Midnight Rose Page 2

  For God’s sake, move, Kate!

  She tightened her belt and started to turn for the French doors when the man reappeared, rising from the slick blackness like a phantom, as though he’d knifed to the center of the earth and ascended again in one effortless, continuous movement. He paused in the waist-deep water and smoothed the dark hair back from his face, trapping Kate once again in a moment of suspension.

  She couldn’t make out his features, but somehow she knew his face was as finely honed as the rest of him. She knew, too, when he felt her gaze and turned his head sharply to catch her watching like a frightened doe from the balcony.

  For a breathtaking instant, neither of them moved. Kate had never been more humiliated in her life, but she was immobile, gripping the railing, her pulse pounding heat through her veins while tiny shivers of excitement slid down her spine and tickled between her legs. Then the swimmer turned his face and started up the pool steps, water rushing down his pale, graceful body. Somehow, as though she stood inches before him, she saw the wetness sluice down his limbs, pool at his feet, bead on his skin only to be sipped away by the night breeze. Moving with easy nonchalance, he wrapped the towel around his waist, leaned to retrieve his shorts from the pool’s edge, and exited through the gate.

  It was Kate’s cue to escape back into her bedroom, but inexplicably, she didn’t. She waited for him to latch the gate, to turn around and stare back at her again, and he didn’t disappoint her. Holding her gaze, he backed toward the pool house, his smile a flash of white in a shadowed face, gone in a blink. And then he, too, vanished.

  Chapter Two

  “Tell me you’re not going to call this early every morning,” Mike said into the telephone between yawns. “You don’t have to stay there, you know. If you’re this depressed, forget it. Come back to Richmond.”

  Kate shifted the receiver to her other ear, rolled back against the pillows and stared at the ornate plaster medallion that encircled the chandelier over the bed. “But I haven’t even met Jude, or his father, who, incidentally, is paying me gobs of money. I promised myself I’d give it some time.”

  “Sounds to me like one night of complete and utter homesickness in a spooky old house ought to be enough time for you to make up your mind.”

  “I’ll adjust.” She rubbed her stomach absently and felt it rumble beneath her hand. Her appetite never abandoned her, no matter how desperate her emotional state. “I’ll feel better after I eat something.”

  “What’s for breakfast, scones and clotted cream?” He snickered. “I can see you, seated at one end of a fourteen-foot dining table while Earl Grey and his kid sit at the opposite end and stare you down, all pasty-faced in cravats and smoking jackets. It’d be too perfect.”

  “That’s cruel,” she said, even as a smile curved her lips. “I’m sure they’re perfectly normal, or at least as much as the situation can allow. There’s no cure for Jude’s illness, you know.”

  “Yeah, I know. Poor kid.” Mike sounded properly remorseful. “You’re bound to bring some excitement into his life. So give it some time, meet the family, and take advantage of all that fresh air and beauty. If you stay for a while, I’ll even come visit.”

  Kate bolted upright. “Oh, Mike, would you?”

  “Sure thing. Now let me go. I’ve got company.”

  “Oh.” She rolled her eyes. Since their divorce, Mike had embraced a party lifestyle as though he’d been starved. “Sorry to have kept you from your guest.”

  “He’s too hung over to care. Be good, Katie.”

  “You, too.” She clung to the receiver until she heard the disconnecting click, then with a heavy sigh, reached out and set it on its cradle.

  Sunlight poured through the narrow opening she’d left between the curtains last night. In the warm glow of morning the bedroom seemed cozier, more welcoming. She threw back the duvet, padded into the bathroom, and moments later, stood luxuriating under the triple-headed sprays of the marble shower.

  She was amazed at how rested and wide-eyed she felt, considering it was barely seven o’clock and she wasn’t one of those cheerful morning people who leapt from the covers to embrace the day.

  A strange concoction of anticipation and dread simmered in her stomach as she dried off, dressed in a sedate cotton blouse and tan linen pants, and pulled her damp hair back into a tidy bun. First impressions were important, even if it was only a matter of time until her new student figured out she was terribly silly, given to fits of laughter, and much too adventurous to be declared a “grown-up”.

