The Unquiet - J. D. Robb [119]
Opening an inn here was no longer just a sweet dream. Though it would mean a great deal of hard work and sacrifice on her part, now more than ever she was convinced that she could make it happen. And not just because she was alone and desperate, without any other choices, but also because she could see the potential here to succeed.
Ravenswood was set in spectacular rolling hills, surrounded by clear, sparkling lakes. Once restored, the gardens could become world-class. The village below was a lovely little jewel, with shops that would appeal to tourists. A successful inn would mean that the villagers would see their lives improved as well.
She wasn’t about to permit Jamie’s negative attitude to color her decision to move forward on this. She dried her hands on a towel and bit her lip. But she couldn’t help wishing that she could change his mind. Not just for the sake of a little peace here in the cottage, but also because they were running out of vases.
Gwynn had called him violent. A monster.
Bree had certainly seen that side of him. She could only hope that he was never inclined to direct that same violence against her personally.
If she should find herself in the fight of her life against a raging spirit, how much strength could she hope to summon?
She prayed she never needed to find the answer to that. In the meantime, she would remain vigilant. And fully prepared for anything.
FIVE
Bree stoked the fire before pulling the chair close to its warmth. A steaming cup of tea rested on the little table beside her.
After Jamie’s latest tirade, the silence that settled over the cottage was a welcome relief. Considering the day she’d put in, she ought to be ready for bed. But in fact she was reluctant to go into the bedroom and face the carnage. At least that was the reason she gave for remaining by the fire. It was not, she told herself firmly, because of that little scene in bed the previous night. Whatever had happened between them had been completely unintentional. She’d been simply caught up in a dream. Now she would see to it that it never happened again. Even if it meant sleeping here in the chair for the foreseeable future.
“Sorry.” Jamie appeared, holding a wastebasket brimming with shards of iridescent glass.
“Oh no. Not that lovely bowl on the side table.” Bree eyed the pieces as he dumped them unceremoniously into the kitchen trash bin.
“I’ll have you know that it gave me a great deal of satisfaction to smash it to bits. I never liked that bowl, or the female who bought it.”
“Your wife?”
“A great-great-granddaughter. A self-centered wench, like those who spawned her.”
“So much anger.”
“You think I’m angry now?” He gave a dry laugh. “You should have seen me in my prime.”
He dropped to the footstool and stared into the flames. “I spent the first hundred years or so after my death in a blaze of fury.”
“You mean you’re capable of more fury than I’ve witnessed?”
He shrugged. “You’ve only seen a few broken vases. I did that to get your attention. If I were truly angry, I’d have destroyed windows, doors, furniture. Once I even set fire to the cottage. Unfortunately, a rainstorm put it out before it could do damage. Old Duncan summoned the authorities, who told him it had probably been ignited by lightning.”
“I’m sure that only annoyed you more. You were probably hoping to add to your reputation as a fierce, angry spirit.”
He surprised her by throwing back his head and roaring with laughter. “ Aye. That I was. But there were plenty of other times I managed to create enough havoc to have the villagers whispering and the authorities cowering in their boots. To this day they refuse to come out here to the gatekeeper’s cottage alone, and especially after dark.”
“And that makes you happy?”
“Why not? What’s the harm? There’s little enough to amuse me here.” He went silent for so long, she thought