The Wells Brothers: Luke (19 page)

Moving quietly to the door, Luke
closed it before moving across to the bed and going onto his hands and knees,
lifting up the bedspread to call softly to Duchess.

Mikki jumped when he suddenly
lurched back, shock on his face.  “What?  What is it?  What’s wrong?”

“Jesus.”  He had a hand on his
chest, lowering it with an astonished expression on his face.  “I could swear…”

“What?”  Anxiously, she moved
across to him, but he stopped her with a raised hand.  “Luke,
what
?  Is
she all right?”

He shook his head.

Immediately her heart clenched. 
“No!  What’s happened to her?  Is she hurt?”

“Settle down, Red, she’s fine. 
That’s not what I meant.”  He took a deep breath.  “Just stay there.”  He lowered
back onto his hands.

Like hell she was staying there
when he was freaked about something, besides, it was only little Duchess and if
something had happened to her Mikki sure as hell wanted to get to her quickly.

Dropping to her hands and knees
opposite Luke, she lifted the bedspread at the same time he did, earning her a
fleeting scowl from him which she ignored.  Peering underneath, she caught a
glimpse of Duchess at the head of the bed looking back at her bright-eyed, then
her attention was caught by something behind the kitten peering back at them.  Two
somethings, in fact, and after a quick start she relaxed.  “Is that all?”

“Is that all?” Luke repeated
incredulously.  “I looked under the bed and there was something staring back at
me.”

“Yeah, I can see that looking at a
reflection of yourself would be scary.”

“How was I to know someone had parked
a bloody mirror against the wall under the bed?”

Mikki grinned.  “Did you think it
was your doppelganger under there?”

“I don’t even know what a doppelganger
is, nor do I want to.”

“Poor Lukey-boy.”

“Wipe that smirk off your face,
Red, or I’ll do it for you.”

That only made her laughing.

“Later,” he promised with a delicious
darkness that had her loins tingling in anticipation.  “When there’s no one
ready to burst into the room and interrupt us.”

“Promises, promises.”

“Bet your sweet little arse.”  Dropping
to his belly, he wiggled partially under the bed.  “Now focus, we have a wild
cat to catch.”

The wild cat in question peered back
at them out of wide, blue eyes and gave a tiny meow.

“Poor baby,” Mikki cooed to the
kitten, sliding under the bed shoulder-to-shoulder beside Luke.  “Come on
sweetie, come to mumma.”

Luke made kissy sounds, which only
made her giggle and earn her another scowl.  “Lady, you are begging for a
smacking.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t
keep,” she dared him.

“You think I won’t keep it?”

Anyone who knew a Wells man was
more than aware of the fact that not one of them would ever lay a hand on a
woman in punishment, so she made big eyes at him.

Shaking his head, he rubbed his
fingers on the grubby, worn carpet.  “Come on kitty, come to Lukey.  Come on, beautiful,
I won’t hurt you.”

“Is this how you cajoled all your
previous girlfriends?” Mikki couldn’t help but ask.  “I always wondered.”

He glanced sideways, his eyes
gleaming with suppressed amusement and a touch of sin.  “I have better ways of
cajoling, baby.”  Then he yelped, all seduction forgotten as Duchess leaped on
his hand and bit his finger.  “Holy crap!”

“Don’t be such a sook.”  Quick as
a flash, Mikki reached out and snagged the kitten’s scruff.  “Yes!”  Duchess
gave a token wriggle then went limp as Mikki pulled her gently to her, giving
her a little smooch between the soft little ears.  “Aw, you cutie.”

Luke gave his finger an
exaggerated suck.  “I think she hit an artery.”

“You’re such a dick.”

“Oh, keep talking sweet to me,
Mikki.”

“Idiot.”

“You’re turning me on.”

Grinning, she started wriggling
backwards.

Luke vanished back from beside her
quickly, and she squeaked when his two big hands landed on her hips.  “Here,
Red, let me give you a hand.”  She gasped as one big palm rubbed her derriere,
slid between her thighs.  “Oops, slipped.”

