Falling In (12 page)

A watery chuckle rose in her chest. She could hear her mother's voice telling her it was the hat of a famous sea captain and he'd be sad if she didn't wear it with pride. She was so full of crap. That was when her mom still acted like a mom, before Scout started calling her Pearl.

Even when she went to the tracks and talked with Pearl, she still left missing her mom. Scout hated what drugs had done to her. She'd never come back to her and every day she loved her it hurt a little more.

Scout hugged the drawing to her chest and carefully folded it back up. It was tearing where the creases were. She should find tape and fix it before it fell apart. After tucking the picture back in her bag, she lay down. The heavy covers warmed her body, but she shivered anyway.

Faces swirled behind her closed eyes. Parker and Pearl and Deborah and the scary man from the shelter. She thought about the crying baby she'd heard the other night.

Her mind randomly recalled a conversation she'd had with a nursing mother several years ago. The mother had told Scout that her body had become so malnourished that she could no longer produce milk. Scout hated when that woman was at the shelter. Her infant would scream all night long. Every cry cut through her like a hot blade, and she'd never been so furious or felt so helpless. Scout wanted to help that starving baby and she couldn't. She hated when that woman was at the shelter, but Scout hated when she left more because she never knew what happened to her or that baby.

That was her life, people coming and going and no one sticking around long enough to ever depend on. She had been the one afraid to depend on Parker, afraid to call him friend. But now she was the one abandoning him. Would he hate her for leaving him? If he left her she'd never forgive him. It was a complicated thing, her way of thinking. She hated letting people in, but once she did and she began to care for them she never wanted to let them go.

Chapter 13

Rooks and Voyeurs

A sharp, shrill alarm sounded and Scout jerked upright. Instinctively, she reached for her bag as the alarm sounded again.

Fire?

Her eyes landed on her unfamiliar surroundings and she remembered she was in the hotel, and the annoying sound that had woken her was coming from the phone. She leaned over and answered it.

“Hello?”

“Get dressed. Something casual, but nice. Meet me out front in thirty minutes.”

Scout wiped her eyes and scowled. She was still angry from last night. “Where are we going?”

“It's a surprise. Thirty minutes.” Lucian said and hung up in her ear.

She replaced the phone and glared at it. After a few minutes of refusing to move, eventually she gave in and went to take a shower.

She dressed in a pair of fitted jeans and knee-high boots. The boots, although heeled, offered more support than the pumps. Finding a soft corded sweater the color of rust, she slipped that over a lace brown camisole.

Katelyn had given her a dainty bag full of makeup the day before, and Scout sorted through the little tubes and compacts for some magic quick fix that wasn't there. Locating the mascara, she pulled out the black wand. Her eyes flickered rapidly as she tried to swab her lashes with the goopy stuff. When she finished, she wasn't pleased. Her eyes looked startling.
Witch eyes.
She tossed it back in the bag and found some powder.

There were ten different brushes. Selecting a fluffy large one to use with the powder, she dabbed the compact. Blending was a talent that took skill she lacked. Growing frustrated, she grabbed the clear gloss, slathered it over her lips, and left.

Her hair was still damp, so she twisted it into a bun as she waited for the elevator. Scout wasn't sure how she'd treat Lucian today. Part of her wanted to hurt him the way he had hurt her, but another part of her missed the way they'd been that first night. And then there was the part of her that constantly reminded her she shouldn't care that much.

There was no paying him back for the things he had given her, and her stubbornness refused to allow her to bow out at this point. If she let people like Lucian intimidate her, she'd never make it in the real world.

Squaring her shoulders, she stepped off the elevator. The lobby was politely hushed as people checked in and out. She could smell the restaurant and wondered if they'd ever dine there.

As soon as she stepped outside she recognized Dugan. She pulled the lapels of her camel coat tight against the wind and took the red runner toward the limo.

“Ms. Keats,” he greeted and opened the door for her.

“Good morning, Dugan.” She slid into the warmth of the car. Lucian was waiting for her. Folding the newspaper he was reading, he inspected her from head to toe.

“Your hair's wet.”

“And my eyes are blue. Where are we going?”

He didn't appreciate her comment. “It's November, Evelyn. Do you enjoy pneumonia?”

“Not particularly, but you didn't leave me much choice with your demands for promptness.”

He looked back at his paper. “I can see this morning will be full of your charming wit.”

