 
Find My Love 289

FIND MY LOVE

Copyright © 2019 by Maggie Tideswell

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

ISBN 13: 978-1076590886

ASIN: B07RBFKF3G

Cover design by Sandra Valente

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FRIDAY, 13 NOVEMBER

To my candle burning bright

Protect my secret here tonight

None shall listen, none shall see

Just the candle flame and me.

Soraya

Does anyone live here?

The house looked deserted, kind of spooky. Jess couldn't see any other homes nearby. Sally had not been kidding—this was a rather isolated place.

Dilapidated outbuildings behind the sprawling house looked as unused as the house itself. Some sort of creeper covered most of the buildings but not the house—it looked far too fragile to bear the added weight.

There were what looked like turrets on each end of the house, and a domed one in between. That might be a skylight. Jess worried her bottom lip. How old was this place?

Lightning played over the majestic mountains behind the house, silhouetted against the darkening sky, but down here in the valley, the late sun cast long shadows over an overgrown garden.

If she believed in it, it all fit so well with Friday the thirteenth, because this was creepy. What had she been thinking? She should have postponed the interview until Monday. One weekend surely wouldn't have made that much of a difference.

Jess studied the map on her tablet, which she held propped up against the steering wheel. This could be it, but she'd thought that about both the previous two places, and neither had turned out to be Weltevreden. Neither had been as eerie as this house, either.

I hope this isn't it.

Tapping her finger against the edge of the tablet, she studied the house again. The whole thing smacked of a Friday the thirteenth Sally-prank.

Sally, her bestie since high school, ran a very successful employment agency. The professional image notwithstanding, she still loved pranks of any kind—she'd never outgrow them.

Her eyes had lit up that morning when Jess sat in front of her desk, mugs of coffee steaming on the polished wood between them. The platter of doughnuts had been for Jess' benefit. Sally and her perpetual dieting.

"Something different," Sally mused, tapping her pen against her front teeth, then pressed a button on her laptop, and reached for the sheet of paper the printer spewed out. "This might be just the thing. It came in a few minutes ago." She'd tossed her platinum curls over her shoulder, grinning at Jess.

Another thing Sally would never outgrow, her Barbie-doll looks.

"It has my name on it, then." Jess leaned her forearms on Sally's desk. "Tell me, tell me, tell me." She grinned back, barely able to contain her excitement. "Does it involve a man?"

Neither Sally nor Jess had found their Mr. Full Potential yet, although both had been ready for wedded bliss, the kids and the house in the suburbs thing, a long time ago.

"As a matter of fact it does, but he doesn't seem to be in the market. It says here that a nanny is required for a four-year-old autistic girl. Dr. Arnold specifically requested that only older women be put forward for the position."

"How old-fashioned. Where is this job?"

"In the Wellington area." Sally frowned at the sheet of paper in front of her.

"There you go. He won't find anyone qualified to work that far from Cape Town. It is his child, I presume?"

"It is, but do you seriously want to give this a go?" Sally looked worried as only she could. It went with the Barbie look.

"I'm intrigued. What kind of doctor is he?"

"A veterinary surgeon. And a widower, it says here. That's all the information I have for you, I'm afraid." Sally sat back in her chair. "I shouldn't disregard so specific an instruction, Jess, but just this once, I'll make an exception. It's up to you to change his mind for him. It'll be in his own best interest in the end." She passed an information sheet across the desk. "I'll tell Dr. Arnold to expect you at four. I'd pack an overnight bag if I were you. Call me, okay?"

Now, sitting in front of the house that might or might not belong to Dr. Ben Arnold, Jess didn't feel all that confident anymore. And it didn't really sound like a prank, unless Sally had kept some information to herself.

There was only one way to find out, and that was to knock on the door and ask.

If there was anyone in the house to ask.

Switching the engine off, she consulted the rearview mirror to apply some color to her lips and pat her shoulder-length bob into place. She took a moment to admire the rich, auburn color in the late afternoon sunshine and sighed.

I don't know about this. It was a long way from Cape Town. What did people do around here for fun?

Trying her best to ignore the goosebumps on her forearms, she opened the car door and stepped out. Her heels sank into the gravel, her shadow stretching all the way back to the gate.

Only when she turned to the house did she see the man sitting on the top step in the shadows, his shoulder against the railing, one knee pulled up with his arm resting on top of it. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and it looked as if his feet were bare, too.

Was he there a moment ago? Why didn't I see him?