Heat rushed through her, along
with mortification.  Cripes, she hoped she didn’t cream her panties enough for
him to notice.  “Luke, stop it!”

Daringly, wickedly, he cupped her
womanhood.  “Stop shifting, baby, I’m trying to hold you.”

“Not like that!”

Duchess wiggled.

Breathlessly, she started to move
her arm back, holding the kitten firmly.  “Here, take Duchess, you pervert,
before she gets away.”

“Why would she get away?  Are you
having trouble holding her?”  Luke flexed his hand against Mikki’s womanhood.

“Shit!”

“Tsk.  Mind your language, Red,
you’ve got an impressionable young ‘un who can hear you.”  His hand disappeared
from between her thighs, making her sag and feel disappointed all at once. 
“Here, reach back and give her to me.  Really, Mik, you need to stop reading
dirty things into innocent helping gestures.”

Rolling her eyes, she started to
pull her shoulders free from under the bed, only to catch a glimpse of
something behind the mirror.  Stopping, she squinted her eyes, trying to make
it out.  What was it?

A hand hooked into the waistband
of her slacks and hauled her right out from under the bed with ease.  Rolling
onto her back to prop up onto her elbows, she frowned up at a grinning Luke. 
“Hope you get a hernia from that.”

“Sweetest hernia I’ll ever get.” 
He winked.

She flipped him the bird awkwardly
from her position.

Immediately he placed one finger
across the kitten’s eyes.  “Not in front of the baby, honey.”

“You are
such
a dick.” 
Unable to help laughing, she held up one hand.  “Here, let me try to give you
another hernia.”

Without hesitation he reached
down, grabbed her hand and helped her up, giving her a tug the last bit so that
she stumbled into him, using his grip to keep her arm behind her as he pulled
her into him.

Pressed against him, looking up
into his smiling face, her breath caught at the tenderness that slid through
his eyes.

“Red,” he said softly, “stop with
the hints of you being big.”

Her cheeks flushed, her mouth
opening to deny it even though it was true, but he didn’t give her a chance to
lie.

Leaning down, he placed his
forehead against hers, looked deeply into her eyes, and stated simply, “You’re
perfect just the way you are.”  And, while still looking at her, he added,
“This bloody cat is trying to chew my nipple off.”

That had her give a choked laugh,
mostly because she was both touched by his words and the truth in his eyes, and
tickled at the rueful humour that suddenly accompanied his wince as he pulled
back.  Looking down, she saw the kitten between them, the claws on one little
paw hooked in his shirt as she used her mouth to yank on a loose thread in his
t-shirt.  Yep, it was perilously close to his nipple.

Looking up at him, she arched a
brow and breathed, “Poor Lukey.”  Then, placing her palm directly over his
nipple, she massaged, rewarded by the sensation of the little nub pebbling
against her palm.  Gazing seductively up at him from beneath lowered eyelashes,
she smiled.  “Better?”

Going by the hot look in his eyes,
the slight flush in his cheekbones, and the way he pressed his hips against
her, it was more than better, but whatever he was about to say or do was halted
by the door swinging open and Elspeth sweeping inside with Wally right behind
her.  “Did you find her?  Oh, there she is!”

Mikki pulled out of Luke’s arms,
he turning to hand the kitten to Elspeth who snuggled her against her minuscule
bosom and cooed sweet nothings to the kitten, while Wally gave Luke the
jaundiced eye.

Oops, looked like the butler-to-be
had an inkling just what they were doing so close together, especially when he turned
that disapproving look onto her.

Stepping back beside her, Luke
bent down enough to mutter out of the side of his mouth, “Congrats, Red, you’ve
joined me on his shit list.”

Feeling distinctly uncomfortable
beneath Wally’s censorious eyeballing, she walked to the head of the four
poster bed.  “Here, help me move this.”

“Why?”

“Because I saw something under
it.”

“The mirror?”  Luke walked around
to the other side of the bed.

“No, something behind the mirror.”

