Dead of Winter (26 page)

“Thanks, Charles, but I’m not drinking.” Before he could give back the glass, the butler marched down the hall.

Tom sniffed the fruity wine and winced. Chianti. Thankfully, wine didn’t have the same grip on him as Scotch whiskey. He set the glass on a hallway table and entered a formal sitting room with plush Victorian furniture and decorative art. The Pendleton home took up both wings of the third floor. In an adjacent room, three Cree women in servant uniforms placed silverware and plates on a cloth-covered dining table.

Tom checked his pocket watch.
What’s keeping Willow?

He explored the rest of the parlor. A grand fireplace was aglow with a bonfire inside the deep hearth. It put off so much heat he had to keep his distance. Above the mantel hung a large oil painting of Willow. She looked regal, posing in a ruby dress with a ruffled collar that went up to her chin. Her golden hair was pinned up with a lacy hat, allowing just a few ringlets to dangle in back. She was smiling. Even in the painting she resembled Beth. The likeness was uncanny. Willow had the same oval face, dimpled chin, and porcelain skin. Her eyes were a darker shade of blue, but the resemblance was enough to make Tom feel butterflies.

It’s just dinner
.

“Hello, Tom?” Willow’s voice called from some other chamber. “Tom, are you out there in the parlor?”

Confused, he looked around and saw a half-open door at the back of the parlor. It led into a hallway. “Yes, Willow. Just waiting on you to make your appearance.”

“Could you be a love and come here a moment?”

He looked back at the dining room. The servants placed a baked ham on the table along with several other side dishes. The aroma of the feast made his mouth water. “I believe dinner is being served.”

“It can wait,” Willow called back. “I could use your assistance.”

“Sure.” Sighing, Tom walked down the narrow passage that had, of all things, pink walls with a floral design. He opened a door that led into a closet overstuffed with dresses that reeked of perfume. Coughing, he closed the door. Her private chambers had so many doors, big ones and small ones. “Where are you, Willow? Are you playing hide and seek?”

“Yes.” she giggled. “Come find me.” Her voice echoed from the doorway at the end of the hall. It was partially ajar. He knocked. “Are you in here?” Tom entered a long, narrow room. Velvet curtains draped the windows. The double doors of a tall wardrobe hung open, displaying more colorful dresses and fur coats of every shade. The woman was not for want of something to wear to a ball. A four-poster bed had a red comforter with two dolls propped against plush pillows. One of the dolls was porcelain with blonde hair. The other was the Indian doll that had belonged to Zoé Lamothe.

Beside the bed sat a beauty table with a circular mirror. An assortment of makeup and brushes was displayed on the table. The room was almost dark, lit by a single glowing candle that was down to the end of its wick. In the far corner he saw several dozen jewel-like eyes reflecting the candle flame.
Great Scott!
He took a step back. There must have been a hundred dolls propped up on shelves.

“I’m in here.” Willow giggled.

He rounded a corner to a small nook, hearing the splash of water. Behind a sheer curtain, Willow was soaking in a bathtub. The outline of her head and bare shoulders was a sight to behold. Her breasts floated just above the water.

Tom turned away. “Excuse me, Ma’am. I didn’t realize you weren’t decent.”

He felt flustered. His heartbeat quickened and the excitement in his loins returned. Walking in on Lady Pendleton bathing was the last thing he expected.

“It’s okay, Tom.” She splashed water at him. “You don’t have to be so polite. I’ve been very naughty.”

Damn it, he was aroused now. He looked back at all the porcelain faces. “Uh, this is quite a doll collection.”

“I’ve been collecting my dollies since I was a little girl. They keep me company.”

Tom felt as if the pale-faced figurines were all watching him. All of them were girls in various hair colors and dresses. Some had parasols and springtime gowns, while others wore miniature fur coats.

Water splashed as Willow stood. “Could you hand me that towel?”

“Sure.” He had to turn toward her to reach for it. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her naked form through the sheer curtain. Soapy water dripped down her body. She stepped onto the rug and toweled herself off.

“I-I’ll wait outside.” He went back into the pink hall, his heart thumping.

What am I doing? I shouldn’t be in here.
Entering the boudoir of another man’s wife was just as adulterous as sleeping with her.
Christ, that’s twice today I’ve trespassed on dangerous ground.

