Midnight Whispers - Paranormal Romance Page 2

  “I was beginning to think you would never come.” He pulled off his hat and pressed it against his chest. “I’m glad you proved me wrong.”

  “I wasn’t aware we had an appointment,” Kyra replied as she hooked the bucket onto the end of the rope. This time she got it right the first try, and lowered it without difficulty.

  “Did you get the flowers that I sent?”

  “I did. They are lovely.” She pulled the bucket back up, unhitched it from the hook, and then set it down in the grass. “My aunt told me about your sister. You owe me no apology, Jacob. I would probably feel the same.”

  His mouth thinned momentarily, and then he smiled again, but some of the sparkle had left his eyes. “I’d appreciate you calling me Jake. Jacob sounds awfully formal.”

  Kyra smiled. “So did your letter. Pretty fancy words for a farm hand,” she teased gently.

  The grin was back, and he sketched her a mocking bow. “I can put a flourish to my words and speech when I’ve a mind to it,” he said in an affected accent, and she laughed. “My father’s mother was a school teacher and as such he thought it was very important that we be educated as well as hard-working. I could recite Plato’s Republic backwards to you, if you like.”

  Kyra raised her brows. “Really? Well why don’t you carry this back home for me and see how much you can get through?”

  He laughed, but picked up the bucket all the same. “Now you’re just trying to get me to do your work!”

  ****

  They continued to meet by the well every day, where they would talk about life, before Jake walked her back to the house, carrying the heavy bucket of water in his heavy, calloused hands. It turned out that he and her aunt knew each other better than Sylvia had let on—they chatted like old friends, and she discovered that before she came to live with Sylvia, Jake would come over a few times a week to help out.

  The more time she spent with him, the more her heart warmed. She had once believed, not too long ago, that she was destined for a life of solitude in the country, believing that because she was highborn she would have trouble connecting with country folk. But it seemed as though there was more of her mother in her than she ever realized because she felt more at home here than she ever had on any of her father’s estates, even surrounded by luxury.

  “Would you like to come and visit the farm?” Jake asked one day.

  “Visit?” Kyra wasn’t sure what to say. “You’d like me to meet your family?”

  He grinned. “They aren’t going to bite, Kyra. They’ve been curious to meet you.”

  “You’ve been talking to your family about me?” she teased. “I’m not certain whether I should be flattered or worried.”

  Hooking his arm in hers, he laughed. “Only good things, I swear.”

  Kyra dropped the water off and told her aunt where she’d be, who let her go without complaint. Kyra wondered whether or not her aunt had perhaps deliberately been pushing her in this direction, surreptitiously matchmaking between her and Jake. It was entirely possible she knew exactly when he would be at the well every day and so had timed when to send Kyra out.

  She couldn’t exactly blame her aunt, she thought as they crossed the field and approached the house. Up close it seemed even larger and grander than it had from afar—it was certainly no mansion, but it had a sturdy cheer about it that no amount of luxury could duplicate.

  Warm, honey oak flooring and furniture greeted her inside, gleaming in the morning light streaming in through the many windows. The walls were papered in cream patterned with yellow roses and tiny green leaves, and fresh flowers were set in baskets and vases on window sills, tables and other surfaces where they would be best displayed. Kyra took a deep breath and smelled their florid scent, along with the warm, yeasty aroma of freshly baked bread.

  Following the scent to the kitchen, she saw a woman standing at the counter with her dark hair tied back and a white apron covering her body, as she buttered a loaf of bread. Next to her was a young boy chattering away, his bright red hair sprouting up in tufts, a pair of suspenders barely managing to hold his trousers up against his small frame.

  They both turned to look at her with identical blue eyes, the exact same shade as Jake’s, and in a flash of awareness she realized that this must be Amelia and her young boy. Though the boy’s eyes were open with innocent curiosity, the mother’s were more assessing, suspicious even. Kyra held her gaze evenly, studying the faint lines that had begun to mar her smooth skin and her too-white knuckles as she gripped the counter.