Placing his hands at the top of
the bed, Mikki doing the same on her side, they both tugged, the heavy old bed
shifting a few inches.  Putting more effort into it, they managed to shift it
enough for her to climb onto the bed and slide her hand down behind it. 
Searching around, she felt the mirror, slid her hand behind it and found the
object.

“It’s a book of some kind.” 
Grabbing onto it, she pulled it out, coming up onto her knees to hold it up. 
Dusty, a distinctly unpleasant smell coming from it, she opened it up to see
spidery handwriting creeping across the pages.  “Looks like a diary of some kind.”

Getting off the bed, she stood
while everyone gathered around behind her.  Curiously, she flipped through the
pages.  “It is a dairy.  See the entry dates?  And I reckon it was written by a
man.”

“How do you figure that?” Luke
queried.

“Because women were taught to
write elegantly in those days.”

“So were men.  Haven’t you seen
some of the handwritten stuff from history?”

Elspeth looked at Luke with
renewed respect.  “You’ve studied it, sweetie?”

“Nah.  Seen it in movies.”

Respect turned to amusement.  Unconcerned,
he shrugged.

Opening the front of the cover,
Mikki read the name inscribed in faded print.  “Wilford Willock.”

Wally looked eager.  “Wilford was
the last owner of the mansion.”

“He must have kept a diary.”
Elspeth wiggled her fingers to entertain Duchess lying upside down in her arm.

“Women kept diaries,” Luke said. 
“Men kept journals.”  When everyone just looked at him, he added, “What?  I’m
just saying.”

Opening to the first page, Mikki
studied the faded writing.  “It’s not an easy scrawl to read.”

“Anything exciting?” Elspeth
asked.  “Secrets?  Fornication?  Illicit affairs?”

Lips pinching disapprovingly, Wally
wisely kept silent.

“Let’s see.”  Moving her finger
across the page, Mikki read a few lines in silence before her eyebrows shot upwards. 
“Geez, here’s a secret.”

“Oohh, do tell.”  Elspeth peered
over her shoulder.

“There are no secrets in Willock Mansion,” Wally said stiffly.  “The gentlemen and ladies of the day were strictly
well behaved.”

“Yeah?” Mikki said gleefully. 
“Well, one of those gentlemen was having it off with a married woman.”

Wally’s lips pinched tighter.  “It
must be a very old journal.”

Luke poked her gently in the
side.  “Come on, who was it?  Who was boffing the married sheila?”

“No one else but our very own Wilford
Willock.”  Mikki grinned up at Luke.  “And he wasn’t boffing the married
housemaid, but one of the wealthier married women in town.”

“Just goes to show,” Elspeth
mused, “even hermits have secrets.”

Luke waggled his eyebrows at
Wally.  “Looks like Willock Mansion hid a sordid little secret after all, Wal.”

Wally’s expression was distinctly unfriendly. 
“It’s Wally.”

Holding up the wriggling kitten,
Elspeth announced, “I’m starving and so is this little mite.  Let’s go down to
the kitchen for a cuppa and afternoon tea.  Mikki,” she glanced at her, “you’re
filthy from crawling on the floor, and Luke,” she slid her gaze to him, “so are
you.  I’d advise you to both clean up before you join us.”

Mikki looked down at her shirt. 
Grime clung to it.  “Ugh.”  Now that it was brought to her attention she could
smell the faint odour of mouldering linen and carpet, her nose wrinkling in
distaste.

As they walked from the room she
couldn’t help but notice Wally cast the journal several glances.  Knowing his
pride in his ancestors serving the master of the mansion, she couldn’t help but
feel a little sorry for him.  No one wanted their ideals to be destroyed, and
she had no doubt he’d rather she’d never discovered the journal.

Still, she was going to see if she
could find out just with whom their eccentric hermit had been having an
adulterous affair.  For sure, it would shed some light on the pervious 
mysterious owner of Willock Mansion.

Chapter 7

Walking into the library was
almost déjà vu.  Anna stood at the desk not really interested in Mikki, her
gaze on the computer in front of her as though she were deciding the world’s
fate.

Good thing she wasn’t, it would
have brought an ice age.

“Just a minute,” Anna said a
trifle coldly.

