Because You're Mine Page 13

  Barry escorted her into the emergency room, and she was quickly taken back to a room. The ultrasound showed the baby moving around with a strong heartbeat. Once she knew the baby was all right, fatigue weighed down her limbs, and she nearly fell asleep on the way home.

  “Want me to help you to bed?” Barry asked when they reached the entry hall.

  She still ached all over, and her skin throbbed from the cuts and bruises. “If you’re not minding, that would be lovely.”

  She took his hand and he supported her with one arm around her waist. The warmth of his skin penetrated her clothing and strengthened her. His strength, his steadfastness, were what she needed right now.

  He helped her up the stairs. The vertigo was disappearing, and she felt stronger by the time they reached the door to her room. Barry flipped on the light and led her to the bed, where he pulled back the covers and helped her climb in. The cool sheets that smelled of sunshine welcomed her.

  “Could you get me a washcloth?”

  He nodded, then stepped to the bathroom, and she heard water running before he returned with a warm washcloth. The bed sank as he sat on the edge by her feet and gently washed her face and arms. The hospital had tended to her cuts and scrapes, but traces of mud and grass still clung to her skin. The warmth of the water soothed her, and so did the steady grip of his hand on her ankle. Barry’s touch was growing more and more welcome to her, but she couldn’t help the feelings of guilt that welled up. Liam had been gone only a few months, and she had no business enjoying another man’s attention.

  She pulled the sheet up over her legs. “It’s a good bloke you are, Barry,” she said, her voice husky.

  He tucked the edges of the sheet around her. “You want me to stay with you? I can sit right here in the chair.”

  “You need your rest. I’m fine now. Thanks for taking such good care of me.” She caught his hand and pressed it to her cheek. He had broader hands than Liam. Square-cut nails that were well cared for. Liam’s had been jagged where he chewed them sometimes.

  Barry bent and brushed his lips across her forehead. His breath whispered over her face. “I’ll just be across the hall if you need me.”

  She smiled up at him, and he stared back with such an intense gaze that her smile faltered. The passion in his eyes made her wish she could respond the way he wanted. “See you in the morning,” she said softly.

  He retreated to the door and flipped off the light. “I’ll leave the door cracked so I can hear you if you call.”

  His footsteps faded, and loneliness enveloped her. She nearly bit her tongue with the effort not to call out to him. The cacophony of katydids and other insects intensified in the dark, and she allowed the sound to drown out her longing for companionship. She’d been a twosome so long, and she hated sleeping alone.

  Alanna moved her throbbing legs restlessly under the cool brush of the sheets. She’d never be able to sleep with that din outside. Lying in the dark with her eyes wide open, she went once more through the events leading up to the shove. Had she smelled anything, heard anything that might give a clue to the person who wanted to harm her?

  And why push her down the hillside? The fall wasn’t likely to kill her. Did someone want to frighten her away from the estate? The hatred in Patricia’s expression came back to Alanna. Could it have been Barry’s mother? His parents hadn’t come to see what the sirens meant, which seemed strange now that she thought about it.

  Maybe it hadn’t been Jesse. Alanna had been quick to jump to conclusions, but she didn’t think the shove down the hill had been a murder attempt. Once she found out why Jesse had come, she’d understand more.

  Eighteen

  The ambulance had pulled away without Alanna in it. Jesse stood in the shadows with the mosquitoes buzzing around his ears in the moist night air and watched the lights in the Blackwater mansion. He knew he should go home, but he wanted to be close to Alanna. So he hid his car in a grove of trees dripping with moss, then watched until Barry’s Mercedes returned. Curling his hands into fists, he watched Barry help Alanna inside.

  She belongs to me. That man had no right to put his hands on her.

  The minute Jesse had touched Alanna, something happened to him. An overwhelming love welled inside of him, and he had no idea where it had come from. Visions of holding her, kissing her, had flashed through his mind. He wanted her for his own.

  And in that moment, he realized he was being influenced in some way by Liam’s spirit. Possessed maybe.