  Jake moved forward, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the room and picked up his nephew, swinging him into the air. The boy giggled, and the sound warmed Kyra’s heart. “How are you these days, Jamie?” He propped the boy on his hip and turned to face his sister. “Amelia, I’d like the two of you to meet Kyra.”

  “Ah, yes, you’ve told us about her.” Some of the suspicion left Amelia’s eyes as she came around the counter. She gave Kyra a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and Kyra noticed that her posture was not quite relaxed. “You are Sylvia’s niece?”

  Kyra inclined her head. “I am. My aunt speaks highly of your brother, and your family. It’s very nice to meet you.”

  They chatted for a time, and Kyra found herself warming to Amelia—though quiet and reserved, she had an inner light and sweetness that seemed to beckon. She could see how a woman like her would’ve tempted a nobleman despite his common sense, though she still did not forgive the unknown man for his actions. If the experience had left bitter feelings toward her child, it showed neither in Amelia nor her son—Jamie was a bright and eager boy and seemed well loved.

  She met the rest of Jake’s family too—his father, mother and three brothers; one older, two younger. They all shared the same fair hair, blue eyes and sturdy bodies, and seemed to be a genuinely well-rounded family. Kyra enjoyed being with them, and was reluctant to leave when Jake announced it was past time to take her back. She allowed him to walk her home, though, not wanting to upset or anger her aunt by being late.

  “My family really seems to like you,” he whispered.

  “I quite liked them as well,” Kyra admitted with a smile.

  “You’re free to come by whenever you like,” Jake told her as they stopped outside her aunt’s cottage.

  “I might just do that.”

  He picked up her hand and, never dropping his gaze, pressed a kiss to her knuckles. Pleasant warmth tingled through her. “I would like that very much. Have a good evening, Kyra.”

  She watched him walk away, admiring his loose gait and muscled body as she cradled the hand he’d kissed, until her aunt called her name and she went inside.

  ****

  That night, she dreamed of death and darkness—the rebels were ransacking her house, breaking and looting her family’s precious belongings, slaughtering the house staff so that the stench of blood and sweat hung heavy in the air. She could still hear the cackling and shouting from the rebels, but intermingled were the sound of wolf cries—long, pained howls interspersed with snarls and angry growling. She groped blindly, wishing she could see what was happening, but darkness cloaked her, suffocating her until she could neither move nor breathe.

  When she broke free of the dream she sat up sharply, gasping for the breath she’d been denied in her sleep. As before, she heard wolf cries—but this time they were angry and pained, as they’d been in her dream. Frustration and curiosity rose up in her—what was the connection between her and these wolves? Was it normal for them to weave themselves into her dreams with such conviction? Was it simply a reality intruding on her nightmares, or something more?

  Sighing, she fell back onto her pillow. She didn’t know how, but somehow, some way, she was going to figure it out.

  ****

  “I am going to lie down for a bit, Kyra,” her aunt said one afternoon after they’d finished pulling vegetables from the garden. “You should take a bit of time for yourself to relax, if you like, or go
next door and visit the Whitakers.”

  Kyra smiled. “I think I will go pay them a visit. It will be nice to see them again.”

  Tying her bonnet beneath her chin, she stepped outside into the warm, sunlit air. Crossing the field, she allowed the sweet smell of grass and flowers to relax her. She’d intended to make her way to Jake’s, but found herself instead heading away from the Whitaker farm and toward the forest instead. She wasn’t certain what she would find there, or whether or not it was wise to ignore her aunt’s warnings, but something about it always seemed to call to her, and today it was stronger than ever. Surely she was meant to go in there, to discover whatever secrets lurked beneath the branches?

  It didn’t take her long to reach the forest, and she stopped for a minute just outside the reach of its shadow to study it. The trees stood tall and sturdy, strong and yet somehow peaceful at the same time, and other than the twitter of birds she could detect no wildlife. Was this really where the howls were coming from?

