Wolf Island (3 page)

He’d
said earlier that he had nothing to hide. If that were true, why wouldn’t he
answer her questions?

Abby
walked to his side. “You first. I insist.”

Wicked
humor glinted in his eyes, framed in thick black lashes. His gaze slid to her
mouth and lingered. Would he try to kiss her? Would she let him? Yes --
no -- maybe. What was she thinking?
Did Miranda have this same reaction
to him? Is this how he gets to people?

He
stepped into the hallway and, thankfully, her more rational side shifted back
into place.

Wide
corridors with floor-to-ceiling windows showcased a magnificent view of the
castle grounds. Dark green draperies, held back with thick gold ropes and
tassels, hung on either side of the windows.

“What
grade do you teach?” They turned a corner and started down another hallway.

“We
call them forms. I teach seventh form at a school for young ladies in
Westmorland.” She needed to shift the conversation back to the subject at
hand -- Miranda. “When did Miranda leave, exactly?”

He
lightly rubbed the tips of his fingers over his nose and studied her. “I told
you she left a couple of weeks ago. Late. You don’t believe me. Do you?”

“I --
I’m not sure.”

He
studied her face for a long, tense moment and made her skin heat. “My family
has been on this island for centuries. The Morgans are very good at reading
people. What are you really thinking?” He stopped in the middle of the wide
hallway. His deep voice urged her to tell him the truth.

“I
think you know more than you’re telling me and I intend to find out what that
is.”

He
leaned in close and brushed a strand of hair from her face with just the tip of
his finger, caressing her cheek. His touch left a trail of warmth behind. “You
do that, Abigail.” His quiet voice surrounded her.

A
strong sense of déjà vu settled in the pit of her stomach.

Rubbish.
She’d never met the man before today. Why did Devlin saying her name seem as
natural and right as if they were old friends meeting again? He mesmerized her
even as every cell in her body screamed for her to run.

But
she couldn’t fly home like a frightened bird seeking the safety and warmth of
its nest. She wanted time to puzzle this out without Devlin’s penetrating eyes
watching her every move. She had to find Miranda, and, like it or not, Devlin
was the key.

“I
will, Devlin. You can bet on it.”

His
mouth curved in a slight smile, and they continued walking down the hallway.
They passed a couple of elegantly appointed bedrooms and parlors. He stopped in
the doorway of a magnificent library. Floor-to-ceiling shelves, crammed full of
books, lined the walls. Her gaze darted about the space.

“At
least you’re honest, Abby. Now I’ll be honest with you. Your sister spent a lot
of time in here.”

Each
time he dropped his
r
’s, her attraction for him slid further beneath her
skin.
Get a grip.
“Mind if I have a look around?”

He
waved a hand through the air. “Be my guest.” Devlin flipped a switch, and a
wash of light flooded the room.

Sofas,
chairs, and reading lamps were scattered throughout. Abby walked over the
parquet floor to a large bay window. Dim afternoon light tinted the air with a
hint of mauve.

She
settled onto the tufted window seat and glanced at Devlin. “Miranda’s never
been much of a reader unless it involved something paranormal. Why did she
spend so much time here?”

“She
conducted several vigils in this room after she thought she detected some
ghostly activity using some of those gadgets of hers.”

Abby
remembered those gadgets well. Miranda always came home with the boot of her
car packed full with sensors, temperature gauges, and the like. Miranda wanted
to teach her how to use them, but she didn’t care to learn. “Did she leave in a
hurry?”

“I
don’t know. Maybe. One morning, I woke up and she was gone.”

She
didn’t believe him. A man like Devlin would be aware of all the comings and
goings of his guests. Abby rubbed her thumb over the face of her watch and
could almost feel the minutes trickling away, one tick-tock at a time.

Miranda, where are you?

“You
never gave me an explanation about the chimes I heard when I first arrived at
the castle.”

He
looked at her with a twinkle in his eyes. “You obviously encountered the
Chiming Lady.”

His
voice held an allure, a kind of wicked seduction that urged her to admit she’d
experienced a ghost. She refused to give in to it.

Abby
rose from the window seat and walked across the room to him. “I don’t believe
in ghosts.”

He
looked at her and smiled. “Your sister does. She’s absolutely convinced the
castle is haunted. When she wasn’t running tests, she peppered everyone she met
with questions about the chiming ghost.”

“And
she disappeared in the process. I have to find out what happened to my sister.
That’s why I need to stay in the castle longer than one night.”

“Pointless.
She’s not here.” He gestured with his hand. “Go look for her somewhere else in
Maine. Check with Homeland Security -- they’re supposed to keep track of
foreigners.”

She
closed her hands into loose fists at her sides. “Very funny. I’m a guest, and
guests should have the option of staying a bit longer if they choose.”

“Having
guests once a month is tolerable. Twice a month would be unbearable.”

“Oh,
I’m unbearable?” She kept her tone light despite her irritation.

He
nodded. “In a manner of speaking.”

A
lock of shiny black hair dipped onto his forehead. She almost reached up to
brush the hair off his face. Sweet Mary, what was the matter with her?

She
should ease her way in, try to be more accommodating and pleasant rather than
so demanding. “I promise I won’t be any trouble.” She hoped he didn’t see the
lie in her eyes.

He
smirked. “That’s what they all say. Then they make a nuisance of themselves,
quizzing me about the castle, the island, and if the castle’s really haunted.
They take pictures, gawk at everything -- including me -- like
they’ve never seen a castle or its owner before.”

“What
do you expect? Most of them haven’t been in a castle or met anyone remotely
connected with one. People are naturally curious and often gullible, especially
when it comes to ghostly sightings. If it bothers you so much, why open up the
castle at all? Simply close your doors and be done with it.”

