Chaste Kiss (26 page)

"You forget. I'm the one who believed in your imaginary friend when we were kids.” She patted her hand where it sat on the stick shift. “But when you're ready to talk, you know where I am."

"Thanks."

With the topic of William put aside, they turned their conversation to the store and its grand opening. Maybe someday she would tell her friend the unbelievable story, but not now. Not while the pain was still fresh. Then again, would she ever stop hurting?

William had watched from the attic as the little red car disappeared around the corner. It was difficult to tell how she faired during the night, but he believed she hadn't slept well by the look of her somber visage. He prayed she would one day forgive him for the pain he'd caused.

He thought more on his plan to damn his soul to Purgatory by stealthily touching Jerome, but something kept him from his task. At first he suspected ‘twas simply the thought of never seeing Isabel again that held him in this world, but the cryptic notes she had received and her belief of being watched tugged at his mind. He would stay and watch over her for a time, until he could be certain she was safe. Then perhaps he would find the strength to leave.

With her gone to work, he was free to roam the house and grounds invisibly, hoping to learn how his sweeting faired from her uncle and Constance. Finding them in the kitchen, he instantly noted the tenseness hovering in the air. Constance sat quietly peeling apples while Jerome paced back and forth in front of the large kitchen window. The man's agitation clearly apparent.

Constance dropped another apple core into the trashcan at her feet. “I just don't understand what got into the man."

"I don't know either, but I'd like to string him up for what he's done to Isabel,” Jerome said.

William's heart sank with his words. His leaving must be the topic of their discussion. Did Isabel suffer greatly from his absence?

Constance sighed. “Well, Isabel knew what she was getting into with him. You can't blame William for everything."

"I most certainly can,” Jerome growled. “If he cared for her at all, he wouldn't have run out on her."

"I think he cares a great deal. He just has other problems. She'll be all right, Jerome. She's a strong young woman. She'll get through this.” She laid down her knife and wiped her hands on the dishrag in her lap.

Jerome let out a long sigh and sank into a chair beside her. Leaning forward, he rested his forearms on his knees. “She'll bury herself in her work and cover up her pain. It'll eat her inside out, if she's not careful. The same way it did when she was little and didn't get the kind of love she deserved from her parents. I still don't think she's gotten completely over that even though Debi had been there to make things a little easier on her. I'm just not sure she can handle it again.” He solemnly studied his hands. “And I'm not completely convinced there isn't more than William that has her upset."

"There's nothing we can do unless she feels like talking about it. And she will, eventually, so don't worry.” She patted his arm. “Everything will be fine. Have faith."

He took her hand and kissed it tenderly. “What did I do all these years without you?"

"I imagine you ate all the wrong foods, never got a decent night's sleep, and grumbled like an old bear."

He smiled crookedly. “I'm in love with you, you know."

"I know."

"I don't suppose you could see yourself marrying this old bear, could you?"

"Actually, I was counting on it. I happen to love old bears."

William left the lovers as they slipped into one another's arms. There was little room for regret and jealousy in his heart as it filled with guilt for causing his beloved Isabel pain. And yet, he could not stay with her. ‘Twould be wrong to allow their relationship to continue. A relationship with no future and no true fulfillment. He had to leave her, to free her. ‘Twas the only way to save her.

Perhaps over time, she would grow to love the detective. They had become good friends, and often friends became more. It grieved him to think on such things, but he knew there would someday be another for her. There had to be. She was too special, too wonderful, to live her life alone.

Late in the evening a note and rose had appeared at the manor shortly before Isabel's return. The prose was poor, but the message clear. The stalker meant to kill her.

As Constance guided Isabel to her room, William observed from a distance. She was oblivious to the world around her, her entire body shaking with fear. For a moment, he considered making himself known to her, as she needed comforting and protecting, but alas, he could give her very little. Yet he could protect her, and he ne'er waver from his duty. If the whoreson who threatened her dared show himself, he would gladly kill him.