If the officers made a surprise visit, how would he explain himself?

“Willow, I should leave.”

“No, stay. Come back in. I’m decent now.”

Tom had never felt so much lust and confusion. His body and mind were in constant battle. Which side would win depended on how much willpower he could muster. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door. Lady Pendleton was sitting at her beauty table wearing a silk robe. Her wet hair hung down in long curls around her shoulders. She smiled, gazing at him in the mirror. “I’ve been waiting a long time for you, Tom.” She sprayed perfume on her neck.

He felt himself succumbing to the fragrance of lilac and orange blossom.

95

Anika’s blade carved into the rabbit’s belly. She ripped out the entrails and put them into a stew pot. Damn the Pendletons. They had done nothing but bring misery to Anika and her people. And damn Tom Hatcher.

As she drank rum, her two dogs stared at her and whimpered.

“Makade, Ozaawi, lie down.” She waved them away. “Go on.” The dogs curled up by the stove.

Anika set down the disemboweled rabbit. She looked at her fingers, now covered in blood and hair.

I’ll never be anything more than a whore and a witch
.

The kitchen table was covered with roots, feathers, leaves, and herbs. She sprinkled a pinch of each into the pot. She put it on the stove and set the brood to boil. Then she picked up the object that gave the concoction its most power.

Willow’s white fur mitten.

96

Willow looked at her reflection in the mirror and powdered her cheeks. She could barely breathe. Her heart beat wildly, and it was more than just the magic dust coursing through her veins. The man from her dreams now stood in the doorway.

“You can enter now, Tom.” With nervous anticipation, Willow closed her eyes.
God, this is finally happening
. She hummed, waiting for her lover to step up behind her and place his hands on her shoulders. She had dreamed this moment for so many nights, she had memorized the sequence. His footsteps approached her from behind, the wood creaking at the weight of his shoes. And then he was directly behind her, breathing, his very presence tingling the back of Willow’s neck. Fingers sifted through her wet hair, caressing her scalp, pulling lightly at the roots. His lips pressed against her temple, moving down her cheek to her ear. His heated breath sent ripples of excitement up her chest. As his trail of kisses found their way to her lips, melting into them, his hand slid down into her robe and cupped her breast, squeezing it gently and pinching the nipple. Pleasure and pain. Loving and wicked. He kissed her neck, while both hands fondled her breasts. She leaned back against him, moaning, surrendering fully to his touch. Then he guided her to her feet, so light now she was floating, turning to face him. He slid her robe off her shoulders, admiring the curves and contours of her body as her silk draping brushed down her skin and fell to the floor. She stood before him, baring her naked soul, vulnerable, and never more eager to be taken. Her lover picked her up and carried her to the bed, laid her on her back on the soft velvet spread, her head sinking into the pillows. She pushed Maggie and Noël beneath the pillows, so they wouldn’t see what grownups do. In that moment, the man’s gentlemanly patience ended, and he proceeded to ravish Willow like a barbarian.

That was how
the dream
went.

When Willow realized Tom hadn’t touched her yet, her eyes snapped open. He was no longer in the mirror’s reflection. Her heart skipped. “Tom!”

“Over here.” He was sitting on her bed, holding the Indian doll in his lap.

“What are you doing way over there, love, when I’m right here?” Willow smiled and let her robe fall slightly, baring her shoulder.

“Willow, I can’t go where it appears we are headed.”

“Why not?”

“I could give you a number of reasons, but mainly it’s just not right to sleep with another man’s wife.”

“Well, it’s a bit too late for that, don’t you think?”

“Willow, listen to me. If you were a single lady, the situation might be different. But you are spoken for.”

“Avery doesn’t care about me. We don’t even sleep in the same bed anymore.” Willow sat on the bed next to him. “I want
you
, Tom. I have since the day you arrived.” She ran her fingers through his hair, tried to kiss him, but Tom turned his head.

“No, don’t. If your husband finds out, he will fire me and send me packing.”

“I would go with you. Montréal, London, anywhere you want to go.” Willow fastened her arms around his waist. “Please, Tom, you must feel the same about me. I could feel it in your kiss today. Tell me you desire me.”

“I wish I could say it was you I had feelings for.”