Smoothing her palms down her red pencil skirt, she started toward the house and the man on the steps, leaving the car door open for a quick escape, should she need it. If he wasn't Dr. Arnold, maybe he could give her directions.

Taking a deep breath, Jess reminded herself that she wasn't superstitious about this Friday the thirteenth nonsense. People liked to scare themselves with the silliest things. What was supposed to happen on this day? It was a day like any other.

That certainly looked like a real man on the steps. He wasn't going to bite her. Today being a Friday and the thirteenth meant nothing, but now she'd thought of it, the idea would stick with her like the taste of garlic.

She'd gone no more than a few steps when she heard something other than the crunch of her shoes on the gravel. It sounded suspiciously like a dog whining.

She slowly turned her head, her fingers curling into the fabric of her skirt. It couldn't be a dog. She hadn't seen any dogs when she drove through the gate.

I don't do dogs!

Then she saw them. Her breath hitched in her throat.

They were right next to her car, beside the door she'd deliberately left open, a whole pack of them. Their lips curled away from their teeth, their tongues lolling out the sides of their mouths, dripping saliva onto the gravel. Yellowish eyes watched every move she made.

Where did they come from?

They cut her off from the safety of the Fiesta!

Now she had only one way to go—into that house. Why hadn't that man called them off?

Why isn't he helping me?

Slowly, making no sudden moves, she took another step toward the porch. The dogs followed. Her heart hammered against her ribs. Another couple of quick steps forward. The dogs did the same.

That was more than her nerves could handle. She broke into a trot. The dogs followed. Her scream shattered the still of the afternoon.

Missing the first step, she stumbled, recovered her balance, and took the rest of the stairs two at a time. The dogs were on her heels, whining and yelping, their breaths hot on the backs of her legs.

She'd nearly made it to the top when a sharp whistle rent the air.

Before she had a chance to look for the source, she careened into the man she'd all but forgotten. Her momentum crashed them both to the floorboards, with her landing on top.

The dogs were everywhere, licking her and whining, and all she could do was to hide her face in the man's neck. Another whistle—right in her ear—made her cringe, but through her fingers she saw only empty space. The dogs were gone.

When the man lifted his head off the floorboards, his hands at her waist as if he was about to lift her off him, she pressed her palms flat against his chest to lift herself for a look at him.

He was clearly not amused.

At a glance she took him in. Stubble covered the bottom part of his face, his lips compressed into a tight line; a muscle jumped in his cheek. She gasped when she caught him dragging his eyes out of her gaping blouse to meet her stare.

She pushed herself upright. That those eyes were the greenest she'd ever seen, didn't matter, his ogling her did.

That was when she noticed how much leg was exposed by her skirt bunched around her hips. She quickly scrambled to her feet, pushing her clothes back down her legs as she straightened.

"Sorry," she muttered, her face on fire. She couldn't bring herself to look at him, but from the corner of her eye, she saw the stranger slowly unfold himself from the floor. Up and up he went, until she felt him peering down at her. Even in her heels, the top of her head barely reached his nose.

Peripherally, she saw his fists move to his hips, and flashed a glance up at his face. He was glaring hard at her. Tucking her hair behind her ears, she lifted her chin and stared back.

Despite her bravado, she was intimidated, and she had no idea if she had reason to be. She didn't have a clue who he was. For all she knew, he was a vagrant taking advantage of an abandoned house.

Quickly casting her eyes over him, hoping he wouldn't notice, she mentally clicked her tongue. A vagrant, looking like that? This man looked too strong, too well-fed, and clean, to be homeless. He smelled good too, of soap and sunshine.

Trying her best to be discreet in her study of him, she couldn't help noticing how the wide shoulders tapered to a flat stomach and slim hips. But when her eyes reached the well-washed denim cutoffs, she had reason to suck her breath in sharply and whip her eyes away. It wasn't that she was a prude or anything, but the button on the shorts was undone and the zipper halfway down.

And he had a hard-on!

Jess swallowed with difficulty, trying to look anywhere but at him. Eventually, her eyes settled on the garden, her safest bet until she managed to find out where the hell she was.

Mentally shaking herself, she decided he had to be the gardener or something around here. He'd be lucky if she didn't report his inappropriate reaction to her to his boss. If only she could locate Dr. Arnold.

If he was the gardener, he wasn't very good at it, judging by the state of the place. The flowerbeds were overgrown with weeds, and grass seeds reached for the sky. With a bit of care, it could be a rather pleasant garden.