Obviously she knew who it was by
either looking out the corner of her eye, seeing Mikki’s reflection in the
glass wall behind her, or by some satanic ritual she’d performed in the early
hours of the waning moon.

Mikki spent a pleasant five
minutes wondering if Anna did the full naked dance around the clearing before
summoning a demon - which was probably her doppelganger.

Oohh, Mikki, way to be a bitch.

Grinning, she drummed her fingers
soundlessly on her thigh while gazing around the big room.  Aisles of books,
old photos on the wall depicting the town as it had been over the years,
showing the progress from bustles to miniskirts and back down to the maxi
dress.  Fashion, she mused, could only go so far, and then it had to turn
around…or go weird.  Like some of those clothes in the fashion shows.  Seriously,
who would wear that except an acid-tripping space girl in a sci-fi movie?

The sound of a throat clearing
brought her out of her reflections, and she turned around to find Anna standing
behind her as though she’d been waiting for hours.

“Hi,” Mikki said brightly. 
“Remember me?”

“Yes,” Anna replied frostily.

Mikki didn’t miss the glance she
gave behind Mikki.  Undoubtedly she was hoping for a glimpse of Luke, but she’d
left him back at the mansion with Elspeth going through the piles of photos
he’d photocopied from the books.  The last she’d seen, they’d had their heads
together, each with a pencil in their hands as they discussed ideas and made
lines and scribbles across two sheets of paper that had started with identical
outlines on them but were now covered with question marks, names of flowers and
plants, and the odd drawing of who-knew-what.  Elspeth had given her an absent
hand wave while Luke had tossed her a wink.

“Ahem.”  Anna raised her
eyebrows.  “You wanted something?”

“Oh yeah.”  Drawing her mind back
from the memory of the wicked promise in that wink, Mikki pulled the old journal
from the plastic bag.

Anna’s nose wrinkled.  “What is
that awful smell?”

“Sorry.”  Mikki smiled a little
ruefully.  “It’s this.”  She waggled the journal.

“And what, precisely, are you
doing bringing that awful smelling book into my library?”

“I found it at the Willock mansion.”

Anna looked at the journal.

“It was Wilford Willock’s.”

“That?”

“Yep.”  Mikki nodded.

“You think that old journal
belonged to Wilford Willock?”

“It has his name in the front.” 
Mikki opened the cover and held it out to Anna, who instinctively stepped back
from the dubious smell released anew before she moved forward and peered at the
name inscribed inside of the front cover.  “See?”

“Okay.”  Anna rested her hands on
the desktop.  “Why are you bringing it here?  Shouldn’t you take it to the
museum?”

“No.”

Anna sighed.

“My aunt bought the mansion and
whatever was in it belongs to her.”  Mikki slid the book back into the plastic
bag.  “That includes this journal.”

With a very put-upon sigh of
resignation, the librarian surveyed Mikki.

“I’m here to see if you have any
books on the people of this town,” Mikki explained.

“Uh huh.”

Ignoring the bored tone, Miki
continued, “Specifically the wealthier town members.  I’m sure you have old
newspaper articles, some books?”

“And this links with…” Anna
gestured almost distastefully to the bag.  “That mouldy old book?”

Geez, and she called herself a
librarian.  Weren’t they supposed to love books and history and stuff?  “There
are people mentioned in here that I’m curious about.”

“I doubt they’d be very
interesting.”

Wow, if she thought like that
about the previous inhabitants of this town no wonder she felt trapped here. 
Then again, she probably didn’t have any idea of who had been boinking who in
the past.  Mikki winked.  “Sometimes the past can be racy.”

“Racy.”

“Did you know that history is full
of adulterers?”

Obviously having heard enough, Anna
walked out from behind the desk and led Mikki to the back of the library, indicating
a computer on a small table.  “A lot of the old newspapers have been scanned
and put on there.  I’ll bring it up for you.”  Sitting gracefully, she started
to click away on the keyboard.  “Do you know who you’re looking for in
particular?”