She pinched her eyebrows together. “What do you mean?”

“This morning, when I kissed you… I wasn’t in the right frame of mind.” He took a deep breath. “I’ve thought about this all day and decided…the only reason I have feelings for you is because you remind me of my late wife.”

Willow blinked, suddenly confused. She leaned away from him. “Your wife!”

Tom nodded. “She passed away two years ago. I’m still not over her.”

“But wait, you kissed me. You held me in your arms.”

“I do feel attraction for you,” he said, gazing directly into her eyes now. “But it’s just lust, nothing deeper. And I’m not about to risk your marriage or my career to satisfy a physical craving. In the end we would both regret it.”

“No, you’re bloody wrong, Tom, it was love. I could feel it.”

“I’m sorry, Willow. For me, it wasn’t.”

The room began spinning, the doll faces circling them as if they were on a merry-go-round that was whirling out of control. A rush of fiery anger torched her chest. “Blast you!” She released a deep growl. “How dare you lead me on?” She pounded her fists against Tom’s chest. He gripped her wrists, fending off her blows. “Willow, stop.”

Tears rimmed her eyes. Her rage turned to sadness as her last chance at happiness was dissipated. He started to rise. She gripped his arm. “Please, Tom, don’t go.” She opened her robe, placing his hand on her breast. “I can pretend to be your wife if that’s what you want. I don’t care if it’s lust or love. Just take me.”

“No.” He stood, releasing himself from her clutches. “I’m sorry, Willow. I’m going to pass on dinner.”

“Then get out, you blasted fool!” She threw pillows at him. Then she hurled figurines and jewelry boxes from her curio cabinet. In her blind fury, she grabbed the nearest object. Her favorite doll smashed against the threshold, shattering porcelain fragments across the floor.

As the man of her dreams left her boudoir, Willow cried into her pillow. Her chest ached, caving in on itself, crushing her heart. Tom was supposed to be the one to rescue her from this godforsaken prison.

She picked up the Indian doll. “You promised me he would come!”

Then she heard a chorus of whispering voices, just like in her dreams. All her dolls spun around Willow as if her bed were a merry-go-round. Through the Indian doll chanted Zoé’s voice,
He’s coming, Willow, he’s coming, he’s coming, he’s coming…

97

Tom left Noble House before anyone could question his early departure. Halfway to his cabin, he stopped at the well house in the courtyard. He leaned against the cold stone wall. He was shaking. His heart beat high up in his throat.

I never should have entered her private chambers.

Tom feared the repercussions of his actions. This far out from civilization, the only laws were the ones made by Avery Pendleton. If Tom disappeared or was found dead out in the woods, who would question how it happened? Who would even notice that Tom was gone? He had no family.

I have to maintain discipline and pray Willow keeps everything secret.

He thought of Anika. Even she had seduced Tom into bed.
I’ve been such a fool.
He tightened his fist until the shaking ceased.
Remember why you came to Fort Pendleton. To uncover the truth behind all the deaths and disappearances. Don’t lose sight of that.
No more whiskey or women. Inspector Hatcher marched toward his cabin with a newfound conviction.

98

Anika tossed the white mitten onto her workbench. She sat down at her table, staring forward. Her hands, covered in blood, twigs, and fur, wouldn’t stop shaking.

She had nearly crossed a line that even her grandmother wouldn’t cross.

As she was about to summon a trickster to torment Willow, Anika remembered Grandmother Spotted Owl’s warning about summoning spirits. “When you conjure a trickster for a favor, the day will come when the trickster demands a favor from you.”

Those words stopped Anika from completing the ceremony.

I am not a witch. Nor am I a whore. Just a foolish drunk.
She gazed at the flask on the table. Made from a buffalo horn, it had been a gift from her uncle. And a curse for Anika. It carried the rum that made her drunk each night. It made her think evil thoughts and want to do bad things. Made her a slave to the white man, just like it did all her people.
 

“Firewater is nothing but a trickster,” her grandmother had said. “It will eat you from the inside out if you let it.”

Anika admired how Tom had stopped drinking. He had made a promise to Chris. That had made Tom stronger.
Maybe I should make a promise to someone,
thought Anika. She clutched the prayer bundle that hung around her neck.