Forced to the Altar. Susan CrosbyЧитать онлайн книгу.
seated twelve in the high-back, richly upholstered chairs, reminiscent of another century. The single place setting at one end meant she didn’t have to guess where to sit.
“I’m not a guest,” she protested to Mrs. Moody, who had led the way to the dining room, a tray in hand. “I can eat with you and Mr. Moody.”
“We dined earlier.”
Julianne bit back a sigh. Some surprising obstacles faced her in her new situation—a boss who apparently slept a lot, two protective and barely sociable fellow employees, and more isolation than Jamey had led her to believe.
“There aren’t any guests?” Julianne asked.
“This is not a popular time of year to vacation on the Prom. Enjoy your meal.”
The tasty fish stew, green salad and crunchy bread satisfied Julianne’s hunger for food but not for company. She could even hear herself chew. And strange sounds from above, bumps in the night, startled her. She finished in a hurry and returned her tray to the kitchen, where she found Mr. and Mrs. Moody sitting at a small table, sipping tea.
“That was so good, thank you, Mrs. Moody,” Julianne said, setting the tray on the counter, then plopping the dishes into a sink mounded with soap bubbles. “No, don’t get up. I’ll do them.” She plunged her hands in the hot water and looked over her shoulder. “What do you do for entertainment?”
“You’ll find a big-screen TV in the media room. There’s a satellite dish, DVD player and an extensive library of movies.”
Julianne glanced at her watch. It was barely seven-thirty, too early to retire to her room, even after her long day of travel.
“Would you give me a tour of the house when I’m done?” she asked.
The couple stood. “My husband will take you.” Mrs. Moody nudged Julianne aside, taking over at the sink. “I will see you in the morning. Coffee is ready by 6:00 a.m., but of course you may take your time. You won’t punch a time clock here.”
“Thank you.” She was used to getting up early, had reported for work at 6:00 a.m. at her last job waiting tables.
Mr. Moody led her through the dining room and across a wide hallway and entry hall into a substantial living room that included a huge fireplace, a grand piano—she couldn’t imagine how they’d transported the instrument up the hill and into the castle—and furnishings of a style Julianne guessed was nineteenth century.
Next was the media room, modern in both technology and furnishings, yet not jarringly out of place.
“That’s Mr. Zach’s office,” Mr. Moody said, pointing to a door farther down the hall. “You’re not to enter it.”
Why not?
A bathroom, guest room and the Moodys’ suite rounded out the bottom floor. Julianne and Mr. Moody circled back to the entry hall, which contained a substantial staircase that ascended to the second level.
“Only one room up here concerns you,” he said as they reached the landing and turned right. “This room. It’ll be your work space.”
“May I see the other tower room?” she asked. “Does it look the same as mine?”
“It’s locked.” He opened the door to her office then stepped aside, allowing her to enter. The room held a computer and rows of file cabinets. At least it looked like she might have work to do.
A few minutes later, Mr. Moody left her in the media room. She surfed the more-than-a-hundred channels on the satellite-dish network, then settled on a DVD, Legally Blonde, which she hoped would make her laugh.
The movie proved not to be a distraction, and she turned it off after an hour. Low-light sconces on the walls guided her way to her room, where she sat cross-legged on the window seat. Out of the corner of her eye she saw movement. The half moon didn’t make much of a spotlight, but it was enough to cast a man in silhouette walking along the bluff, the only place where trees didn’t grow. In her imagination, an aura of darkness surrounded him—dark hair and eyes, a forbidding expression.
Since the castle seemed to be the only structure on this end of the island, she guessed it was her benefactor, Zach Keller. If he was old, he still had a full head of hair—it and his long coat blew behind him in the wind.
Hope swelled in her—hope that he would be kind and honest, that he would make her laugh. She needed to laugh.
He stopped and turned toward the castle. She drew back as the light from her room, even from such a distance, probably revealed her sitting in the window seat watching him. After a minute she turned out her light then resettled on the seat, feeling like a spy, but in need of entertainment.
Two large dogs raced by the man, their strides long and quick. They skidded to a stop, then bounded back to him, bumping against his legs as he leaned over to pet them.
Her cell phone rang. Her heart pounded, as if she’d been caught spying red-handed.
“Hello, Jamey,” she said to the only person who knew the number of her new satellite cell phone.
“You made it okay?”
“I’m here.” She sat on the window seat again and looked outdoors, but the man and dogs were gone. “I’m not sure if sending me here was a favor.”
“A little rustic for your taste, Venus?”
“Julianne,” she said, reminding him of her new name. “You told me I would be safe here. You didn’t tell me I would be stuck in the middle of nowhere. And, frankly, this place is a little creepy.”
“You said you wanted to disappear. Like your mother. Those were your exact words.”
“And you said that this Zach Keller needs me. You’d better be right about that. There’d better be a ton of work to do, because I’m already going stir crazy.”
“There are needs, and then there are needs, Julianne.”
That silenced her for a few seconds. “Meaning what? I haven’t even met the man yet.”
“You’ll see for yourself, if it’s meant to be.”
“For a fact-driven private investigator, you sure are being philosophical.”
He laughed quietly. “Relax. Enjoy yourself. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”
She glanced around the room. “You’re right about that much. Thank goodness.”
“Stay in touch.”
“Believe me, I will.”
She snapped the phone shut then slid it into the charger base. What now? She was too keyed up to sleep. She hadn’t brought any books. The magazines she’d bought at the airport she’d read on the plane. She didn’t think the Moodys or her new boss would appreciate her playing the piano this late, especially given how rusty her skills were. She hadn’t played in over a year.
There was only a shower stall in the bathroom, so she couldn’t even take a hot bath to help her sleep.
Finally she decided she might as well go to bed, which she found cozy and warm. She closed her eyes…
Julianne stretched as she awoke the next morning, surprised she’d slept until almost seven o’clock. She strolled to the window to get a look at the land in daylight, and found the landscape harshly beautiful, rocky yet dotted with evergreen trees.
Wanting to make a good impression on her new boss, she took the time to straighten her hair with her flatiron, although the humidity would tighten her curls within a couple of hours. She donned dressy black pants and a hunter-green sweater.
She headed down the stairs, ate breakfast alone in the kitchen, then waited for instructions. When none came, she decided to go for a walk. Shoving her hands into her coat pockets, she strained against a surprisingly strong wind. She returned to the castle, offered to help