The limo pulled away from the curb, and they rode in silence. The sound of newspaper pages turning interrupted the stillness of the ride every few minutes. The city rolled by quietly, buffeted by the sleek glass of the car, and appearing somewhat artificial.

“Care to read a section of the paper?” Lucian asked.

“No, thank you.”

“We need to stop by my office before we get to where we're going.”

Scout nodded her understanding.

“I plan on introducing you to some colleagues this morning, Evelyn.”

“You're working?”

“I'm always working.”

They arrived at a tall building in a section of the city she wasn't familiar with. The door of the limo opened and Lucian climbed out. She scooted over toward the door to follow when he turned and said, “I shouldn't be more than ten minutes.” The door shut in her face.

Scout spent the time snooping around the limo and testing each button. She found an apple in a small refrigerated compartment and ate it. She wasn't sure what to do with the core, so she wrapped it in a napkin and held it in her lap.

When she found the radio, her fingers rolled the dial until locating a station that wasn't fuzzy. Accidentally pressing the wrong button, the music cut off and a grinding sound came on.

“Crap.” She panicked, but a second later music came on again. There must be a CD in the player somewhere.

Soft, jazzy-sounding vocals filled the limo. Sitting back, she listened, realizing the words were being sung in a different language, but it was still nice. Her booted feet tapped as she waited for Lucian.

Finally the door opened and she spotted Lucian exiting the building with a stack of papers in his hands. His strides were confident and people seemed to defer to him. He climbed into the limo and smiled.

“Now we can go.”

As Dugan drove she noticed the buildings grow farther and farther apart and the sidewalks become less populated with people. The denseness of Folsom eased and suddenly there were houses and grass and then they were speeding along a raised section of highway.

“Are we still in Folsom?”

“No.”

Panic filled her as they left the city she had never been outside of. She felt powerless as if she were being whisked away without choice. A sense of getting lost choked her as her world slipped farther and farther out of view, until the tall skyscrapers she'd grown up under were nothing more than specks along the horizon.

“Evelyn?”

She didn't want to turn away from the remaining view of the city, fearing if she lost sight of it she'd never find her way back home.

“Evelyn, what's the matter?”

“You didn't tell me we were leaving the city.”

“Does it matter? We'll be back by tonight.” His words only slightly reassured her. “Come here.”

She jerked her gaze from the window and faced him. His papers were all neatly tucked away in a briefcase and he patted the space beside him on the bench seat. Hesitantly, she looked back out the window one last time and moved to his side.

His fingers undid the buttons of her coat and slid it off her shoulders. “You're tense.” His thumbs pressed into the back of her neck and rubbed in firm, but gentle circles. Her shoulders slowly relaxed as he soothed the tension out of her muscles.

His touch moved up to her bun and tentatively turned the knot of hair.

“Take this out.”

Her fingers unraveled the rubber band and her hair uncoiled down her back.

“I prefer your hair down.”

Fingers sifted through the brunette strands, parting and separating the long locks over her shoulders. Her hair was different since she'd had it cut, softer, smoother at the ends. Lucian continued to play with her hair until he'd coaxed her into leaning into his shoulder. His fingertips delicately traced whorls over her collarbone. It was nice.

The music played and they fell into a much more welcome silence than how the ride had started out.

“I want you to spend the night with me tonight, Evelyn.”

She prided herself on hiding any physical reaction to his words. “Okay.”

“I've thought about Vivian's cryptic warning and decided there's no use postponing the inevitable.” She silently agreed with him.

“I assume by your presence that you still consent to our agreement.”

“I won't back out,” she assured him.

“Good.”

They arrived at a tall iron gate that opened to a sprawling lawn. As the limousine eased slowly uphill, an enormous home came into view. It was pale yellow with rounded soffits and a terracotta roof. She moved to sit up a little straighter, and Lucian released the hold he'd kept on her for the majority of the drive.

“Is this somebody's house?”

“Yes. Mine.”

She looked back at him and found honesty in his gaze.

“Do you like it?” There was a hint of vulnerability in the question, nearly hidden, but making him seem more human, less godlike.

“It's the size of a hotel.”

“This one's all mine.”

They parked at the curve of a cul-de-sac outside a six-bay garage. It occurred to her that she never considered much of Lucian's life outside of the city, outside of Patras Hotel for that matter. She suddenly had a terrible thought.

“Lucian?” When he didn't hear her rasp she forced herself to speak a little louder. “Lucian?”

He faced her.

“Do you have a family?”

His expression shuttered. “I have sisters and a father.”