  He shook his head. Maybe he was going crazy. He rubbed his head and groaned. What a nutty idea. He didn’t believe in demons or spirits, did he? But then again, how would he know? Maybe it was all part of his brain trauma.

  The lights upstairs had gone on a little while ago, then gone out again. A figure passed in front of the big front windows downstairs. Barry’s face peered out into the night, and Jesse shrank back into the shadows. He needed to get out of here before he was caught. If Barry ordered him off the property, he wouldn’t get the opportunity he needed to talk to Alanna, figure out what was happening to him.

  He thrashed through high weeds in a jagged trail to his car, parked halfway down the drive. Something slithered away in the undergrowth, but he only cared about not being seen by Barry.

  He banged his shin against the car fender in the dark, then felt his way around to the driver’s door. After half falling into the seat, he closed the door with as little noise as possible, then started the engine and backed out of the car’s hiding place with no lights. Once he emerged from the trees, the moon lit the way.

  There was no traffic on the road past the estate. He peered through the trees but couldn’t see the house from here with the live oaks blocking the view. His hands trembled on the steering wheel, and he had no idea why he was so agitated. Was it leaving Alanna behind? Or maybe this crazy sense that she belonged to him.

  He drove to the city and found himself passing by St. Michael’s again. A man in a collar stood by one of the front pillars. Before he could talk himself out of it, Jesse parked his car and got out. Belching fumes, a truck rumbled by. Jesse waited for it to disappear around a corner before he walked across the street.

  The priest was walking away from the church toward a small red car. “Excuse me,” Jesse called. “Are you the rector?”

  The man turned with a smile. “Why, no. I’m the priest for a parish in Louisiana. I’m visiting the area. Can I help you?”

  Should he talk to this fellow? The man’s blue eyes held a warm welcome in the wash of streetlight. What Jesse had to say would sound so crazy, but surely a priest could help him sort through the muddle he found himself in.

  He put his hands in his pockets. “It sounds crazy. Maybe I am crazy.”

  In his midthirties, the priest was slightly built with a shock of sandy hair. He studied Jesse’s face. “Have a seat.” He indicated a park bench along the sidewalk, then sat down and glanced up at Jesse with an interested smile.

  Why not? Jesse sat beside the priest and laced his fingers together around his knee. “What do you think happens to a man’s spirit when he dies?”

  “Is this a rhetorical question or do you have a reason for asking?”

  Jesse didn’t want to be drawn into a theological discussion. He wanted answers. “Do you believe a spirit can possess another person? Or at least bug the heck out of them?”

  The priest smiled. “Who do you believe is possessed?”

  “Me.” Jesse watched for a reaction, but the priest’s expression didn’t change. This was a waste of time.

  The man’s gaze locked with his. “What makes you believe you’re possessed?”

  “There was this car bomb. My best friend was killed, and I think his spirit or some imprint of his memory moved to me. I know things about his life. Things I could only know if part of his spirit transferred to me.”

  “I see. We usually think of possession as by a demon. Maybe your friend told you some things and you’re remembering them now.
It sounds like you were close?” The man’s voice was kind.

  Jesse grabbed onto the idea, which would be much better than being possessed by Liam’s spirit. “I’m sure my shrink would be saying the same thing.”

  “Why are you seeing a psychiatrist?”

  Jesse told him about the amnesia. “And I had some depression before the explosion.”

  “Have you told your doctor about this idea that you’re possessed?”

  Jesse shook his head. “He’d lock me up.”

  “But you’re still convinced it’s the truth?”

  Was he? His earlier certainty faded when he stared into the other man’s calm eyes. “I suppose it’s possible Liam told me some things and I’m starting to remember.” He shook his head. “Some of the things I’m remembering are feelings. How can that be? Maybe I’m just possessed by the love he had for . . . someone. Maybe his love survived death. Is that possible?”

  “Love is the greatest of all commandments. That shows the importance God puts on love. Love transcends eternity.”