William maintained his vigil outside her door until he heard the detective's voice coming from the library, and made his way downstairs to listen.

"I understand your concern, Mr. Derrington, but we're doing all we can. I've got a man watching the shop and two more patrolling the grounds. There's not much else we can do until he makes his move,” the detective said.

"You're telling me you can't do a damn thing until he tries to kill my niece?” Jerome bellowed. “That's not acceptable, Detective Wise."

William agreed and wanted to rail at the man himself. What good was he, if he could not find this reprobate who tormented Isabel?

"Do you know the location of William Ashenhurst?” the detective asked.

"What does he have to do with this?"

"Just trying to keep track of all the players, Mr. Derrington."

"He left last night, and we don't know where he is,” he answered with a huff. “And if you find him, I'd like a few words with him."

"Is there a problem?"

"Yes, there's a problem, but it doesn't concern this."

"I see.” Detective Wise rose from his chair, placed his notebook in his pocket, and headed for the door. “I'll keep you informed of any new developments, Mr. Derrington, but I suggest someone stay with Miss Derrington every minute until this is over."

"I've already seen to it."

The detective nodded and left.

William could not believe his ears. The fool thought he was the stalker! What a preposterous notion? As if he could ever be a threat to Isabel.

But he had hurt her—deeply—and whatever Jerome wanted to say to him, he justly deserved. He wished he could appear before her uncle and have it out, but feared Jerome might actually attempt to strike him in his current temper, and William needed to be there for Isabel. Not needing food or rest, he could watch over her indefinitely.

Stepping outside to inspect the men patrolling the grounds, William thought more of her uncle. Jerome was a good man. A man he was honored to call friend. He was grateful she had such a person in her life, someone to be there for her, as he could not.

He made his way around to the back of the house where one of the two guards carefully checked the pool house and seemed suspicious of every leaf and flower surrounding the patio. William was pleased with this man, who appeared to know his duty. The other one, however, seemed more interested in listening to his radio, which disturbed him to no end.

As he pondered on how to right the man to his duties, Detective Wise appeared from the edge of the garden and silently stepped up behind the guard. He yanked the earpiece from the useless man's head with a forceful snap and spun him around.

"Get rid of the damn radio, Pauley, and get your mind on your job, or I'm sending you packing. Got it?"

"Yes sir.” The officer nervously tugged at his ear.

William was sorely disappointed he only received a reprimand, but found himself liking the detective somewhat as he watched him work. He did seem to truly care about Isabel. Perhaps the man loved her after all. Or mayhap he was simply doing his job. Either way, he appeared determined to protect her, and that was of the utmost importance.

The night passed without incident, and William watched Isabel leave for work the following morning. She appeared to be, once again, the strong young woman he had come to love, but he worried greatly over her safety while she was away from him. If only he could follow without being seen.

Her car disappeared down the drive, closely followed by another, when the detective's voice caught his attention. Mick Wise was having a discussion with the guards from the night before regarding the schedule for their watch the upcoming evening.

As they talked, William realized the best way to learn more about the stalker and aid in protecting Isabel would be to stay by the detective's side. The trick was getting the dagger into the man's car without anyone noticing.

"Detective Wise,” Constance called from the front door. “There's a call for you."

Dear, sweet Constance. He would have to make haste or be left behind.

As the detective made his way into the library to the telephone, William popped into the attic where he'd hidden the dagger then hurried back down the stairs. It was most frustrating not to be able to appear where he desired while holding the blade, but there was naught he could do about it.

Rounding a corner on the second floor, he nearly collided with Jerome, but luckily, his friend's nose was so deep in a book, he was not aware of a dagger flying of its own accord through the air. Quickly concealing the dagger behind a potted plant, he noticed the book his friend carried lay upside down in his hands, his mind clearly on his niece, and not on his text. Jerome moved on down the hallway, never lifting his eyes.