Her attention whipped back to the man when he spoke. "What's wrong with you, woman? Those are lap dogs." His voice was deep, the timbre vibrating on her skin. "They thought you were playing with them."

Opening her mouth to inform him his apology would not be accepted, she snapped it shut when she realized he wasn't apologizing. She'd forgotten about the dogs. Erections did that to her, they made her forget everything else.

She took another look at the animals. There were only four of them, and now that they were at a safe distance and there was a man on hand whom they seemed to obey, they didn't look all that fierce, or even very big. By panicking, she'd unnecessarily gotten them both in a rather embarrassing situation, although he could have sidestepped her to avoid the collision.

The veranda was shadowed, despite the lightning dancing over the mountains, yet the peeling paint was clearly visible, she noticed. She should ask the man for directions so that she could be on her way, but her nose itched and she sneezed, just barely managing to get her hand across her nose in time. It was covered in dust from the floorboards, and she most likely had it all over her face now. She needed to freshen up before she met with Dr. Arnold. Rubbing her hands over her face was probably making matters worse.

"Bless you," the man said, his jaw clenched. "Explain yourself." Fists still planted on his hips, his bare chest rose and fell.

Jess' fingers curled into her skirt when she realized he was actually angry. But why? Knocking him over had been an accident, which he could have avoided it if he'd controlled the dogs sooner or stepped aside in time. His annoyance didn't stop him from giving her a thorough inspection, though.

Barely suppressing the urge to stamp her foot, she snapped, "Those animals should be locked up." The hand she pointed at the dogs with was streaked with dust. Dropping it, she rubbed at the smudge with her other hand.

"They were, until a few minutes ago. When the visitor I expected didn't show up, I let them out. Who are you and what do you want?"

"How rude!" Jess gasped. "Do you welcome all visitors half naked?" His arousal combined with his anger disturbed her.

"Uninvited visitors never come into the yard," he growled. He knew she was aware of his condition. "That's what the clinic entrance is for. And I'm not half naked, I'm shirtless because I took it off when my visitor failed to show up for her four o'clock appointment. In case you haven't noticed, it's hot. If you're Jessica James, you're too late—"

"The directions weren't very clear," she interrupted. "I got lost." Hesitating only a moment, she stuck her hand out to him. "You're Dr. Arnold, I presume?"

He ignored her hand and question, reaching instead for the shirt draped over the railing behind him and shrugged it on.

Doctor or not, the man has no manners.

Buttoning the shirt, he leaned in closer. "So, it's my fault you can't follow a set of simple instructions? Look, miss, you might as well go back to wherever you came from. The position has been filled. Good day." He started to turn away.

"What? When? I had an interview for this afternoon!"

He glanced at his wristwatch. "You missed the appointment. You wouldn't have gotten the job, anyway. Sorry for the inconvenience. It was nice meeting you, Ms. James. Goodbye."

She noticed his eyes on her lips even as he dismissed her. "Just a minute. You're going to disregard my application because I'm a few minutes late? I have excellent credentials, and the agency—"

"Had been told that only older women need to apply."

"So you're dismissing my application because of my age, is that it?"

"Yes. And you're more than a few minutes late. The appointment was for four o'clock sharp, and it's nearly six now. Take your gripes up with your agent, Ms. James. Your time-keeping actually has very little to do with it. Now, if you'll excuse me, you're wasting my time."

Jess narrowed her eyes. "I pity the person you've employed if that is, in fact, the truth. You are a very rude man, Dr. Arnold."

He wasn't exactly what she'd expected—in his early to mid-thirties, and attractive, in a wildly blond caveman kind of way. And hot.

If only he had some manners.

It had sounded quite romantic when Sally first told her about this position, but in reality it was far from romantic. She didn't need this man or his job, and especially not his erection. There had to be other positions available in Cape Town. Sally would find her a good job, with interesting work. She should get into her car and drive away without a backward glance.

A damp gust of wind blew her hair into her eyes when she turned to the stairs. Not being given a fair chance had nothing to do with it being Friday the thirteenth, she reminded herself.

It had everything to do with him being turned on by her.

Jess remembered the dogs when they jumped to their feet, tails wagging. She froze, clutching her skirt. They might be small, but they were dogs. They had teeth.

Damn it, she was going to need this man's help to get back to her car. Gnawing the corner of her mouth, she glanced at him. Would he help her, or would he cross his arms and enjoy the spectacle from the veranda?