  “Could Liam’s love have imprinted itself on me in the moment of his death?”

  The priest shrugged. “Some mysteries are beyond us.”

  The guy wasn’t much help. Jesse rose. “Thanks for your help.” Or lack of it. He walked across the street to his car. The priest was right about one thing. This whole situation was a mystery.

  In the darkness, pain radiated up Alanna’s legs and arms. Muscles began to protest. She should have taken a Tylenol before coming up. The pills were still downstairs on the coffee table. Barry would be quick to run and get one for her, but she didn’t want to disturb him when he’d likely nodded off already.

  Stifling a groan, she slipped from under the sheet and went to the door. The door creaked when she eased it open, and she listened to make sure she hadn’t disturbed Barry. The silent hallway assured her she was alone. Sliding her bare feet across the wood floor, she slinked down the steps, found her pills, and carried them back upstairs with a glass of water. When she reached the top of the steps, she heard something. The tinkling sound could almost be music. She put the water and pills on her dresser, then followed the music. The melody drew her down the long expanse of blackness, though she trailed her fingers along the wall in search of a switch.

  The twisting corridors reminded her of a maze. In the darkness, she lost track of which way she went and how to get back, but the melody still drew her on. Maybe it was a music box? She couldn’t determine what made the noise. No one should be in these rooms. She, Barry, and Grady occupied the bedrooms closest to the stairs. Her bare feet trod debris on the floor, and she wondered if she’d made a bad turn. At least Barry’s parents were in a totally different wing on the opposite side of the house.

  Her hand finally touched a light switch and she flipped it on. Weak light from a bare bulb in the ceiling illuminated a hallway that hadn’t seen a paintbrush or a mop in years. Wallpaper hung in strips and revealed old milk paint on the plaster walls. Scratches scarred the wood floors. Maybe this had been the servants’ quarters. The paper wasn’t the expensive sort she’d seen downstairs.

  She glanced back the way she’d come. Three hallways branched off this one. She would have difficulty in finding her way back. The melody had stopped. All the doors were shut tight but one, and it opened only a crack. She pushed on it and flipped on the light. A bare iron bedstead and a stand were the only pieces of furniture in the room. A music box sat on the stand.

  She approached the handsome wooden box and raised the lid. Goose bumps rose on her arms when the melody she remembered from her childhood tinkled out. When she’d hummed the tune to Liam, he had set it to words in “Nightsong.”

  Transfixed, she listened to the music box tinkle. The only one she’d ever seen like it had belonged to Neila. This one was a twin to her sister’s prized possession. Alanna had to have this box.

  She closed the lid and lifted the heavy box reverently. Turning to carry it back to her room, she saw someone move by the window. She gasped and peered into the draperies’ folds. “Is someone there?”

  “Just me.” Grady materialized from the shadows. “I was watching the moon on the lagoon. I thought you’d be in bed.” His normally cynical smile held sadness. “Beautiful box, isn’t it? I hope you weren’t about to take it.”

  “Just to my room so I could enjoy it. Isn’t that all right?”

  “Barry will just carry it back here. The banshee doesn’t like it to be moved. I heard her playing it tonight and came to see. Did you hear it too?”

  “I heard something,” she admitted. “That wasn’t you playing it?”

  He shook his head. “The box was open when I got here. I hoped to see her dancing around.”

  Alanna didn’t know what to think though her goose bumps returned. “You’ve seen her?”

  “Several times,” he said, his tone grudging.

  Back home in Ireland, she’d heard tales. Most who saw a banshee never lived to tell the story. A banshee was said to be a fairy, and to hear one shriek was an omen of death to one of Ireland’s five major families. She’d heard tell that banshees emigrated with their families. Was Barry’s family rooted to one of the five?

  She suppressed a shiver. “What does she look like?”

  “She wears a flowing white dress with her red hair down to her waist. She usually floats along the grass. Once I saw her sitting by the water combing her hair with a silver comb.”

  “And does she have wings?”

  “Wings?”