  Taking a deep breath, she stepped beneath the treetops and followed a path that appeared to be well traveled. Having seldom walked in a forest before, she was surprised at just how much darker it was— more light actually weaved in between the tree trunks than it did down from above the branches. The ground was thickly dappled with shadows, but her eyes adjusted quickly. She could hear animals rustling in the underbrush as they scampered away from her, and caught a glimpse of red as a cardinal shot past.

  As she headed deeper and deeper into the forest, she noticed that the tree trunks grew bigger and more craggy—ancient, she thought. It seemed fitting that the closer one got to the heart of the forest, the older the trees would be. What was strange was the fact that even though she was getting closer to the center, the wildlife was growing more and more sparse. She would have thought it would be opposite.

  The trees began to thin out, and suddenly Kyra found herself standing in front of a pale stonewall. It rose high, easily seven feet tall, and she frowned, wondering how it was she didn’t notice it until she was standing right before it. Generally with something so tall, one would see it from a distance, but this thing seemed to crop up out of thin air.

  “How strange,” she murmured, running a palm against the stone, which was warm to the touch. Something tickled her awareness, and she looked to the left to see an opening in the stonewall she hadn’t noticed before. Walking up, she realized this was the entrance to a maze.

  “Well, I’ve come this far,” she thought, after a quick look around. “I might as well continue on.”

  She wandered through the maze for a long while, and soon became hopelessly lost. Since she was without a single notion as to how to get back, she pressed forward doggedly, refusing to acknowledge the fact that the sunlight was waning at an alarming rate. For some reason, in her heart she believed that if she could just find the source of the howling before the sun set, she would not be harmed. She didn’t know why she believed it, but the conviction was strong enough to propel her onward until she was flat out running, clutching the skirt of her muslin dress on one hand and the bonnet that had slipped off her head with the other.

  When the exit to the maze finally came in sight, she could have cried—her relief was that great. Without a thought as to what might lay on the other end, she stumbled out of the maze, and smack into a rock hard wall.

  “Ahh!” she cried, clutching her forehead. As she looked up, she quickly revised her assessment—it wasn’t a wall she had slammed into, but into a very hard, very muscular chest. Her eyes traveled up, and up to rest on a handsome and very familiar face—the very same one she’d been seeing in her dreams.

  “Hello,” the man said softly, his yellow eyes gleaming. “And where have you come from?”

  She opened her mouth to respond, but she had trouble concentrating over the roaring in her ears and the sudden dizziness that overcame her. That’s it—she was hallucinating. There was no way this could be real. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and she slumped forward into a dead faint.

  ****

  Bryce leaned back in his chair as he watched the woman sleep. Long, flaxen hair spilled out against the pillow, no longer confined by that silly bonnet she’d been wearing when she’d fainted—he’d tossed it on a nearby table. Her lashes fanned against her creamy cheekbones, her blush-colored lips were parted slightly, and her chest rose and fell steadily as typical for one in a restful sleep.

  She’d already been unconscious when he’d caught her in his arms, and had provided little trouble to him when he’d taken her back to his cabin. Her body was slight and did not weigh much, but her size and strength were not what concerned him. It was the fact that she’d managed to find them at all. It had been a very long time since a human had last stumbled upon their location—and she had been a woman, too.

  When she’d first seen him, he’d watched her eyes widen in shock and horror, but also recognition, and that puzzled him, nagging at his memory. He was certain they’d never met before—he would have remembered her not just for her beauty, but her scent. Even now it wrapped around him, infusing the air with its combination of honeysuckle and spice—sweetness with a bite. He usually found that personalities often ran closely with scents, and knew that she would be a handful when she woke.

  More than a handful, I’d say, his conscience murmured, and he growled a little as his thoughts took a lustful turn. The simple muslin dress was high waisted, designed to show off her curves to perfection—and this woman was not lacking in the least. More than a handful, indeed.