Before she could do anything, the door behind them creaked open. Pale, gnarled fingers curled around the edge of the wood. Jess took an involuntary step closer to the doctor, goosebumps covering her entire body, her hand to her throat.

Oh God.

Jess stared at the door, holding her breath, as a very old face appeared. Only when the ancient lips smiled to reveal startlingly white teeth did she realize it was an elderly woman. She exhaled her breath, thankful she hadn't made a fool of herself by throwing herself into the doctor's arms. Imagine how he would have reacted to that?

"Are you going to keep the young lady on the veranda all night, Mr. Ben?" she queried. "Where are your manners? You could have offered her a drink by now."

A sudden rush of relief made Jess want to giggle. She opened her mouth to inform the woman that Dr. Ben Arnold didn't seem to have any manners, but he got in first with, "Ms. James isn't staying."

"Nonsense. Of course she is. Come to dinner. I set up in the dining room, in honor of our guest." The door swung shut with a little bang, her footsteps receding.

The doctor frowned, sucking in air through his teeth. "That was Ethel, my housekeeper. She won't forgive me if I don't, so you'd better join me and my daughter for dinner. It's the least I could do before sending you on your way." Locking eyes with her, he pulled his zipper up all the way, then scowled up at the sky. "Looks like we're in for a spot of rain."

Jess squared her shoulders, making an effort to relax. It wasn't the most gracious dinner invitation she'd ever received, but she was hungry. That little action of pulling his zipper up in the midst of an eye-lock spoke volumes, but she'd analyze it later.

And just because she knew he'd rather be rid of her, she accepted the invitation with a nod—to prolong his discomfort. But mostly, she had to at least see the child who had been the reason for her coming all this way in the first place.

What was his fixation with age, anyway? Didn't he trust himself?

Remembering how she'd straddled him minutes before and his unmistakable interest, she bit her lip and silently ceded him the point—the action of closing his zipper seemed to say hands off.

What he didn't seem to understand, was that his virtue was more than safe with her, regardless of the sexual tension between them. An hour or so over dinner with the child might validate her. She could demonstrate that she could maintain a professional relationship, even if he doubted himself.

Lightning flashed in the distance, followed by a faint rumble of thunder. He was correct about the weather closing in. Odd for this time of year, isn't it? Still, it had nothing to do with Friday the thirteenth. It wasn't her superstition, and the brewing storm was only weather patterns.

With a long-suffering sigh, the doctor opened the screen door and invited Jess into his home with a sweep of his hand, but the moment she turned to the door, the dogs scampered up the steps, yapping and snarling at each other.

He pointed his finger at them. "Stay!" They retreated and lay down on the gravel again, chins on the bottom step.

At least they were obedient, but that was all that could be said for the beasts. I'll never like dogs, no matter what.

The wind slammed the outer door behind them, flinging a few drops of rain against Jess' back. She shivered. As she walked down the passage ahead of him, she was very aware of Dr. Arnold's eyes on her. It would be best not to flaunt her femininity—it wasn't her qualifications he had a gripe with.

When she reached the hall, she stopped to look around. A weight settled over her like a cloak, overshadowing the disappointment of not being given a fair chance. The very air around her seemed to vibrate with sadness. A chill quivered down her spine, even though the dilapidated outer appearance of the house didn't extend to the inside.

The entrance hall was beautifully appointed, with dark wood paneling on the walls and somber dark wood floors. An intricate chandelier high in the domed skylight provided soft light refracted by dangling crystals. Pinpoints of light danced on the walls. A round, red patterned carpet under a round table in the center of the room softened the shining dark floors.

Jess jumped when she glimpsed herself in a silver framed mirror. It hung from the wall above a half-moon table, between two sets of glass doors. For a moment, she'd thought someone else was there with them.

Both sets of glass doors stood open, with blazing light spilling from them. On the one side was a formal lounge, and on the other the dining room. Everything shone with care, yet the house somehow felt...unwelcoming. She took a deep breath, trying to push the odd feelings aside. Her imagination was riding her hard. Dr. Arnold, still barefoot, ushered her into the dining room.

That was when she saw her, already seated at the table. She was the most exquisite child Jess had seen in a long time. Masses of white-blonde curls tumbled over her shoulders when she turned vivid blue eyes to Jess, her hands flapping against the tablecloth. Sally had mentioned that the child was four years old and autistic, but she looked delicate and small for her age.