  “You know the legends, don’t you? When a banshee leaves, you can hear the flutter of wings.”

  “I don’t know about that. She’s beautiful, just like you. In fact, she could be you.” The cynicism was gone from his face again.

  His description matched everything she’d always heard about banshees. Alanna put the music box back on the stand. “You’re joking, righto? You’ve never really seen her.”

  “No joke. I’m sure Barry has seen her too. It’s no wonder he was determined to marry you.”

  “He married me to help me,” she said. “You mustn’t think he had any agenda.”

  Grady’s laugh held derision. “He’s sure got the wool pulled over your eyes, Alanna. I knew the minute I saw you that he would have stopped at nothing to have you.”

  She hugged herself, ready to end this conversation. “You really don’t like your brother much, do you?”

  “What’s not to like? A blue blood born to greatness who knows it. The great one bestowing favors on us peons.” He gave a bitter laugh. “Barry always gets what he wants.”

  “Sure, but it’s sad that you and your brother can’t love one another,” she said. “My sister . . .” She looked down at her bare feet peeking from the hem of her gown.

  “What about your sister?”

  “I don’t even know where she is,” Alanna said, wondering why she was telling him this. “I was taken from our mum when I was three and she was eight.” Her fingers caressed the smooth wood of the music box. “She had a box just like this one.”

  “What happened when your mother left?” he asked, his voice gentle.

  Wishing she’d never brought it up, she shrugged. “I don’t remember very much, just crying for her. The woman she left me with slapped me and told me she’d come back someday. I never saw either of them again.”

  “Maybe it’s better that way,” he said, his tone turning cynical again. “Finding out the truth might be more painful than what you’ve already survived.”

  She didn’t want to talk about it anymore, not to this young man with the orange mohawk and hooded eyes. “I’m lost. Can you be showing me the way to my room?”

  “I’m headed that way myself.” He glanced at the scrape on her arm. “What happened to you?”

  If he hadn’t been so hot and cold, she might have told him the truth. “I fell down the hill. You didn’t hear the ambulance come?”

  “I went to the bar for a few drinks and just got home. Y
ou’re okay? And the baby?”

  “We’re both fine.” She glanced at the music box again. It would be so comforting in her room. And wasn’t she the mistress of the house now? “I’ll be taking this to my room,” she said. “Barry won’t object.”

  Grady shrugged. “Suit yourself, but remember I told you so.”

  Carrying the heavy box, she followed him out the door. As she shut the door behind her, she thought she heard the flutter of wings, and a shudder went down her back.

  Silly superstition. She followed Grady through the labyrinth of corridors. “I would never find this by myself. How do you know the way?”

  “I’ve explored this old place many times.” He stopped in front of a door and rattled the locked knob. “Except for this room. Barry has it locked up tight. He won’t let anyone in it.”

  Alanna touched the cold knob. “What’s in here, do you suppose?”

  “No idea.”

  “Does he ever go inside?”

  “Nearly every night before he goes to bed.”

  Her curiosity was truly piqued now. Barry was so indulgent with her. Maybe he would allow her access.

  “Maybe he’s an ax murderer and he keeps his toys inside,” Grady said, grinning.

  She rolled her eyes. “You really do hate him, don’t you?” Still, she couldn’t help giving the door one final glance before following Grady to her bedroom.

  Nineteen

  Alanna thrust the curtains aside and allowed sunshine to stream into the room. She needed the brightness to wash away the nightmares of the night before. Every muscle in her body screamed with pain, and she hobbled as she went to the dresser. She wore a flowing skirt and loose top so nothing chafed her sore skin.

  Her fingers caressed the wood of the music box, worn smooth by the touch of so many hands over the decades. She found the winding mechanism and twisted it. The lovely strains that tinkled out made her aches disappear. She had to find out about this melody and this box. Could it possibly be the same one her sister had? And if it was, how had it come to be here in this mansion? The tune haunted her, and she wasn’t sure how to go about discovering the name of the song. Maybe Barry would know.