The Unquiet - J. D. Robb [114]
Brooding, he crossed his arms over his chest. “But then, why should I expect anything different from the likes of you? How could you possibly love this place the way one would who’d been born to it?”
Instead of flinching, she glowered at him. After a few hours of sleep, she was more than ready to take up a fight with this man.
“That’s right. I don’t love it as you do. But I need what it can give me: a way to earn a living. As you suggested, I intend to invite strangers here to fish, to ride, and to enjoy the gardens. Foreigners who will be introduced to a way of life that is gone for good and will never be seen again, except for these few castles and manor houses that are left standing. In case you aren’t aware of it, travelers will spend a great deal of money to see how people lived in earlier times. At least, I hope they will.”
“What makes you think you’d be a good innkeeper?”
“It’s what I was trained to do.” She broke open a biscuit, slathered it with jam, and took a bite. “I was very good at my job.”
“Then why aren’t you still doing it?”
“I . . . gave it up.”
He studied her more closely. “For a man, I’ll wager.”
She looked away. “It’s none of your business.”
She didn’t see him move, and yet in the blink of an eye he was beside her, lifting her face, forcing her to meet his steady gaze.
“Aye. For a man. And from the look of you, one who obviously wasn’t worth the sacrifice.”
She slapped his hand away and was startled to feel nothing but air.
He was already across the room with his back to the fire as he stared daggers at her.
She picked up her cup and headed toward the bedroom. “I’ll remind you to respect my privacy while I bathe and dress.”
When he made no reply, she closed the door. Then for good measure she turned the lock. And missed the sudden smile that tugged at the corners of his lips.
Wrapped in a towel, Bree emerged from the bathroom to find Jamie lying on the bed, his hands folded comfortably beneath his head.
He looked her up and down before smiling. “Did you really think a locked door would keep me out?”
“I’d hoped you were gentleman enough to respect my privacy.”
“If you insist upon invading my privacy, why should I treat you any better? Besides,” he added with a grin, “I’m very much enjoying the view. As I did when you showered.”
“You’re insufferable.” She huffed out a breath and picked up her clothes.
As she headed back toward the bathroom he called, “What makes you think I won’t follow you in there again?”
“Stay away from me.” For emphasis she slammed the door.
In the bathroom, she dressed with as much haste as she could manage, all the while glancing around to see if he’d made good on his threat.
When she emerged a second time, Jamie was nowhere in sight. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or dismayed. Maybe he’d decided, since she refused to be afraid of him, to simply go away and do his haunting elsewhere. Or, she thought, he could be gathering his strength to torment her even more.
Armed with a camera and her laptop, Bree stepped out of the cottage, ready for a day in the manor house, exploring the rooms with an eye toward developing the mansion and its property into a moneymaking proposition.
She glanced at her watch, hoping to get in a few hours before Gwynn and Duncan Logan arrived.
As she made her way along the path, she kept looking over her shoulder, half expecting Jamie to fall into step beside her. Did ghosts avoid sunlight, preferring the night?
That thought had her pausing in midstride. Yesterday she’d denied the existence of ghosts. Here she was, scant hours later, not only believing that her visitor was a spirit, but conversing with him.
Jamie Kerr’s powerful presence made it impossible to deny him.
Good heavens. She was beginning to sound like Gwynn Logan.
Before she could turn the key in the lock, the door was thrown open by the housekeeper.
Bree’s eyes went wide. “Did you stay the night?”
“We did. Both Duncan and I were too worried to leave you alone. We slept in our old rooms beyond the