With the danger of discovery passed, William ran to the detective's car. He had just slipped the dagger under the floor mat in the back seat as Detective Wise came out of the house. Within minutes, they were on their way, but William knew not where. Sitting next to the detective, he examined the radio and other gadgetry. He longed to ask questions, but was resigned to sit in silence.

Turning his attention to the man beside him, he studied his profile. Not too terrible looking, he supposed, yet still he was not good enough for his Isabel. But then no man was. There did seem to be a strong bearing about the man, however. He had an honest face, albeit without expression, and a manner that spoke of chivalry. He knew he would do his best to protect Isabel, but a bit of ghostly assistance would not hurt.

The radio blared to life. Detective Wise picked up the device and responded to the call from the guard now watching Isabel. He seemed sorely agitated.

"Stay with her, Casey. I'll catch up with you at the mayor's house.” The detective returned the radio to its cradle. “Damn her.” He pounded his fist against the steering wheel. “Why doesn't she listen?"

"So you have finally received a bit of what my sweet Isabel can dole out, I see. She is a stubborn one."

Not hearing William's words as expected, Detective Wise turned the car up a long drive and climbed out. Recognizing the guard assigned to follow her, William quickly hid behind the seat, lest she would surely spy him. Good luck was with him in that it was a bright and sunny day. It would help to hinder her sight of him.

He watched from his hiding place while the detective spoke with the guard. A door closing and the click of shoes against pavement caught his attention.

"Mick, what are you doing here?” Isabel asked.

William could see the pallor of her skin and the droop in her shoulders, but she held her chin high. Even her tone was strong, but it didn't hide the fear in her eyes.

"I've got more than enough protection. You don't have to follow me too,” she grumbled.

"You're making this difficult, Isabel. I told you to stay put. Does this look like staying put?” Mick seethed.

William chuckled. Only Isabel could unnerve a man as stoic as Detective Wise.

"I have a job to do. I refuse to let this ruin my life."

"Your life is what we're talking about! Now would you please do me and the Brantley Police Department a favor, and stay either in your office or at Derrington Manor?"

At first William didn't think she would abide by the detective's wishes, but it appeared he'd gotten through to her. It would be easier to keep her safe if she didn't move about.

She sighed. “All right. I'm going back to the office now. I'll even have lunch brought in. Satisfied?"

"Yes. Let's go.” He escorted her briskly to her car.

William remained hidden as they followed her back to the shop. Once she was safely inside Derrington Antiques, the detective pulled away from the curb. William instantly felt the loss of her presence. A feeling he needed to grow accustomed to.

The day droned on as he watched Mick go about his work. Not nearly as fascinating as the detectives he'd seen on television. Far too much paperwork and other mundane tasks to tend to. Definitely not what he would choose as a profession if he were alive. Looking over the detective's shoulder as he read the latest note from the stalker, it gave him no clue as to the man's identity, or why he had chosen Isabel.

"Your destiny lies with the angels in heaven,” the detective read aloud.

William sensed his frustration. The man continuously raked his fingers through his hair and cursed quite audibly several times. The longer William remained in his presence the more he admired Mick Wise. He was devoted to his work, which meant he was devoted to protecting Isabel. Perhaps leaving her in his hands was not such a bad thing at that.

Mick's restlessness finally drove him back to his car. They rode for hours around town, looking, watching and waiting. On his fifth turn around the block where Isabel's shop stood, he parked the car. William cast a glance up to the windows of her office, but saw no sign of her.

The detective got out of the car and entered the antique shop. William decided to risk being seen or sensed by Isabel and followed.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Columbo,” the woman behind the counter said with a grin.

William did not know her at first, but quickly realized she must be Isabel's childhood friend, Debi Cummings. He'd only caught glimpses of her at the manor when they were children, never getting too close, afraid he might frighten the child. She had grown into a very intriguing woman. In his day, she would no doubt have been branded a witch with her cat-like eyes. They held a bedeviling glimmer that would have been deemed unnatural, yet he knew from experience that witches could not be identified by their appearance.