When the doctor stooped to plant a kiss on the smooth baby cheek, the child jerked her head away, flapping harder. Smiling down at her, patting her head, he was about to take his seat at the head of the table when he seemed to remember his guest. The smile tightened as he held the chair to his right for Jess. Grudgingly, Jess guessed as she slipped into it.

He could take a flying leap—she wasn't interested in him as a man. Well, not much, anyway. It might have been a different story if he wasn't so grumpy, because he was hot, and she was a young woman ready to fall in love.

Deliberately, she turned her attention to the child. She knew she could make a difference to her, even if her father would deny his child her care.

"Hello," she smiled, ignoring the scowling doctor and her errant feelings. "What's your name?" The child eyed her suspiciously before shaking her head violently from side to side. "My name is Jessica, but you can call me Jess if you like." The flapping and shaking continuing, she didn't acknowledge Jess or her father any further.

"Amber," the doctor said sharply. The child stilled instantly to stare at the placemat in front of her.

Interesting. From frenzy to catatonia at a command from her father. Hmm.

Jess shook her napkin out and spread it across her lap, casting a furtive look about the dining room. The heavy drapes moved in a draft, the building storm muted behind them. She looked at the little girl as she smiled at her father.

"Now, Daddy?" she asked like any four-year-old would.

"Yes, sweet pea, go ahead," the doctor said, draping his own napkin over his leg.

Still hiding an erection, or is he over that now?

Amber scrambled to her knees. She could barely reach the crystal bell in the middle of the table, but when she had a firm grip on it, she shook it enthusiastically above her head.

Jess' brows drew together. That was odd. Now the child didn't show any symptoms of autism at all. She glanced at the doctor to see if he'd noticed, but looked at her as if everything was just peachy.

The old woman interrupted that look when she pushed through the door with a tray. The dim flash of lightning curled around the drapes, followed by thunder rolling down the valley. Seeing her in better light, she didn't look half as scary as she had out on the veranda earlier. Jess smiled at her, grateful for her insisting that Jess stayed for dinner.

The doctor watched the housekeeper take the bell from his daughter's hand after depositing the tray at his elbow. "Thank you, Ethel," he said when she replaced the bell in the middle of the table.

See, he can be courteous when he puts his mind to it.

Jess caught her lip between her teeth when the old woman lifted her brow at the doctor, but when he mimicked the expression at her retreating back, she had to suppress a giggle. The clearing of her throat was neatly veiled by rain starting to tap against the glass in the windows. Jess doubted the doctor would appreciate her laughing at him.

The door oscillated in diminishing half-moons when he turned the wine flutes over and lifted the corkscrew. "Wine?" he asked, still frowning at the door.

She nodded. "Please." One glass wouldn't affect her driving. On the tray with the glasses and wine, was a frosty glass of what she assumed to be milk. "Is this for you, Amber?" she asked as she lifted the glass off the tray. When the child didn't respond, Jess set it down within reach on her placemat.

The doctor scowled. What was eating him now? Was he always this grumpy, or did visitors rub him up the wrong way? Too bad. That was his punishment for not giving her a proper interview.

Watching his hands deftly uncork the bottle, a shiver stole over her body. What gorgeous hands he has! The nails were neatly trimmed and clean, the fingers long and slightly tapered. She'd swear those hands knew their way around a woman's body well.

She dropped her eyes, her cheeks warm, as she murmured her thanks for the beautiful crystal glass the doctor set down beside her placemat.

What is wrong with me? What would he think if he could read my mind?

To distract herself, she studied the table setting. This country vet certainly liked to dine in style, although one would never have guessed it by looking at his house from the outside. His abrupt manner also didn't leave one with the impression that he was a lover of beauty, who liked to surround himself with lovely things, like a beautifully laid table—a lace overlay with the buttercup yellow under-cloth, shiny cutlery, even a gleaming silver candelabra in the center.

Jess glanced at his face and away again when she caught him scowling at her. Her cheeks heated another couple of degrees. The child was a safer option, and she turned her full attention to her. She was yet again unresponsive, poor little dear. The place to the doctor's left, next to Amber, was also set. Who was be joining them for dinner? Mrs. Arnold? Sally had said the doctor was a widower.

Frowning, she lifted her glass to her lips. The wine was a deep, ruby red. Like blood. She shivered. Why had she thought that? She looked at the doctor just as he lowered his flute from his lips and met her gaze. A drop of red clung to his bottom lip, which he cleared with the tip of his tongue.

Jess stared, her breath stuck in her throat. Oh God, what was with her? She was on the cusp of trouble here, and that never happened to her. She had to remember she was here in her professional capacity.

