The Bear King's Captive: Curvy Paranormal Shape Shifter Romance (17 page)

THIRTY-ONE

Hannes opened the door leading into the house and vanished inside. Leah hurried to catch up with Winston. A small mudroom off to the right contained a washer and dryer and a long oak bench sitting along the wall. A matching shelf above the bench held a couple of knit hats, gloves and a blue plastic container with a picture of a washing machine on it.

Winston passed under the arched opening connecting to the next room. Staying close behind him, Leah looked to her left and noted a flight of stairs hooking to the right, halfway up.

Another step and Leah’s jaw dropped open. In a twenty-by-twenty-foot room, a gourmet kitchen straight from Heaven sat in front of her. All appliances gleamed in stainless steel, from the eight-burner gas stove, to the individual freezer and refrigerator. Hannes’ coat lay on a black and brown countertop bar. Leah scratched her head. “Winston, I thought you said no one has lived here for years.”

Winston stood in front of a cabinet flanking the side of the gas stove. Above the stove, a three-foot window overlooked the side yard and driveway. He set a bag on the counter, turned and walked toward her. “No one has since Hannes’ mother passed.” He extended his hand. “May I have your jacket?”

Leah unzipped her featherweight coat and handed it over. “Then how can this kitchen look so clean and new?” She stepped forward and slid her hand along the glossy granite.

“This kitchen was the last room the missus remodeled.” His voiced faded when he entered the mudroom. “She did not use it often. It is clean due to Hannes’ ample, twenty-four-hour notice of a holiday.”

Leah smiled at the sarcasm tainting Winston’s words. He walked back into the kitchen. “In the nonexistent time I had to prepare for this trip, I hired a cleaning service to do as much as they could with the kitchen and bedrooms.” Winston opened the freezer doors and rummaged inside.

On the other side of the granite bar, five seat-backed stools separated the kitchen from a round four-chair breakfast table. Intricately detailed floor-to-ceiling oak cabinets stretched along the far wall.

She passed the breakfast area and under an arch leading into the formal dining. Leah stood in awe. An elegant, eighteen-seat, dark wood dining table stretched to the large front widows looking over the side lawn and the trees beyond. Antique crystal chandeliers dangled over each end of the table.

Crossing under the next archway, Leah floated into a room extending the full width of the house. White sheets draped over scores of furniture pieces, giving the room a ghostly atmosphere. Little light came through the boarded-up front picture windows, leaving most of the massive room in complete darkness.

Leah stayed in the illumination from the distant kitchen glow. A few feet into the room, the wall at her side angled down, becoming the base to the grandest staircase she had ever seen outside of Gone with the Wind.

Lush red velvet covered steps, braced with sweeping dark banisters, climbed to the second floor, narrowing as they soared into obscurity. She peeked around the far side of the stairwell. Another archway guarded the entrance to the other half of the house. With no light from the kitchen, the hallway should’ve been dark, but a sliver of light lit the hall floor.

Curiosity pulled her to a partly opened door. On the other side, a black square lamp lit the corner of an imposing cherry wood desk with hand-carved intricacies cut into the edges.

She lightly pushed the door open and peeked in. Floor to ceiling shelves packed with books, antiques, and artwork lined the wall behind the desk. The earthy scent of old leather and parchment brought to mind a dusty archive room in an old city library full of forgotten history.

Her sight traveled the width of the shelves to the far side of the room. In front of the windows, Hannes stood among memories, ghosts, and beloved family treasures he hadn’t seen or touched in years. His fingers glided across a short stack of books on a sofa table. He stepped behind a worn leather chair and rubbed his hands across the headrest.

His body created a sleek silhouette against the burgeoning east sun. Intermittent light filtering through the dense trees illuminated his face. Heartache and happiness in his eyes revealed a hidden softness.

She envisioned her palm gliding along his strong jaw line highlighted by the dawning glow. Her fingers stroked through his sandy blond hair. Powerful arms held her against his solid chest while he greedily devoured her lips and neck. A wayward hand slid down the small of her back, pressing her against his hardness.

Leah stepped backward into the hall until she felt the wood wall behind her. Her heart pounded and hands trembled. What was wrong with her? She had to be ungodly insane, or desperate, to think about a toughened fugitive that way. He was not one of the good guys. She could never give her heart to a man who killed for a living.

