Compulsion (30 page)

“You do know Cassie asking for a ride isn’t about her needing to get ready for the play, don’t you?” he whispered
into Barrie’s ear. “She wants you to go back with her to search again.”

“Permission to come aboard?” Cassie called from beside the boat. A second later the top of her head appeared at the ladder. “I’m not interrupting, am I?”

“And there’s my cue to cool off before I tear her apart.” Eight swooped in, gave Barrie a quick kiss, and did a cannonball off the side of the boat into frighteningly shallow water.

Barrie held her breath until he came up shaking his head, spattering sunburst drops of water everywhere. It was the same way he’d shaken himself the first time—no, the second time—Barrie had ever seen him. That felt like a lifetime ago, and as good as he’d looked to her then, he looked a thousand times better now.

She settled herself and pulled on her cover-up while he climbed back into the boat and went to get the anchor. Partway there, he stopped suddenly to study Cassie, making no attempt to disguise the fact that he was reading her. Then he rubbed the bridge of his nose and shook his head. Barrie figured she might as well get it over with. She leaned back and watched as Cassie came and sat beside her.

“This was fun, wasn’t it?” Cassie dug a tube of gloss out of her bag and offered it to Barrie, who shook her head, before shrugging and applying it to her lips. “It’s not really my crowd, but maybe next time Beth and Gilly can come.”

Barrie exchanged a look with Eight.

“I was thinking,” Cassie continued, twirling the gloss between her fingers, “that we could maybe go back over and have you try the Watson gift again, since we were interrupted last night. Daddy’s out with the fishing boat tonight, and he won’t be home until after nine, so the timing is kind of perfect, if you come right now. You wouldn’t run into him.” She gave a smiling, embarrassed little shrug. “I wouldn’t ask, but you saw how everyone was today. They treat me differently than they treat you and Eight. But if we could find the treasure, they would finally see us like we matter. Daddy could rebuild the old house, and we wouldn’t always have to feel like we aren’t good enough. . . . You see that, don’t you?” She leaned toward Barrie and put a hand on her arm.

Barrie stared at the floor of the boat. The rocking motion churned her stomach as Eight got under way. She looked longingly at the seat beside him, trying to think how to answer Cassie. Because she still hadn’t decided. She stood up as Cassie dug for something else in her bag.

“I need to think about it,” she said.

“What’s there to think about? I swear, Daddy won’t be there. I promise.”

“Don’t push me, all right? Now excuse me. I need to go tell Eight something.” She went and sat beside him before Cassie could say any more.

“I take it she asked you.” Eight kept his voice soft. “What did you tell her?”

“Nothing yet. What did she want just now, when you read her?”

“You wouldn’t believe it if I told you, trust me. You know, this whole afternoon has been surreal. Cassie talked baseball to me the whole time you were dancing. In her own way, she really made an effort.”

“Baseball?” Barrie wrinkled her nose, happy to talk about anything but Cassie.

“Not a passion of yours?” Eight laughed at the expression on her face. “I can see I’m going to have to convert you before I leave for school. I can’t possibly date a nonbeliever.”

“Baseball wasn’t a religion, last I checked. And who says we’re dating?”

“Do you kiss many guys you aren’t dating?”

“Not many, no.”

“Are you intentionally trying to pick a fight?” Eight leaned in closer. “Nice try, but it doesn’t get you out of telling me what you plan to say to Cassie.”

Barrie smoothed the fabric of her dress across her knees. “I don’t think I have a choice. You know she’s not going to stop asking until I show her what’s there. To be honest, I’m not sure
I
would stop asking if I were in her shoes. It shouldn’t take me long, though, and Wyatt’s out until late tonight.”

Eight steadied the boat so Barrie could jump out. “I’m not going to argue with you,” he said.