  She staunchly believed it was possible to learn and have fun at the same time, a message she’d tried to deliver to her homebound students during her six years as an itinerant teacher. Jude Renaud would be no different. She could open the world for him, if he allowed it.

  Moments later, Kate cracked her bedroom door, peeked into the shadowed hall, and was greeted by utter stillness. She pulled the door closed behind her and crept toward the landing, unsure of why she was tiptoeing, but compelled to preserve the silence nonetheless. The house reminded her of a cathedral, dark and rich and hushed. Lemon furniture polish scented the air, enhanced by the faint, smoky fragrance of snuffed candles.

  Halfway down the stairs, she paused and glanced at the giant hunting scene with its grisly troop of redcoats and hounds. Something was different about the painting. The snarling, salivating beagle-beast in the far left corner seemed mildly…placated? A little less ferocious, somehow, than she’d remembered last night.

  Maybe someone had tossed him a puppy treat, Kate thought with a smirk. Smoothing her hair, she descended the rest of the steps and was greeted by the rich, delectable scent of hot bread and bacon. She glanced into the sprawling sitting room, saw no one, and started toward the door that led down to the kitchen and warm sounds of clattering dishes.

  “Ms. O’Brien?”

  The low voice behind her startled an involuntary curse from her throat. Heart pounding, she whirled around to find the voice’s dark-haired owner lounging in the doorway, arms folded over his chest, watching her with fathomless black eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, amusement playing around his full lips. “I scared you.”

  “Enough to elicit the most tasteful choice of words.” She offered him a sheepish smile and crossed the rug toward him, hand extended. “You must be Jude’s father.”

  “Gideon Renaud.” His fingers closed around hers, cool, firm, lingering just a beat too long before releasing her. “You’re younger than I expected.”

  She nodded, taking in the long line of his body attired in a white button-down and crisp khaki pants. “And you’re…” My God. The ghost from the swimming pool last night. Perspiration misted her hairline. “You’re…you look familiar.”

  “I hear that quite often, but I don’t think we’ve met.” His smile widened, and a dimple appeared in his left cheek. “Or have we?”

  “No way,” she said quickly. “No, I’d remember if we had.”

  “Hmm.” His black eyes sparkled and he nodded toward the kitchen door. “Jude’s downstairs having breakfast, and I was just about to join him. Hungry?”

  “Absolutely.” A complete lie. Her insides had contorted into an impossible tangle of nerves, and she didn’t like the feeling. Men didn’t make her nervous, not at her age. She’d kissed too many frogs to regress to a place of such painful self-consciousness. But this man…he’d rendered her a quivering wreck with a few polite, generic words. Or maybe it was his knowing smile that said I know that you know that I know…about the pool last night, about the fact that he had the most beautiful physique she’d seen on any man, and that she’d seen every inch of it.

  It was more than easy to think of him naked as she followed him across the living room, her gaze fixed on his wide shoulders. Maybe it had been a waking dream. She rubbed the spot of tension between her eyebrows and trailed him down the stairs, drawing deep, thirsty breaths to regain her composure.

  A moment later, all distress fled he
r mind. The kitchen bustled with life; a plump, flushed woman in a white apron moved about the brick-floored room, stirring, whistling, traveling from the stove to the table as she prepared the meal. An inconspicuous radio thrummed a pleasant, steady tune from the granite counter by the sink, and a cheerful fire popped and glowed from the large, soot-dusted fireplace, stealing the vague morning chill. Heavy shutters trapped the rays of morning beyond the small windows along the far wall, the only sign that this household wasn’t quite ordinary.

  Thirteen-year-old Jude Renaud sat at the glass-topped table, twisted in his chair to stare at Kate, his dark eyes wide and discerning in a face as pale as last night’s moon. He was thin, exquisitely featured, his ebony hair neatly trimmed except for a rebellious wave that flopped over his brow.

  For a moment, all Kate could do was stare back; she was so captivated by the child’s unearthly beauty. Then she mustered a smile and came around to the chair beside him. “Is this seat taken?”