THIRTY-TWO

Leah sat on a stool along the kitchen bar. Propping her elbow on the counter, she laid her head on her hand and watched Winston rummage through cabinets.

Her eyes slowly closed, and her head slipped off her hand, jerking her awake. Shaking her head, she grabbed the newspaper sitting on the counter next to her. A cryptic headline dominated the page. The picture under the headline showed an older teenage girl crying and hugging a woman--probably her mom. “Winston, what does this say?”

He glanced her way. “Abducted girl found. A seventeen-year-old girl, taken from her home a few months ago, has been found. It appears her much older former beau would not take no for an answer.”

She stared at the picture. “What would you say if he kept her in a safe place and took care of her?”

“I would insist he release the child to her family.”

“What if she didn’t have a family and was old enough to live on her own?”

“Same thing. He took her from her home, where she belongs.”

“What if he refused to let her go?”

“Then I would do whatever it took to free her.”

“Even kill the guy?”

“If he was a threat, then yes.”

“What if she wanted to stay?”

Winston turned from the cupboard and looked at her. “That would be a different situation. Why are you asking such odd questions?”

She looked away and shrugged. “Just making conversation to stay awake.”

“If you are tired, feel free to retire to your room.” Winston closed the cabinet door.

Leah popped up her head. “My room?”

“Of course, your room. With a master suite, butler’s quarters, and three bedrooms, do you think any of us need to share a room? I think not.”

“Would you kindly tell me how to find my room?” Leah hopped off the stool.

Winston walked past her. “Follow me, child.”

She followed, but could’ve done without “child.” He led her through the dining room into the formal living room and up the grandiose staircase. Leah wanted to run her hand along the shiny, thick banisters, but since Winston wasn’t, she wouldn’t either.              

When they reached the top, a sparkling chandelier dangling over the stairwell came to life. Breathless, Leah gazed at it directly overhead. “Wow. That’s gorgeous. How did it come on?”

Winston cocked his eyebrow and glanced at her. “You have undoubtedly heard of motion detectors.”

Leah nodded. “Cool. Yes. Where’s the sensor?” She searched the walls.

Winston cleared his throat. “Actually, there is not one. I just asked if you had heard of them.” He pointed to a small switch on the top stair spindle. “This light requires you to flip the switch.”

Leah scrunched her brows and looked down at the discreet switch in the center of the wood. She cocked her head, giving him a sideways glance.

Winston burst into laughter. “I am so sorry, but it has been a long time since I have played that on someone.” Laughing heartily, he put his hand on his chest. “That was one of the missus’s favorite jokes. Of course, back then, motion sensors were state of the art technology.”

Leah rolled her eyes.

Taking deep breaths, Winston settled down. “I must apologize. No more jocular antics from here on out. I promise.” With raised brows, he looked down on her. “But we do have a secret passage.”

Leah perked up. “Really, where?”

He turned to the right and opened the only door on that side of the stairs. “If I were to tell you, it would not be secret, would it?” He flipped the light switch and stepped into the room. Leah rolled her eyes again and sighed. She wasn’t sure if she preferred a comedic Brit or grouchy Fin.

When she walked into the room, she drew in a deep breath. Her hand brushed over carved details in a walnut-stained chest of drawers. She gazed at the soaring ceiling with another sparkling chandelier hanging in the center.

Directly in front of her, a queen-size four-poster bed every little girl dreamed of waited for its young princess to return. Yards of pink silk draped from a circular hanger attached to the ceiling. A myriad of fluffy pillows, stacked from the wrought iron headboard to the center of the bed, adorned the faded pink duvet cover.

Winston reentered the room from a side door. “This was Hannes’ younger sister’s room. Of course, she has not been here in many years, but the missus always wanted everything ready for any granddaughter who might visit one day. The sheets and pillows are freshly laundered.”

He motioned to the small door he just closed. “The loo is clean and the room is prepared.” He stepped next to the chest of drawers and laid his hand on a lace runner spread over the top. “You will find sleeping attire in the chest. If you need another blanket, the wardrobe should contain several.”

Winston stepped into the hall. “If you need anything else, I will be on the opposite side of that.” He pointed to the wall ten feet back from the top of the stairs. “Of course, you will have to go up the stairs in the kitchen to get to my quarters. Also, feel free to browse the rooms across the hall and let me know if one is more to your liking. I will immediately transfer your…belongings.”