It was an effort to drag her eyes away from his face. His glass was still in his hand, now half empty.

Thirsty or nervous?

In a way, she should be flattered her presence disrupted his equilibrium so much. He wasn't as immune to her as he seemed to want to be. As if that was her fault.

Fortunately, the kitchen door swung open again and Ethel appeared with another tray. Thunder rumbled overhead when she placed the tureen in the middle of the table and the ladle in front of the empty place opposite Jess. Standing behind the empty chair, Ethel rested her gnarled hands on its back and rolled her eyes up to the ceiling until Jess could only see their whites. After a moment, Ethel pushed the chair forward onto two legs so that the back rested against the edge of the table.

Jess looked up at the ceiling and then back at the chair balancing against the table. What the heck? The little hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

As if she was unaware of the weather and the creepiness around her, Amber squealed, "Now, Daddy?"

"Yes, pumpkin, now." Dr. Arnold smiled at his child. It softened the planes and angles of his face and made his eyes glow. He should smile more often, but not while she was here. He was too attractive for her delicate constitution as it was.

He caught Jess looking at him and their gazes locked. Amber might as well have been in the kitchen when she rattled all in one breath, "For-what-we're-about-to-receive-may-the-Lord-make-us-truly-thankful-amen," because Jess didn't hear a word of it. She was drowning in those green eyes. She had to open her lips to breathe, and that broke the spell. She turned her eyes to Ethel.

"That's lovely, honey," the old woman said, patting Amber's shoulder, but she grinned at Jess.

This can't be happening to me.

The child fixed a serious eye—for a four-year-old—on the elderly face. "Is my mommy here now?"

"Yes, she is, sweetie."

Ethel lit the candles in the candelabra, muttering something about the electricity on her way out. Pushing against the door, she glanced over her shoulder, her eyes going from the doctor's face to Jess'.

"Soup, soup, soup." The child bounced up and down in her chair. Ethel was gone, but the doctor was still looking at Jess—she felt the weight of his gaze. What was he thinking now?

Jess touched her lips with her fingers. They felt tender, as if she'd just been thoroughly kissed. Shaking her head, she tried to clear the fog in her brain, but instead, she saw the doctor's gaze where her fingers had been a moment before.

And then the lights went out.

It took a moment for Jess' eyes to adjust to the yellowish glow the candles cast around the table. How did the old woman know the power was going to fail? Did the storm knock it out? Looking around, she peered into the dark corners where the lightning, now more pronounced, didn't quite reach.

Oh, my word, this is a creepy house.

The doctor reached over and patted Amber's hand. "You're not scared, are you, baby girl?" Amber didn't pull away, her eyes going from her father to Jess and back. Were visitors that strange a thing in Ben's house? Or was it a woman at their table that had caught the child's attention? Surely, she couldn't have picked up on the tension between her father and their dinner guest.

A particularly loud clap of thunder rattled the windows, startling Jess. Even the glasses on the table trembled. It seemed to her to coincide with the doctor briefly resting his hand on the back of the chair balancing against the table. She shuddered violently.

Thunderstorms, creepy old houses, and Friday the thirteenth didn't seem to be a good combination. Jess shook her head and just barely stopped herself from clicking her tongue.

I am not superstitious. Just like I am not attracted to the grumpy doctor.

Thinking about him drew her eyes to the man. He still had his hand on the back of the chair when he glanced up at the ceiling before lifting the bowl from the unoccupied setting to ladle soup into it.

Mystified, Jess looked up at the ceiling. Why did both Ethel and the doctor look at that spot on the ceiling when they touched that chair?

There was nothing there.

Dr. Arnold served Amber next, then Jess and himself last.

"You can eat now, Jess," Amber declared, and added, "If you don't eat all your food, you can't have any honey cake."

"Dessert," the doctor explained. "Amber's favorite."

"Oh," Jess said, then to Amber, "I'll make sure to eat up. I don't want to miss out on the honey cake. It sounds delicious. Does it come with custard?"

She looked at the place opposite, half expecting the thick chicken soup to disappear into thin air. What had Ethel meant when she said Amber's mother was here? There was no one in that chair still leaning up against the table, and a few minutes later Ethel collected the untouched bowl of soup along with the three empty ones.

The little hairs on Jess' arms stood on end and she knew her nipples were pebbled. But she didn't want to draw the doctor's attention to that part of her anatomy by glancing down to check. Heavens only knew what he'd make of her physical reaction to the strangeness in his house.