“Not really.”  Mikki placed the
plastic bag holding the journal on the floor, careful to ensure it was folded
over so the smell didn’t seep out to contaminate the air.  It really was a bit
gross.

“What era?”

“Willock’s time.”

Using the mouse, Anna clicked into
a file, into another and finally a third before relinquishing the seat.  “There
you go.  If you want to print out copies, bring them to the desk to pay.”

“Thanks.”

With a last distasteful glance at
the plastic bag, Anna walked off.

Rubbing her hands gleefully, Miki
opened the first file.  Time to start digging into the scandalous past of the
town.

It didn’t take long to find out
that there wasn’t much scandal, or if there was, it was covered up.  Probably
money spoke volumes no matter where or when you lived.  There were crimes of
the day - several murders, a woman disappeared, a couple of robberies by
dubious looking men with handlebar moustaches who rode horses and wore trilbies,
reports of floating lights seen in the church yard by the local drunk, articles
on the evils of drink, and some bushrangers who terrorized the main road and
robbed travellers blind.  There was no indication they ever caught the bush
rangers.  Probably, Mikki surmised, they’d left the area or found more
legitimate work before their identities were discovered.

There were articles on the paries
held out at the mansion, with people coming to stay for the weekend and
extended time, enjoying the lavishness offered by the Willock owners to their
well-to-do friends.  It had definitely been a jumping estate, full of people
and life - parties, picnics, horse riding, crochet, all the larks of the day.

There were articles on the First
World War, followed by the Second World War.  Wilford Willcock featured in
several photos, looking dashing in his uniform from both World Wars.  Reading
further, she discovered that he’d entered the Army at eighteen in the last year
of the First World War but had never left Australia.  Wealthy father who pulled
strings, maybe?  Or just lucky to miss out on all the horror and murder that
wars were, regardless of the time they occurred.

The Second World War saw him see
action in New Guinea, and she wondered how a wealthy man from a small country
town coped with the stress of wondering if the next shot would be his ticket to
Heaven.

With an inward shudder she moved
on, but there didn’t seem to be any woman who stood out as the one with whom he
had an affair.

Rather than the local legend of
running away with the butler, Wilford’s sister had been a nurse in the Army,
dying on a ship carrying wounded soldiers when an enemy plane had bombed the
ship.  It went down with few survivors.  The black and white photo showed her
sitting, looking stern, though laughter played in her eyes.  His mother had
died soon after, people said of a broken heart, she’d just ‘faded away’. 

Wilford left the Army when he was
forty nine to care for his father, who was crippled with arthritis.  Not long
after, his father had indeed fallen down the stairs and broken his neck.  So
much for the stories of being shot.

Wilford seemed to do well for
awhile, then slowly withdrew from society, gradually letting the servants go
until he alone lived in a mansion that slowly crumbled around him.  There was a
brief article on him being found by a care-aid worker, dead at the bottom of
the stairs.  He clutched nothing in his hands.

Leaning back in the chair, Mikki
rubbed her eyes.  Man, that was kind of sad.  All those things happening to him
only to die alone.  She looked down at the plastic bag sitting on the floor. 
Rather than viewing it as smelly old journal, she now saw it as the writings of
a man who had known loss and suffering, and slowly declined.  Who’d lived life,
seen it all, and died alone.

That really got to her.

Maybe she should read the journal
some more, she’d only gotten partially through it before the smell had become a
little unbearable.  She was pretty sure rat or mice piddle might have been part
of it, it was pretty ghastly.

Pushing away from the computer,
she got to her feet and retrieved the bag, deciding to go outside and read it
in the fresh air.  Maybe she’d go back to the mansion and sit on the veranda
and read.

As she passed the desk, Anna barely
glanced at her.  Mikki tossed her a friendly ‘goodbye and thanks’ anyway,
Wilford’s story making her feel a  little more tolerant of the frosty
librarian.

Once outside, she took a breath of
fresh air and stretched a little, rolling her neck around, feeling some
stiffness from spending so much time hunched over the computer.  She certainly
lacked the stiff-backed posture of the Victorian ladies.  Man, she’d have died
back then, sitting upright like she had a board strapped to her back and
stuffed into a corset.  Corsets just had to suck on a hot summer day.  Or any
day, for that matter.