“There’s a first.” Barrie kept hold of his hand until her feet were firmly back on the Watson dock. She closed her eyes in relief, and the shadows danced around her, grabbing at her dress as if they were vying for her attention. She ignored them and glanced back at Cassie, who was still rowing downstream from the Beaufort dock back to Colesworth Place. “You didn’t have to brush her off so obviously, by the way. It
would
have made more sense to drop me here first.”

“I didn’t want to be alone with her any more than you want me to be alone with her.”

Barrie adjusted the bag on her shoulder and looked away. “Are you sure there isn’t a history between you two I need
to know about? Something’s different between yesterday and today.”

“You and I are different.” His eyebrow quirked at her in a way that was maddening and sexy all at once.

“Okay, and what does that have to do with Cassie? Wait. Why are you looking at me like I’m as dumb as a box of rocks?”

He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. “You are awfully cute when you’re clueless, Bear. Let me spell it out for you. The curse makes Cassie want what we want. So . . .”

“She’s interested in you because
I’m
interested?” Appalled, Barrie watched Cassie climb out of the rowboat and tie it off at the dock beneath the columns. “You’re saying she doesn’t have a choice?”

“I don’t know exactly how it works. I do know you need to hurry up if you’re going to be back here in half an hour. I’m not going to let you risk having Wyatt catch you over there.”

“
Let
me? Hold on, buster—”

“That didn’t come out right.” Eight held his hand up in surrender. “What I meant to say was: I’m going to call the harbor and make sure someone lets us know the second Wyatt is coming back with the boat, so we have time to avoid him. If you’ll go put on your reasonable shoes and do whatever else you need to do, I’ll be back to pick you up.”

“Were you born this bossy, or is it something you cultivate? Because seriously, it’s not your most attractive quality.”

“I’m going along with your crazy scheme, and you’re calling me bossy?” Eight gave her a mournful shake of his head. “You pick a mean fight, Bear. But I’m a Beaufort, remember? I know what you really want.” Tightening his arms, he bent his head and kissed her, briefly at first, but even as he started to pull away, he seemed to change his mind and deepened the kiss instead. Barrie wound her fingers in his hair as his hands moved to cup her face. His eyes were dark and dilated when he finally pulled away. “I’ll tell you a secret,” he said. “This all scares me, too.” Without looking at her again, he jumped back into the boat and grasped the rudder.

Barrie watched the boat slip away. His words, the fact that her migraine was gone, and the relief of being back at Watson’s Landing all rolled through her with a rush and made her almost giddy. Her feet quickened to a run, and she raced the shadows toward the house. Mary was clearly afraid of them, but Barrie didn’t find them sinister. They seemed more like naughty children playing pranks. In an odd way, they were even comforting.

Letting herself into the kitchen, Barrie nearly barreled into Mary, who was carrying a three-tiered serving dish loaded with miniature tarts, scones with butter and jam, and
sliced cucumber sandwiches. A scone bounced onto the floor. Mary pushed everything else back in order.

“I’m so sorry.” Barrie retrieved the scone and wondered what to do with it.

“Throw it away. I’ll get another one.” Mary’s lips thinned, and she looked Barrie up and down. “It’s ’bout time you got back. I heard you were runnin’ round with that Colesworth girl again. Nothin’ good is goin’ to come of that. And you’re makin’ your aunt crazy. She’s been holed up in the attic all afternoon.”

Great. Guilt. Because Barrie didn’t have enough of that.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I know I haven’t been here much. But I can’t stay to talk. I’ve got to go back out again.”

She tossed the scone into the trash and hurried out of the kitchen toward the stairs. The corridor was brighter than normal, with a sharp beam of sunlight falling through the open library door and leaving a rectangular patch on the floorboards.

The library. Lula’s letters. God, Barrie had forgotten about them again. Forgotten them all day.

How could she have been so stupid? She stopped on the threshold with a twist of dread.

The room smelled of rubbing alcohol and vinegar, and the windows were newly sparkling. And of course the top of the desk was empty.

