Page 22

L eaving the restaurant, they walked in silence.

The dusk had darkened into night. Clouds obscured the moon but wisped high above, alternately revealing then concealing bits of starlight.

How much did Kate really know about Rory?

Deep down she trusted him. Should she? He hadn’t been upfront about his career to begin with, letting her believe what she wished.

Perhaps that was on her. He hadn’t actually lied to her.

But this, sharing a part of himself that made him vulnerable, that others refused to believe, that indicated his trust in her.

Kate shivered in the cooler air and had the distinct feeling of being watched.

She stepped next to Rory but glanced about as they walked the diagonal sidewalk through the town green.

At the statue she reached for Rory’s hand, needing reassurance somehow that she wasn’t all alone.

Somewhere she sensed malevolent eyes on them.

But who?

Everyone in town had been thoughtful, kind, welcoming—except the man who wanted to buy her inn, but even he had been ingratiating.

Only one person acted willing to spew venom at her.

Was angry blondie spying on them? At the thought Kate almost dropped Rory’s hand, but in defiance she stepped closer until they were shoulder to shoulder, brushing lightly against one another as they stepped around the stone Captain.

“Are you afraid?” Rory asked her, a laugh in his voice. “It’s only Hazard.”

Kate let out a long breath. “I’m a city girl, and it’s almost pitch black, which makes me walk with purpose and keep aware of my surroundings.”

“Ah, you miss the city lights and the noise?”

Kate shook her head.

“I’ve spent some time in the city.”

“You like it?”

“Better than here.”

Kate stopped cold, and they dropped hands. Rory turned back when she was no longer beside him.

“There’s nothing wrong with Hazard. I love it here. And I don’t miss the city, not even a tiny bit.” She couldn’t quite read Rory’s expression in the dark, but sensed hesitation.

“That’s good, then, for you. I’m…happy for you, that you’ve found your place.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, distancing himself from their earlier closeness.

They walked in silence back to the inn. They entered the front together, and Kate was shutting the door when she spotted, just for an instant, a flash of shiny white pleather under the streetlight.

Then it was gone. Was it the woman who’d accused Kate of lying to her and of trying to keep her away from Rory Rollins?

Kate was about to bring up the woman who seemed obsessed with him when Rory spoke.

“You were going to show me something?”

Kate shook off the negative thoughts. “Yes, come out to the back steps.” She motioned him to follow her through the hallway and flicked on the back porchlight. They stepped out together. Kate was about to point out the mouse skeleton when she noticed Rory staring down at the top step.

He tilted his head and pointed at the remains of a tiny, dead bird. A skeleton picked clean.

“Another one!”

“What? Really? You have a collection of bird skeletons?”

“Yes, well, not exactly.” She pointed at the window ledge where she had placed the mouse remains. Stark white bones shone in the porchlight. Rory leaned in close to view it. “This is what you wanted to show me?”

“Yes. It was so strange, I put it up here to preserve it.” Kate dashed inside to grab her dustpan. Together they transferred the bird skeleton to the wide window ledge to keep the mouse skeleton company.

“It’s so odd. I’ve never known a cat to do this.”

Rory nodded. “They usually just leave entrails.”

“Or bite the head off and leave the rest of the carcass.”

They both studied the bones, puzzling over them.

“Mystery cat,” they said in unison, and grinned at each other.

“Is the food gone?” Rory asked.

“Let’s check.” They moved together inside, Kate careful to lock up behind them, determined to be cognizant of safety. She left the porchlight on, however, and glanced back just in time to see a shadow flash over the steps—a cat in motion. “There, did you see that?”

Rory shook his head.

“The cat.”

“You saw it?”

“No, just its shadow, like before. It’s too fast and never gets close enough to me.

But it slept with you, so maybe you’ll have better luck seeing it than I’ve been having.

” At the basement door, Kate had to steel her spine while her litany danced through her head. She realized Rory was watching her.

“You are the innkeeper with a capitalI?”

Chagrinned, Kate said, “You heard me earlier? Or are you a mind reader?”

“Not a mind reader.” Rory gave her a gentle smile. “Sometimes I have to talk myself into doing what’s hard too. We all do.”

Resisting the urge to reach for his hand, Kate pushed open the basement door. Rory reached around her to flick the light switch. Instantly, the single bulb swung from the ceiling, casting shadows up and back and circular.

“Is there a draft?”

“Probably from opening up the door.”

But was there? The air felt still, waiting, yet the light swung of its own volition. Why?

Rory stepped down the stairs, Kate trailing behind.

His words, spoken so soft and low, she almost missed the invitation he made.

“Can I show you the past?”

Shivers raced up and down her spine, and Kate almost couldn’t speak. Despite her uncertainty, she managed a breathless, “Yes.”

Rory turned in the shifting shadows, and Kate sensed both camaraderie and gratitude.

Through the depths of her inn, past the hidden room to the tunnel entrance, Rory held out his hand.

A small gesture, yet Kate understood the significance.

She placed her slender hand in his strong grip.

For an instant she felt warm, safe. In the next, reality just tilted and spun.

Heat and cold washed over her, tingling from the tip of her head to her knees.

Had her feet disappeared? Instantly queasy, she wasn’t sure if she was still standing.

She shut her eyes tight at the sensory overload.

Her senses reeled, centered, and the present fell away.