“Good morning.”

Mikki looked around to see Mark
approaching.  His gold hair glinted in the sunlight, his short-sleeved white
coat with the buttons on the left side giving him a clinical appearance.  His
grey slacks looked to be pressed to within an inch of their life, not one
crease in the material.  Not even his shoes had a speck of dirt on them. 
Impressive.

“Hi,” she replied.

“Doing more research?”

“Oh, you mean the library?”  She
held up the plastic bag.  “Found an old journal, was just trying to track down
some people.”

“You found it at the mansion?” he
asked interestedly.

“Under a bed.”

“Huh.”  He looked again at the
plastic bag.  “And did you find the people?”

“Afraid not.”  She smiled.  “But I
don’t give up easily.”

“Maybe you should.”

“Nah.  Why would I do that?”

“History is best left alone, I
always say.”

Struck by a sudden thought, Mikki
eyed him anew.  Was he, perhaps, trying to hide something?  Did he suspect or
know something?  Wait, was
his
grandmother the married woman who’d had
an affair with Wilford Willock?  Did he not want it known?

Mark looked oddly at her.  “What’s
wrong?”

“Oh…nothing.”  Damn it, she had to
do a little fishing.  “Did you ever hear a scandal attached to Wilford?”

“Wilford?”

“Wilford Willock.”

He scratched his jaw line
thoughtfully.  “Well, no, not really.  They do say he pushed his father down
the stairs so he could inherit the mansion.”

“Sorry to blow that legend.  His dad
fell down the stairs all right, but it was witnessed by the local judge, doctor
and several servants, with Wilford standing right bedside them discussing
business.”

“Oh.”  He shrugged.  “Ah well. 
Like I said, history is better left alone.  Sometimes legends are more
entertaining than reality.”

“Did you hear the one about him
having an affair?”

He stared at her for several
seconds before stating, “To be truthful, I find history a little boring.”

Hmmm
.  Mikki regarded him
thoughtfully.

Glancing away, his mouth
tightened.  Adjusting the short upstanding collar of the jacket, he gave her a
nod.  “Best get back to work.  Have a good day.”

Watching him walk away, she
wondered how she could possibly have annoyed him, unless she’d touched a raw
nerve.

“You already cheating on me with
the pharmacist, Red?”

Okay, that answered that.  Now she
knew exactly who had ruffled Mark’s feathers.  Turning around, she donned a
mournful expression as Luke approached.  “Damn.  Busted.”

Stopping right in front of her, he
leaned down to kiss her on the lips.  “What was he sniffing around for?”

That kiss sent a warm tingle
through her, making her smile as Luke slung an arm around her shoulders and
started steering her across the street.  “He wasn’t sniffing.”

“Shouldn’t he be working?  He was
in his work duds.  Why did he have to be on this side of the road when he
should be working?”

“Maybe he had to get something.”

“Maybe he was sniffing around-”

“With dollar signs in his eyes?”

Luke gave her an affectionate
squeeze.  “See?  We’re even thinking alike now.”

“I don’t even presume to think
like you.  That’s downright disturbing.”

He laughed.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

Taking the plastic bag from her
hand, he tossed it into the back of his ute as they passed it.  “Lunch.”

Ah, that explained why he was
parked in front of the café.

Holding the door open for her, he
followed her inside.  Giving the waitress a friendly wave, which she returned
with a big smile and interested eyes, he took Mikki’s elbow and steered her
over to the nearest table at the window.  Sitting down, she was pleased to see
his ute in plain sight.  She’d hate some light-fingered thief to steal the
plastic bag containing the journal, now she could see anyone passing.

Looking back at Luke as he picked
up the menu, she noticed something else.  “Where’s Aunt Elspeth?”

“Back at the mansion doing
business with Yorick, talking on the phone to Dad, and on her computer
following up some business deal.”  Luke gazed curiously at Mikki over top of
the long menu.  “Just exactly what does your aunt do?”