minutes to calm down.

“I know this is painful, but what else did you see?” Patrice
pressed.

“I am sorry, I dinnae remember anything else.”

“The memory must be so horrific you’ve blocked it from your
conscious mind,” Kurt said.

“What about your nightmares?” Patrice asked.

“Images. Darkness. A face with fangs. The panther lunging
for my throat.”

“A face with fangs? Robert, you’ve never mentioned that
before.” Patrice sounded excited.

He grimaced. “It just occurred to me.”

She glanced at her notes. Her brow wrinkled. “I think the
Voodoo priestess intended to bring about your death and spread the word you’d
been turned into a zombie. It makes sense. Zola wouldn’t want your crew to come
after her with revenge on their minds. If they believed you had become a
zombie, your superstitious crew wouldn’t search for you and they’d be more
likely to vote in a new captain and set sail right away.”

“Sounds plausible,” Robert said hesitantly, though he had
doubts, but he’d follow the theory through.

“However, I think something went wrong. The curse she used
drifted to an ancient power and summoned a vampire,” Patrice said.

Disappointment tasted bitter to Robert. “What are you
saying? There is no hope to find a cure?”

“No, I’m not saying that.” She paged through the notes. “Ah,
here it is. I believe the one thing that can save you is true love.”

True love
. Robert doubted that had anything to do
with his troubles.

“Don’t look so skeptical. I believe blood from your one true
love will break the spell.”

He laughed. He’d never been in love until he met Kimberly.
To what exactly did Patrice infer? A cure couldn’t have anything to do with
Kimberly. Could it? An uneasy sensation knotted his gut.

“Sorry. You wanted a cure.”

“Aye. A serum or something.”

“We’ll continue to try to find a blood-related antidote,”
Kurt said.

“I’ll bet Miss Scot’s dreams have a connection.” Patrice
tapped the pen against her cheek and stared at Robert. “Maybe we should test
your friend, Kimberly.”