  “By you, I guess,” he said, facing forward again. His black, piercing gaze finally left her face and he picked up his fork. “I don’t like breakfast, but I have to eat it.”

  “That’s a pretty tall order.” Kate eyed the scrambled eggs, toast and bacon piled on his plate. “Can you eat all that?”

  “He never does,” the plump woman said briskly. “He needs it to keep his strength. Mornin’, Mr. Renaud,” she added with a softened smile as Gideon reached around her and snagged a slice of toast from the platter in her hand. “Off again so soon?”

  “After I acquaint myself with Ms. O’Brien. Betty, have you met Jude’s new teacher?”

  Betty nodded at Kate, her brown eyes sparkling. “Howdy do, Ms. O’Brien. Welcome to Sister Oaks.”

  Kate smiled at the cook’s rural vernacular. “Thank you, Betty.”

  Grabbing the coffeepot from the counter, Gideon motioned to Kate. “Would you like some?”

  “Please.” She flipped over the cup at her elbow. While he stood by her shoulder and poured the steaming liquid, she breathed in his scent. Soap, heat, an appealing essence she couldn’t quite name. He looked elegant, as though he’d never spent a day without a silver spoon within reach. And yet he acted…natural. Approachable.

  He smiled down at her and poured a cup of coffee for himself. Then he sat down beside her and said, “Jude’s excited about getting back to school, aren’t you, Jude?”

  The boy shot his father a look of mild contempt and went back to picking at his eggs with a fork.

  “Jude’s also excited about getting to know you, making you feel welcome, and showing you his impeccable manners.”

  “Jeez…” Jude shoved back from the table. “Do I have to be here while you plan everything out with her?”

  Kate forced herself to relax and smiled at the scowling teenager. “I’d like for you to stay. I don’t want to make up a lesson plan without your input, Jude. This is all about you. Don’t you think you should have some say?”

  “I never did before,” he said sullenly, but he scooted closer to the table again and propped his chin in his hand. “So what am I going to study?”

  “A little bit of everything.” She glanced at Gideon and found him watching the exchange with an unreadable expression. “Math, of course, and English, and social studies. Science, too, which should be exciting, considering that we’re out here in the country with nature all around us—”

  “I can’t go outside,” Jude said flatly. “I’ll fry. And it’s too dark at night to see anything. Science completely sucks, and it doesn’t matter what cool lessons you come up with, it’ll never be fun out here in the middle of nowhere.”

  Gideon cleared his throat, slid aside his cup, and leaned toward his son. “Know what? I think you’re giving Ms. O’Brien a poor first impression. Go upstairs.”

  Instantly Jude displayed the wide-eyed, astonished indignation Kate had seen a million times on the faces of the healthiest, most normal kids. “What’d I do?”

  “You’re being obnoxious. Go upstairs and wait for me.”

  “Sheesh.” The boy shoved back from the table, started toward the stairwell, then backtracked and snatched his plate from the table to thrust it on the counter by the sink.

  At least he cleaned up after himself, Kate thought with a suppressed smile.

  Without another word, he disappeared into the shadows, and a breath later, the door at the top of the stairs slammed his dissatisfaction.

  Gideon drew a breath and sat back, his expression one of tightly reined impatience. “I apologize for my son, Ms. O’Brien. He’s not normally so disagreeable.”

  “Say no more.” Kate smiled and took a sip of her coffee to steady her nerves. “New situations can be a real challenge for some kids, and Mrs. Shelton tells me you just moved from Massachusetts. Jude has faced some major adjustments recently.”

  “And some old miseries.” His dark gaze fixed on the cup in front of him. “He’s weak right now, more than usual. It’s hard to be pleasant when you suffer as much as he does.” He glanced up at her. “Still, it doesn’t give him the right to make you feel unwelcome.”

  “I don’t feel unwelcome. Just…new.”

  He watched her, his dark lashes lowered just enough to shield his thoughts. Then he smiled. He had a beautiful mouth, sensuous and provocative. Kate swallowed and tried not to stare.