Scout relaxed, but needed to make completely sure. “Have you ever been married?”

She could not do this if there was another woman. If she was the
other
woman.

“There's no one else, Evelyn. I've been single for quite some time.”

It was obvious by his tone and the set of his features no other questions were welcomed. He climbed out of the car the moment Dugan opened the door. She breathed a sigh of relief. After a few deep breaths, she followed.

They walked up to a set of Gothic French doors that opened before they crossed the top step. A young woman, wearing the same dove gray gown that housekeeping wore at the hotel, held the heavy wooden door as they stepped through.

“Good morning, Mr. Patras.”

Lucian removed Scout's coat and heaped the heavy wool into the maid's arms. “Good morning, Lucy. Have my guests arrived?”

“They're in the library, sir. Breakfast will be served in the dining room. Would you like me to escort your guests there?”

He undid the large buttons of his coat. “That won't be necessary. Please send coffee to the library. We'll eat in a bit. Come on, Evelyn.”

Scout still held her apple wrapped in a napkin. She looked down and at the maid. She couldn't ask her to take her half-eaten apple core. Holding it low by her hip, she hoped no one would notice and followed Lucian, keeping her eyes peeled for a trash can.

The house was like a museum. Every step echoed and she was very aware of her prattling steps in the wake of his much surer paces. There was a long winding staircase made of white marble, and shutters on the inside of the windows that lined the upper floor. It was like a courtyard, but inside. Vines and bright botanical plants filled corners, and mosaic vases topped random side tables.

They approached a set of pocket doors, and masculine voices boomed as Lucian slid them apart.

“Gentlemen.”

“Ah, here he is. Lucian, I was just telling Slade how I took you to the bank on the course the other day,” a man with startling green eyes, golden curls, and rosy skin announced.

His gaze fell on Scout and she looked down.

“My, my, who's this?” He stepped in front of her and offered his hand. “Shamus Callahan. My friends call me James or Jamie.”

That was a mouthful. She took his proffered hand. “Nice to meet you. I'm Scout.”

James smiled. “Scout? What a unique name.” He laughed pleasantly. “It takes a lot for a man named Shamus to say that.”

Lucian stepped to her side and placed his palm at her back. “This is Evelyn Keats. She's a friend of mine from Patras Hotel.”

The dark-haired man standing behind Jamie made no attempt to introduce himself. He had blue eyes and striking skin. Darker than Lucian's, his complexion was the color of warm caramel. His observant blue eyes studied her with such intensity that she fought the urge to cover herself.

“Slade, I see you made it out of the city in one piece,” Lucian said as Lucy returned with a tray of coffee.

“It isn't good for my constitution to be this far out in the country.”

“This is hardly the country,” Lucian mumbled as he doctored up two mugs and handed her one. “And it never bothered you before. Time to get on with life, my friend.”

Cradling it close to her chest, Scout stepped back from the men. She wanted to slip away, but thought it would be rude to take a seat before everyone else.

The coffee was sweeter than she usually had it. She didn't take her coffee a certain way though. When it was offered, she simply took.

“If I can't spot a cab on every corner, I've left my comfort zone. Are you planning on feeding us?”

Lucian laughed. She hadn't heard him laugh often and when he did, she savored it. She felt herself smiling beside him.

“Come on, James, I guess we better take this to the dining room before our fragile friend here faints from hunger.”

Everyone replaced their barely touched coffees on the silver tray and exited the room. It struck Scout as blatantly wasteful, but also gave her a chance to ditch her apple core.

The men walked ahead of her and talked quickly of people and things she had no clue about. When they reached the dining room a man, also in familiar Patras livery but without the nametag, pulled out a chair for her.

Plates of steaming eggs, bacon, and toast were brought out. A brightly colored bowl of fruit was placed at the corner of her placemat. There were bright green cuts of fruit, slices of something peach tinged with red, and bright pink berries. It was very exotic.

The men discussed business as she focused on her meal. She realized she had a problem with eating past the feeling of fullness, but it would be a shame to waste such fine food.

“Well, you can sure put away a meal,” Jamie commented with a grin and Scout blushed, aborting the last of her toast. “I can't imagine where you're hiding it. Such a little thing, you are.”

“Don't be rude, James,” Slade grumbled. She turned and found his sharp blue eyes analyzing her again.

Scout frowned uncomfortably. He looked at her like he knew her, but that was impossible. She would have remembered.

“Do you want some more, Evelyn?” Lucian embarrassed her by asking.