When Kate opened her eyes, a young girl, no more than eighteen, was peering into the tunnel. A mobcap on her head, lace dripping from her sleeves, she wore a laced gown with a blue and white-striped full skirt and her feet were clad in sturdy buckled shoes.

“Be ye there?”

A loud voice admonished her. “Miss Prudence, ye shouldn’t be here. Your father would not be pleased.”

A large man loomed in the tunnel entrance, and the girl sashayed back with a frown. “Where does this go?” A man in a tricorn hat shoved past her, carrying a cask.

The looming man answered, “Just the wine cellar, miss.”

Tilting her head, the girl stood straighter and narrowed her eyes. “The wine cellar is back there, sir.” She motioned toward it with her chin. “Explain yourself.” Haughtiness reigned in the set of her shoulders. She was clearly the master’s daughter now.

“Ye are not to be down here, Miss. Why would a delicate lass such as yourself wish to be down here in the cool, dark belly of your home? That be for your servants.”

“They’re hardly our servants now, are they, Mr…?”

“Kennimoore, miss. And, aye, the servants take orders now from the British officers quartered here.” The man with the cask spit on the ground, and Prudence sidestepped and glared.

“Prudence,” a voice barked from above, and Kate’s view changed. “Come upstairs now, daughter of mine.”

After another glare at Mr. Kennimore, the girl conformed her expression into contriteness.

“Yes, Papa.” Prudence fled upstairs between her and Rory.

Automatically, Kate stepped back, as did Rory when the girl moved toward them.

They both stepped apart. Their grip disconnected, the scene vanishing from before Kate’s eyes.

She found herself breathing hard. Shadows shifted back to dimness, the scene gone as if it had never been there at all.

The swinging light slowed to a standstill.

Kate turned wide eyes on Rory. “What was that?”

“Prudence Worthy,” said Rory softly. “She used to sleep in your room on the third floor.”

“What? How can you know that?” Kate rubbed her arms, suddenly aware of the chill here in the depths of her inn. “You said you only had visions in the basement.”

Rory shook her head. “Upstairs, I dream.”

Kate stared at him. “You see the actual past, and you just…you just…you…” She couldn’t wrap her brain around the genuineness of what she’d experienced. How could Rory be so calm? They’d witnessed the actual past , unfiltered by time.

“Shared it with you. Yes, Kate, I see the past, and I shared it with you.” His expression vulnerable, he clearly expected rejection.

She couldn’t do it. Despite how unsettled she was by the whole experience, she couldn’t reject the man who’d given her such an incredible gift, short-lived as it had been.

He had opened her eyes into the past of her beloved inn.

Rory left soon after without a word—there simply weren’t any words to quantify the experience.

Kate plunked herself down in the drawing room in a heavily padded wingback chair and watched the shifting shadows as the moon rose higher in the sky outside.

The cat—the cat that wasn’t there—wandered in while she watched.

A shadow of a tail here. The pad of soft paws there, a pounce up onto the sofa, the barest indent in the cushions.

No actual cat made an appearance, only the hint and essence of one, gifting her with the sense of a cat at home in her inn. Kate didn’t even question it. Not now. Past and present existed simultaneously in her inn. She let that settle into her with quiet acceptance.

It wasn’t possible, and yet…

Outside under the streetlight the woman in the Tory Burch ankle boots paced at the edge of the dark park while Kate watched. Illumination spilled onto the swaying trees at the edge of the green, leaves swirling and dropping, autumn in full array.

All at once music flooded into Kate’s mind.

The piano beckoned. Leaving her female watcher to her own devices, whatever they were, Kate rose to settle herself at the ivory and ebony keys.

With a deep breath filling her lungs, she centered herself and began to play.

She didn’t know how long she worked on the sheet music.

But it came from within her now. She felt it with all of her being, and she lost herself in its beauty, lilting up then low, fingers flying over the keys.

When her phone chimed, she jerked and had to take a moment to realize it was the ringtone she had set for her father. She removed her hands from the keys and gripped the bench hard before reaching for her phone to answer.

“Katie-girl, I have a job for you.”

Kate bit back her sigh. “I quit, Dad. Remember? I’m an innkeeper now.”

“Course you are,” he said, his tone placating. “This would just be a bit of extra income for you to add to your coffers for fixing up your inn.”

Kate was tempted. She really was. Of course, her father would know that. He always knew how to reel people in—customers, employees, her. It was his way and why he was so successful at what he did. The man could convince anyone of anything. A skill she had learned and later rejected.

She wanted to be genuine, real, true.

Still, it was true that she could use the extra income for her rapidly depleting financial resources. Oh, she was so, so tempted.

“No, Dad. Just no.”

He let out a long-suffering sigh. “Offer stands.” And then he hung up.

And with that, all the emotions he wanted her to feel at the abrupt disconnect flooded into her. Doubt at her decision, longing for the security he dangled before her, a sense that she had better call back and take him up on his offer right away, lest he change his mind.

And that just ticked Kate off.

She knew he did it on purpose. Ending the conversation too soon was a ploy, done to make her run it all through her head over and over and over again, a strategy to make her want what he wanted her to want.

Ugh.

It was all too much: the past, the present, her past, her present, a cat that wasn’t there and yet was . Kate ran her fingers into her hair and dropped her head into her hands.