  “Betty, feed our new teacher a good hot meal. She’s too skinny and urbanized. I’m going to talk to Jude, and when I’m done, Ms. O’Brien, I’ll take you for a walk around the grounds.”

  “A lap around the house would be nice, too,” she said. “I might get lost trying to find my way out of the kitchen.”

  Betty set a plate heaped with delectable breakfast fare in front of her. “We’ll fatten her up,” she told Gideon as he started up the stairs, and the women in the kitchen paused to watch him take two at a time with smooth, graceful steps.

  * * * * *

  Gideon was crossing the center landing as Kate emerged from the sitting room a half-hour later. He paused in front of the hunt scene and waited for her to approach. “Jude owes you an apology,” he said when she reached the foot of the staircase. “But right now he’s resting. If you’ll join us for dinner this evening, I think things will go a little smoother.”

  She nodded and folded her hands behind her back because she couldn’t think of what else to do with them. Staring up at him while the golden sun poured through the clerestory windows and encircled his head did something funny to her insides. Her stomach fluttered, her pulse quickened. He took a single step down, watching her. The air between them was thick with unspoken sentiments, but she couldn’t guess their nature. It seemed like a prime moment for him to mention their silent exchange last night between the pool and balcony, and for an instant, she feared he might.

  But he continued to descend the stairs, slow and easy, his gaze intent on her face, until he finally reached her. “You’re very pretty,” he said. “Jude’s used to dour old schoolmarms who’ve retired from long and distinguished careers of knuckle-rapping.”

  Kate swallowed. Men didn’t usually declare her “pretty” in such a direct way. Attractive maybe, if the mood and lighting were right. Heads occasionally turned when she walked past a construction site, which was no real compliment considering the catcalls that usually accompanied such a mortifying examination. But this man—this man with his liquid, obsidian eyes, sculpted features, sensuous smile and killer body—he’d called her pretty, and she stood captivated by the idea that he might be right.

  “I… Thanks.” She smoothed a quick, nervous hand up the nape of her neck to check her bun. “So now you’re going to give me the beginner’s course on this place? I haven’t ventured outside the path from my bedroom to the kitchen. I’m afraid I’d never find my way back.”

  He inclined his head with a smile. “Sister Oaks isn’t as big as she looks. But she is scary, and for good cause.”

  “Oh?”

  “She’s haunted.”

&nb
sp; “No, really?” Kate flashed him a wry grin. “Not this huge, daunting mansion situated so very far from civilization.”

  He lightly grasped her elbow as they walked toward the formal dining room across the foyer. “Did we nearly scare you off at first sight?”

  “I don’t spook easily.”

  “I’m so glad to know that about you.” He paused, his fingers gentle on her arm. “This is the dining room, which we’ll never use unless it’s for a business dinner or holiday. Too chilly and formal.” And completely empty, except for a crimson Persian rug that swallowed their steps as they crossed to the massive fireplace.

  Some of the tension tightening her muscles drained away as she grew accustomed to his touch at her elbow. The easy confidence in his manner eased the stress of newness. “That’s an incredible fireplace.”

  “Six feet by seven,” Gideon said. “The painting above it is a Turner.”

  “Amazing.” Kate gazed at the lush, romantic landscape, before her attention was inexplicably drawn back to Gideon’s profile. He was as beautiful as his son. Eyes so dark, they consumed the light. Skin as fair as if the sun had never touched a single cell. There was something surreal about a creature so exquisite. He might have stepped out of the painting before them. The shadow of beard on his jaw was the only element that rendered him less than perfect, and saved him from appearing…well, ghostly.

  “If you look at me any harder, I’m going to feel self-conscious,” he said, his attention focused on the painting.

  Embarrassment sizzled through her. “Well,” she cleared her throat, “maybe you’re pretty, too.”

  He didn’t meet her gaze, but pleasure curved his lips as he backed away and motioned toward a set of doors at the end of the dining hall. “This way to the billiard room, the conservatory, and the library.”

  “Sounds like a board game I played as a child,” she said with a helpless laugh, odd wings of joy fluttering in her stomach.