Leah thanked him and closed the door. Images of everything she’d seen and touched spun like a whirlwind in her head. She looked at the chest of drawers.

Sleeping attire? Were Hannes’ sister’s or a “granddaughter’s” clothes still in there? She was afraid to look, but curiosity overruled.

Pulling open the top drawer, she saw several pairs of new socks and undergarments in her size sealed in their original wrapping. She closed the drawer and slid open the next. Brand new nightgowns and PJs filled the space. They all had a “cutesy” factor: lace trim, ruffles, and pink flowers. But they were better than her current two-day-old jeans and shirt.

Leah rubbed her dry eyes and yawned. She pulled out a cotton flannel nightgown. Never had she worn sleeping attire like this. Her hand glided along the soft cream material. Holding the gown out in front of her, she looked down at the big ruffle on the bottom. The long sleeves ended with elastic at the wrists, making the ends pleat.             

After changing, she dragged herself onto the massive bed, scooted the pillows out of her way, and crawled into the slick sheets. Her head sank deep into the goose-down pillow. She could stay here forever, well, at least until Hannes made his decision on what he was going to do with her.

THIRTY-THREE

Leah opened her eyes and looked around the room. Pink material flowed down the left side of the bed. She imagined all sides hanging free, hiding her and a lover in a cocoon of secrecy while they explored and discovered each other. She grimaced and threw off the covers. She needed to get a life outside her romance novels.

Her stomach growled. The last time she ate was on the plane. She’d take a quick shower then rifle through what the kitchen pantry stored.

She traipsed to the window and opened the heavy curtain. The house cast a long shadow toward the tree line. Holy cow! How late was it? She must have slept twelve hours. She shuffled into the room behind door number two and flipped the light switch.

She looked around the room and winced. Faded flowery wallpaper lined the entire space. Turquoise tile lay on a diagonal across the floor. The washbasin, an old but elegant cherry wood cabinet, housed a white, drop-in sink. At least the toilet looked in decent running order.

Something was missing, though. She turned to the side and stared at the wall three feet away. No bathtub or shower.

She pulled a toothbrush and small tube of paste from its wrapper, brushed her teeth then splashed water on her face. She’d ask Winston where the shower was hidden. Maybe they had to share one. That put a bad taste in her mouth.

Opening the bedroom door, Leah glanced across the way at the three doors lining the far wall. One of those must be a bathroom.

She rounded the banister, flipped up the light switch on the stair spindle, and opened the middle door. Same bathroom layout as hers: no tub, no shower. How did people bathe here?

In her cotton-ruffled nightgown, Leah trudged downstairs in search of Winston. When she reached the kitchen threshold, the aroma of frying bacon made her mouth water.

Winston stood by the stove, in conversation with someone she couldn’t see. “…her sense of humor is better than yours.”

With a sandwich in hand, Hannes sat at the round breakfast table against the wall. A thick pile of papers lay scattered in front of him. He looked up. “Well, it’s about time. I thought you might be dead.”

Leah sneered. “Like I’m going to make it that easy for you.”

He puffed at her and turned back to his papers. He looked sharp in a dark blue button down shirt tucked into casual khakis. He looked damn good in clothes. She squashed the thought of what he looked like out of them.

Leah climbed onto the last barstool, putting her back to Hannes. Watching the graceful man in the kitchen, she asked, “Winston, can I help with anything?”

Hannes answered, “No. He’s doing fine.”

Leah rolled her eyes but didn’t look at Hannes. “Is your name Winston? I didn’t think so.”

Hannes grabbed his sandwich and papers and grumbled something about eating in the library. Leah watched him leave the room. Under her breath, she mumbled, “Ass.”

Standing in front of the eight-burner stove, Winston lifted the last few bacon pieces from the skillet and set them on a plate. He grabbed a metal container sitting on the counter and placed it in the middle of the stove. He raised the skillet and poured the bacon grease into the container.

Leah raised her brow. “What are you doing?”

Winston glanced at her then back to the pan. “I’m pouring the bacon grease into a container for use later.”

She wrinkled her nose. “What would you use it for?”

He laid the pan on the stove. “You can use it for several things.” Pausing, he stared at the container for a few seconds then smiled. He placed the lid on top and returned the container to its original spot. “One of the most useful purposes is to protect your skin when out in our torturous weather.”

Leah rolled her eyes. “Yeah, whatever. Play another joke on the new girl.”