  Shaking his head, he tried to focus, but it was hard—for some reason clear headedness had eluded him the moment she’d stepped into his line of vision. No—before that. He’d scented her at least five minutes before she’d appeared, when he’d been standing in front of the gates. It had been his turn to take watch, and though they usually did it in pairs, his partner had wandered off. So when the woman had appeared, he’d been the only one to see her.

  It wouldn’t take long before the others were alerted to her presence, and they wouldn’t be happy to see an intruder in their midst. He needed to wake her, and ask her questions first, because he had a good idea of why she was here, and though it didn’t make him happy, it also meant that he would have to protect her at all costs should his suspicions prove true.

  No sooner had he completed the thought did she start to stir. A smile curved his lips as he watched her eyes flutter. Good, good. Now they could begin.

  ****

  When she awoke, it was to find herself lying face up on a soft bed. For some reason her arms were stretched out behind her, and she quickly discovered why when she tried to move them—they were tied to the bedpost.

  “I was wondering how long you would be out for,” a masculine voice said, and she jerked her head to see the man sitting in a wooden chair, leaning on the back two legs as he casually munched on an apple. His eyes gazed lazily at her, and she blinked, noticing that they were a bright green. Had she imagined them to be yellow when she’d first seen him? Perhaps she’d projected it onto him from her dream?

  “Any longer and I would have had to wake you myself.”

  Kyra struggled to get free of her bonds, and only succeeded in rubbing the skin of her wrists raw. “Who are you?” she snapped, trying not to let the fear show in her voice. “Let me go!”

  The man leaned forward, and the front legs of the chair came down onto the wooden floor with a sharp snap. “Why would I do that, when you only just got here?

  I have so many questions I want to ask you.”

  “Like what?” Kyra snarled.

  He rose up to his full height, and Kyra swallowed as he towered above her briefly before perching his body on the edge of the bed, right by her hip. It occurred to her that she was completely at his mercy, and there was nothing she could do to stop him from doing anything he liked. And as his yellow eyes gleamed, the exact same look in them that had been there in her dream, she knew that he didn’t intend to leave her untouched
. And for some reason, that didn’t frighten her nearly as much as it should have.

  “Like how you managed to stumble upon our secret enclave. Like why you looked upon me with fear and recognition when I first saw you. Like why you smell so…intoxicating.” He leaned forward and dipped his nose into the hollow of her neck before Kyra could stop him, then inhaled deeply. Gooseflesh cropped up onto her forearms and the back of her neck, and she couldn’t stop the shiver from wracking her body.

  “Please move away from me,” she whispered.

  “Why on earth would I want to do that?” Each word he murmured pressed his lips against her collarbone, inducing yet more shivers. Her body grew hot and cold at the same time, confusing her terribly.

  “It is… uncomfortable, to have you so close.” She was embarrassed at her body’s reaction, and didn’t understand it in the least. This man had kidnapped her, proving that despite her utter lack of knowledge of him, he was dangerous. The only feeling she should be struggling with was fear and contempt.

  His eyes gleamed with laughter as he drew back and then stood, once again imposing his height upon her. “I can tell.”

  She glared at him, and then struggled to marshal her thoughts—perhaps if she could convince him she meant no harm, he would release her. “I was walking in the woods, taking some time to myself. I stumbled upon a maze, and thought it would be fun to see if I could navigate it. Now I’m wishing I hadn’t.”

  Bryce folded his arms and watched as she shot daggers at him with her eyes. Her dark eyes sparked with fury, and her creamy skin was flushed with passion. He wondered what it might be like to invoke a different kind of passion in her—one that involved using his lips and his hands, rather than words. He tried to tell himself that getting so close to her, so intimate was a way to throw her off balance so that she would have a harder time marshaling her defenses, but he knew it wasn’t really true. She beckoned him like flower did a bee—and he knew she would be much sweeter than any blossom.