When Lily Kline takes possession of a Gothic estate with Ian Hawke, her co-heir and a stranger, she soon realizes there is more than meets the eye within the many corridors of the sequestered mansion.
Ian is aloof and even hostile at times, and thou...
She blinked and squinted in the harsh slivers of sunlight beaming down on her. The twisted tangled branches high above stretched up to the sky; some of them barren, others covered in bronze and russet leaves.
She groaned and sat up, rubbing the goose egg on the back of her head. How long had she been unconscious? It was daylight now—had she lain on the forest floor the entire night long?
She climbed the embankment and found the trail again. Up ahead, visible now in the sunlight, the gargoyles were perched in their usual places with orbs in hand. She went to the first one, touching its head. It was solid and cold. Marble. She turned around. Ian's workshop was in the distance behind her, the lights off. She didn't remember reaching it, let alone passing it, but perhaps in the darkness she'd walked right by it. Had she tripped over the same blasted root again and dreamed the entire series of events? She looked at her knuckles and touched her cheek. Perfectly normal.
A man's form appeared from behind the workshop.
Ian.
"Lily! I've been searching everywhere for you—" He closed the space between them and folded her in his arms brusquely.
She stood stiffly in his engulfing embrace, half delirious and confused. His heart was racing against her chest. "I'm s-sorry," she said, fighting tears as nightmarish memories played over and over in her mind's eye.
It must have all been a dream as she'd lain there unconscious. It had to be—otherwise, how could her hands and face be free of injury?
"I must've fallen," she said. "Hit my head pretty darn good." She touched her fingers to the tender swollen area behind her ear. "I had the strangest dream, too."
He held her at arm's length then, studying her face—fine lines about his eyes. She was chilled to the bone and his warm palms fairly burned her triceps.
She shivered involuntarily and he wrapped his strong arm around her waist, providing ample support as they walked together down the trail to the backyard.
When they reached the mansion, a fretting Hannah put her to bed, insisting that she rest until the headache was gone.
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When Lily's eyes fluttered open a couple of hours later, it was to find Ian sitting in a ladder-back chair next to her bed, his head hung low. Instead of being disturbed, she was pleased to see him. He seemed to sense her gaze and she greeted him cheerfully when he looked up. He was wearing an open-necked black pullover sweater and gray jeans, his short hair spiked on top.
"I brought you brunch," he said, smiling. "Oatmeal and buttered scones." He rose from the chair and retrieved a legged tray that was perched atop the chest of drawers.
"Oh, that's so kind of you," she said, letting him prop the pillows behind her so she could sit up.
He settled the tray over her lap and sat down again in the chair next to her bed. "How are you feeling?" he asked, eyes wider than usual. So this was what he looked like when he wasn't brooding.