He snapped a paper towel off the roll and blotted the bacon pieces on the plate. “Really. Scientific data exists. You can look it up. The fat conglomerates in mammal grease solidify, creating a solid shield against the blistering cold wind. For over a hundred years, lumberjacks have coated their faces to ward off frostbite.”

Leah sat back and crossed her arms. She studied his set mouth and serious eyes. “Why haven’t I heard of that before?”

“Where do you live and for how long?” He opened a bag of handmade bread and sliced a couple of pieces.

“In California, United States, and since I was eleven.”

Winston shrugged his shoulders. “That is precisely why you have not heard of such a thing. How terrible or long are winters in California?”

“What winter? I haven’t seen snow since I left…my parent’s home.”

He walked to the counter and slid a plate with a bacon sandwich on it to her. She stared down at it. “That’s for me?”

“Of course it is for you. I was going to wrap and keep it in the refrigerator until you awoke. But now you are up.”

Leah’s heart softened. No one had ever done something like this for her, without being asked to first. “Thank you. That’s very considerate.” She took a bite.

He turned toward the stove. “Not all of us in this house are asses.”

She almost choked. “I didn’t mean ass, ass. I meant…never mind.” Biting into her sandwich, her cheeks warmed. He busted her and there wasn’t a thing she could say.

The shower! She almost forgot why she came down in the first place. “Winston, am I not looking in the right place or are there no tubs or showers upstairs?”

He carried a stack of dishes to the dishwasher. “You are correct, miss. There are no showers in the guest bedrooms upstairs.”

Leah put her sandwich on the plate. “First, please call me Leah. Second, how did people take baths without tubs or showers?”

Winston cleared his throat. “The concept of showers in every bathroom is a relatively new concept for some Europeans. Except for a certain country with the abbreviation U.S., many people are not compulsively obsessed with the notion one must take a shower or two every day. Here, one has a sauna instead.”

Leah raised her brows. “A sauna? A steam room where people get sweaty and smelly?”

“Well, yes, but it is not as repulsive as it seems to you. The Finnish see it as much more than a steam room.” Winston walked around the end of the bar and sat at the breakfast table. Leah grabbed her sandwich and plate and pulled a seat next to him.

Winston cleared his throat. “This, child, is your first lesson about living in Finland. The sauna cleanses and heals the body, soothes the mind and unwinds the soul. In bygone years, the sauna was revered as a place to treat illnesses, as well as to bathe.”

Leah grinned and lowered her voice “Does everyone sit around in the buff?”

Winston raised his brow and looked down at her. “The general procedure is to fully undress. The Finnish do not view nudity the same as Americans do.”

Under her breath, Leah mumbled, “If they’re men, they do.”

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“Nothing. Go on. I’m still listening for the part where I’m taking a bath.”

“Very well. To initiate the sweat, you throw water onto hot rocks resting on top of a heating stove. This causes the water to vaporize quickly, resulting in a humid and hot room.”

“How hot does it get?”

“Normal temperature is at least sixty degrees Celsius, usually much higher.”

“Let’s see that would be…” she translated the numbers into a temperature she could understand. “Holy crapoli! 150 degrees--are you people insane?”

Winston looked at her with disdain. “I would never joke about something so important to a people’s identity.”

Leah straightened in her chair. Crap. She didn’t mean to offend him.

Lowering his chin and winking, Winston immediately softened. “But I have been known to play a practical joke or two.” He stood and collected Leah’s plate.

She let out a deep breath. Another enemy is the last thing she needed. But her original question remained. “So, how am I going to take a bath? Do I have to do this sauna tradition? I’ll use the sink before I sit in a melting room.”

He chuckled. “Of course not, child.” He winked at her again. “There is a shower and garden tub in the master suite. The missus added it several years ago.”

Leah slapped her palm on her forehead. “You could have told me in the beginning.”

He smiled. “Then I would not have been able to teach you about Finnish ways and customs. Also, Hannes has taken up the master suite.”

Leah hung her head. She wasn’t about to go anywhere he might be, especially a shower. “You’ll just have to get used to my body odor.”

He laughed and returned to the dishwasher. “There is work I need to do in the library. Can you find something to occupy your time until dinner?”

Leah gazed through the window into the side yard. Several inches of pristine snow blanketed the ground. She smiled. “I think I can find something.”