“I
don’t want to be done with it.”

“Then
what
do
you want?”

He
looked toward the window at the dwindling light. “I want Wolf Island to
survive. The fishing industry here has suffered in the last few years because
the fish in the waters surrounding the island have slowly begun to disappear.
People were either moving away or going bankrupt.” He paused as if gathering
his thoughts and exhaled a deep breath. “My great-great-grandfather founded the
village, and since I’m his descendant, it’s largely up to me to help support
the people living here.”

“And?”

“We’ve
managed to turn the village into a kind of resort and created a cottage
industry. Fishermen take tourists out for leisure cruises in their renovated
boats, and many of the old buildings are now bed-and-breakfasts. Rumors have
flown around for years about Morgan’s Keep being haunted, so I hyped the
concept and started offering ghost tours and haunted weekends.”

“Has
any of this helped?”

“Yes,
the local economy has grown steadily since we started advertising our haunted
island and castle.” He turned and looked at her. “Maybe you’ll see a ghost or
two while you’re here.”

“Doubtful.
Besides, I don’t care whether the castle is haunted. I’m just here to find my
sister.”

“One
night’s all you’ve got.”

“Surely
we can work something out.”

“No,
we can’t. There is one possible solution to your hotel dilemma, though. I have
a friend in the village who might have a room to rent in her house.”

Staying
in the castle would be the most advantageous situation for her. It would give
her more opportunities to search for clues about Miranda’s whereabouts,
although she wasn’t exactly sure what she was looking for.

He
glanced at his watch, then at Abby, with observant eyes. “Let’s go. Otis has
dinner waiting.”

“I’d
like to stop by my room on the way downstairs.” Quiet surrounded them in the
hall, with only the distant echo of a ship’s horn filtering through the walls
from outside. “It must be lonely here, day after day without anyone to talk to
except Otis. How do you stand it?”

Devlin
looked at her, his eyes darkening with unreadable emotions while a cold smile spread
over his mouth. “You’d be surprised what a man can stand.”

What
did he mean? Did he spend a great deal of time alone because of his supposed
link to Alice Howard’s death? She made a mental note to check back-issues of
the local newspaper at the library to look for information about that young
woman. But first, she needed him to agree to let her stay.

An
idea formed in her mind. If he wanted to give the island’s economy a
much-needed jolt, she’d show him how he and the island could profit from her
stay.

Besides,
if she left, she might not be able to get back in. He could find innumerable
excuses to put her off. Miranda had last been seen here at this castle, and it
was the only place Abby knew to look. She couldn’t let him outsmart her. She
had to move quickly.

“I
have a proposition for you.”

He
stopped and turned his head. His sensual gaze journeyed in a lazy appraisal
from her eyes to her mouth, making her limbs feel warm and weak. “A
proposition?” An underlying sensuality suffused his husky voice.

Her
cheeks heated. What would it be like to slip beneath the sheets with a man like
him, to lie warm and protected within his embrace? But would she gain
protection, or would getting closer to him physically be a danger instead? Had
the same thing happened to Miranda?

Why
did she find him so attractive? Abby gave herself a mental shake. “Wrong choice
of words. I didn’t mean that kind of proposition.”

A
corner of Devlin’s handsome mouth kicked up.

Abby
cleared her throat. “I design a lot of graphics for my students to help them
with their studies. I’ve built quite a few websites, and the owners were very
pleased with the results.” She paused to let her words sink in and gauge his
reaction. He raised his brows and motioned for her to continue.

“I
could do the same for you and the island.” She gestured with her hand. “A
well-designed website could bring in a lot of much needed business. In fact,
I’m surprised you don’t already have one. There would, of course, be plenty of
information about the Chiming Lady, the history of the island, and so forth.”
Tomorrow she would go into the village and get a firsthand look around, snap a
few pictures, and talk to the locals. That would make it easy to bring Miranda
into the conversation.

“Once
I get the site up and running, I’m sure it will encourage more tourists to
visit the island, therefore boosting the economy. What do you think?”

His
mouth eased into a sudden, arresting smile. “I think you’re just trying to come
up with an excuse to stay, but you’re wasting your breath.”

Not
just an excuse. She had to stay. “Won’t you at least consider the idea?”

The
lamps along the hallway flickered out. A chill brushed Abby’s skin.

“Help
me,” a quiet voice sighed.

Her
heartbeat picked up rhythm, and she stopped in her tracks. “Did you hear that?”
she whispered and lightly touched his arm.

“What?”
A frown creased Devlin’s brow.

“That
weird voice.” She turned her head to look up and down the darkened hallway,
seeing nothing.

“Must
have been the wind.” He shrugged in an unconcerned manner and lightly grasped
her elbow to lead her toward her room.

“It
didn’t sound like the wind. And what about the lights?”

“Power
outages aren’t unusual in the castle. Much of the wiring is old. Relax. You’re
letting your imagination run away with you.”

She
didn’t appreciate his patronizing tone, but she let it pass for now. Maybe he
was right. When they entered her room, he lifted the screen from the fireplace,
knelt down, and struck a match against the hearth. In a moment, flames licked
at the kindling and stacked wood. He rose, replaced the screen, and watched her
with a sensual glimmer in his eyes.

Through
the open door, the lights blinked on in the hallway. “See?” Devlin gestured
toward the hallway. “Otis must have checked the fuse box.”

She
swallowed and inhaled a calming breath. “So, how about a few more nights’ stay
in the castle?” After all, Abby knew she could design a very sophisticated
website for the island. “You never told me what you thought of my idea.” She
rubbed her hands together and glanced at him, waiting for him to answer. But
only the gentle flutter of the flames in the hearth filled the silence in the
room. He was watching her the way a man watches a woman he finds attractive.