Clasping her hands under her chin, her elbows on the table, she hoped to hide her anatomy with her arms. It was mostly a reaction to his spooky house, not him so much. Although his virtue was still safe, she knew she was telling fibs. In a different setting she'd never have reacted so strongly to his maleness.

The Beef Wellington was served to the empty place first—with Ethel rolling her eyes to the ceiling again—then to the rest of them. Again Jess expected the food on that plate to disappear into the ether, but it was delicious and she had no trouble finishing her own.

She glanced often at the doctor while they ate in silence, and a few times his lingering look on her dropped away when she caught him out. It would have been helpful if she could read his mind, but as she couldn't, she had no idea what he was thinking. Earlier he couldn't get rid of her fast enough, now he was staring at her to the point of making her uncomfortable.

It was raining in earnest now, drumming against the window, and Jess had to raise her voice to thank Dr. Arnold when he refilled her wineglass. She was beginning to understand why he wouldn't consider her for the position. A flurry of restless excitement bubbled up in her every time she looked at him, so much so that she imagined his lips on hers. And he kept looking at her in that way. He must have been alone for a long time.

Would it be rude to ask?

Jess couldn't even be sure this attraction was real, or whether it was the combined effect of the storm and his spooky house. Was it always like this around here, or only during unseasonal thunderstorms?

Still, Friday the thirteenth didn't come into it, she was sure of it.

And then, as suddenly as they had gone out, the lights came back on. All three of them blinked at the sudden brightness.

The little hairs on her arms didn't relax their vigilance, but she had to know if the doctor had something to ogle at. She preferred to assess her condition in the privacy of the bathroom. Pushing away from the table, she inclined her head at the doctor. "Where is it?"

He half-lifted off his seat. "In the hall, near the front door."

By the light spilling from the lounge, she made her way to the hall, and paused mid-stride when she saw Ethel beside the door she presumed to be the guest bathroom under the stairs, as if she'd been waiting for her. In the gloom, relieved only by sporadic flashes of lightning, the old woman looked insubstantial and unreal.

How old was she? Seventy, seventy-five? Whatever the number, she was too old for those heavy trays and looking after a four-year-old child with problems.

Oh well, not my circus.

The sounds of the storm were more pronounced here; rain pounded on the roof of the veranda and the wind shook the front door. As Jess was about to pass her, Ethel put her misshapen hand lightly on her arm. "You're finally here," Ethel said over the noise.

"What? Here at the bathroom door?" Shame, was the old thing a bit loopy?

"Cut the flippancy. I sent for you weeks, months ago. It was high time you graced us with your presence." The old voice was low but insistent.

When Jess tried to free her arm, Ethel tightened her grip. There was surprising strength in those bent old fingers. Jess' concern about the weight of the trays seemed unfounded, but still.

"I'm sorry, you must have me confused with someone else." She tried to sound confident, although tremors shivered down her spine.

"No, dear, I'm not confused. I sent for you, Jessica James." Ethel squinted at Jess in the low light. "You're very bright, the complete opposite of them. That's good. He won't make comparisons. A whole new beginning is what he needs."

Jess swallowed and tried to hide the fresh shivers. "What are you talking about?"

"Think of yourself as a gift, dearie." Ethel blinked, patting her arm.

"A gift." Unbelievable. Now she was convinced the old woman wasn't all present. "You can't give people as gifts," she said with a smile, yet she had to suppress the desire to run screaming from the house.

"I saw the way you two looked at each other over dinner. There has been enough tears in this house. I am so sorry for him." Ethel wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. "The little one is waiting for her pudding. Come to the kitchen later, after the child has gone to bed. We need to talk." The lights fluttered when Ethel started to turn away, but they didn't go out.

"I'm sorry, Ethel, I won't be here when Amber goes to bed. Why did you think I was staying?" In fact, the sooner she was gone, the better. This place, and its people, were seriously creeping her out.

"Haven't you been listening to me? You'll be staying the night, all right, and tomorrow night, and the night after that. You will never leave again."

Jess spun on her heel, deciding that she didn't need to inspect herself after all. The doctor could ogle if he wanted to, there was nothing she could do about it. If he concluded she was into him, he wouldn't be far wrong either, but she had to leave now, immediately, never to return to this nasty house.

She all but ran back to the dining room and the dubious safety of the doctor's presence.