Barrie sagged against the doorframe. The distractions were no excuse. Pru must have been shocked to find and read the letters—and she would know Barrie had found them first and not given them to her. Not even mentioned them.

Unless Mary had found them. But what were the odds she wouldn’t have given them to Pru? And Mary hadn’t seemed upset.

On the off chance Mary might have put the letters away, Barrie searched the desk drawers anyway, and checked the floor in case they had fallen. Knowing it was hopeless, she fumbled inside the secret compartment. Then she startled Mary out of six years of her life by bursting back into the kitchen.

“Did you go into the library today?” she demanded.

Hand on her chest, Mary peered at her as if Barrie had lost her mind. “Now why would I be goin’ in there, child?”

Crap.
Poor Pru.

Barrie took the stairs two at a time, without having a clue what she was going to say to her aunt.

Really, what could she say? All she could do now was to listen, provide comfort, and let Pru vent. As awful as she felt, the damage was already done. Wouldn’t giving Pru a chance to talk about her feelings only stir them up again? Obviously that would have to happen at some point, but Barrie couldn’t leave with Eight if Pru was an emotional mess. And once Pru
had read those first two letters, the chances of her ever letting Barrie go to Colesworth Place were slim to when-ice-cubes-froze-in-hell.

Barrie slowed when she reached the second floor, and she continued up the next flight of stairs on tiptoes. She wasn’t sure what she expected to hear. Sobs? Tantrums? That would have made her decision easier—she couldn’t leave Pru alone like that. But listening at the attic door, she heard only silence.

Deciding to let Pru be, she backed quietly away. Creeping to the second floor, she retreated to her room, wishing she could just lock the door and stay there. Forever. Because all of this? Dealing with history and secrets and the mess of moving into a brand-new life was like diving headfirst into a garbage disposal. Her emotions were being shredded.

Crossing to the armoire, she threw down her bag and tugged the tank dress over her head. After digging out a top and shorts, she turned toward the bathroom. A purple-and-orange FedEx envelope stood propped against the pillow sham on the bed. The package Mark had been excited about. Another thing Barrie had completely forgotten.

She threw on her clothes and yanked a brush through the snarls in her hair. The girl in the bathroom mirror stared back at her, unaccustomedly tanned and wild, dressed without an ounce of style. Barrie could practically hear Mark asking her what she was doing, what she was
thinking
. There was nothing
about herself she recognized anymore. She stalked back to the desk, snapped Mark’s watch back onto her wrist, and pulled the necklace Lula had given her over her head.

Screw Wyatt—or anyone—if they thought she was showing off. Wyatt’s jealousy had made her not wear the two things that were most important to her. She wasn’t going to change the way she acted for anyone anymore. And she was full-up on guilt. Jealousy, hers and Cassie’s, had made her hurt Pru today. From now on, she wasn’t letting herself get distracted from what was important.

She picked up the FedEx envelope from the bed and tore off the pull strip to find a sketchbook inside. Not one of her own sketchbooks. This one was old and yellowed, filled with drawings of Watson’s Landing executed in a bold, intensely emotional style. Drawings of the house from the long oak lane, drawings of the lane itself and the reflective strip of river flanked by marsh grass, drawings of Beaufort Hall perched like a crown on the hill, and the Watson woods lit by fire and moonlight. The sketches were so alive. They made Barrie feel the sway of the dock and the spray of the fountain. She could almost smell the shrimp and grits cooking in the kitchen, and imagine trailing her fingers over the architectural details in the carved wood paneling, fleurs-de-lis and roses, leaves and the faces of strange bearded gods.

There were studies of Pru as well. Many of them. A
different Pru, younger and carefree, racing up from the dock with a Seven who looked more like Eight. Pru and Seven holding hands, looking at each other instead of where they were going. Looking at each other as if they would never stop looking. Despite the fact that Emmett had hated the Beauforts. Despite the fact that they could never be together.

Pru and Seven had missed out on a life together because of Lula. Because of Emmett.