In the doorway, she checked her panicked flight. She took a moment to study him while he was unaware of her watching him. What had Ethel meant by being sorry for him? How long had it been since his wife died? Surely a man like him wouldn't be hard pressed to build a new life for himself?

There was no denying it, Dr. Arnold was a very attractive man.

Jess shuddered when Ethel's last words rang in her ears. What did she mean, Jess would never leave again? What would keep her here?

She had to leave now, but she wasn't brave enough to face that pack of hounds on her own, playful or otherwise.

She felt quite out of sorts now. On top of the spookiness of the place and Ethel's predictions wearing on her nerves, the attraction to the doctor was undeniable and not a product of her imagination.

If only she could figure out why he looked at her the way he had been during dinner. His expression had given nothing away. Not that it mattered. She wouldn't see him again, and as soon as she was away from him, she'd be over this silly attraction to him.

"Will you walk me to my car, please, Dr. Arnold?"

Glancing at her over his shoulder, he pushed away from the table. "Of course. When you're ready."

He didn't have to be quite so keen to be rid of her. Jess chewed her lip. She was a bundle of contradictions today, not herself at all.

"Pudding," Amber reminded her brightly.

Jess smiled at the child. "Another time, perhaps. It was nice meeting you, Amber." The child's shoulders sagged and she stared at the tablecloth in front of her again.

Poor little mite. Jess would have loved to have been allowed to help her, but that wasn't going to happen. Her father had made up his mind.

Jess looked at the empty place next to Amber's. With the meal over, the chair stood on all four legs again. She couldn't help glancing up at the ceiling. The rain was coming down heavily and the wind flung it against the windows, reminding her that it was time to go.

Taking a deep breath, she braced herself for the miserable drive ahead of her. Perhaps she should go only as far as the village and check into the hotel. She had a packed overnight bag in her car, as per Sally's suggestion, and the storm was likely to work itself out by morning.

With his hand in the small of her back, the doctor steered her out of the dining room, her skin warming under his palm. That was the first time he had touched her. He hadn't even shaken her hand when she first arrived.

Ethel waited in the hall. "Thank you for an excellent meal, Ethel. Goodbye," Jess said, to which the old woman merely smiled. So much for her prediction that Jess would be staying forever. This was her leaving. Still, Ethel's smile made her tremble. Now that the decision had been made, the sooner she was away from here, the better.

Gift, indeed.

His hand still on her back, Dr. Arnold turned the veranda lights on. Jess pressed her nose against the mesh to look for the dogs. She couldn't see them, not even when the doctor opened the door and unfolded a huge umbrella from the stand beside the door. He tilted it forward to protect them from the driving rain. His arm circled her shoulders, although she would have preferred not to be touched. She would get over this ridiculous attraction as soon as she was away from him.

It isn't real, it can't be.

The dogs were most likely hiding somewhere from the storm. Jess wasn't complaining, not even about her feet getting wet as soon as they left the protection of the veranda. The driveway was a gritty quagmire and her feet slipped around in her high-heeled sandals.

Her car door stood open, just as she'd left it. Oh great, now her seat was going to be sopping wet. The day was getting worse by the minute.

As they neared the car, Jess heard the dogs a split second before a piercing whistle made her jump. That was really loud. But where were the dogs if the doctor was whistling them? She could hear them, but she couldn't see them.

Then it hit her—they were inside the Fiesta.

Forgetting not to touch him, Jess hid behind the doctor, gripping fistfuls of his shirt at his waist as she pressed her face between his shoulder blades. Muscles rippled against her knuckles, her forehead his body warm. He still smelled of sunshine.

She only glimpsed their backs as hairballs with teeth dashed past them and disappeared around the corner of the house.

"Damn dogs," the doctor muttered.

Jess braved a peek around his shoulder. Great. Not only wet, but smelling like a kennel, too. What a wonderful trip she was going to have into the village.

When the last dog jumped from the car, she pulled her head back, her fingers convulsing. "Ouch!" the doctor yelped, pulling her hands from his waist. Without meaning to, she'd pinched his skin in her death grip on his shirt.

"Sorry," she muttered, unsure if he could hear her behind his back.

He pushed the umbrella at her and pinned the last dog to the ground. The animal howled while the doctor untangled something from around its neck before he let it go. The dog took off into the rain and disappeared around the corner of the house.

Straightening, the doctor held out what used to be Jess' purse by the strap. The faux leather bag had been ripped to shreds. And it was empty. Gone were her wallet, her mobile phone, her cosmetics bag, everything that used to be inside.

Elbowing the man aside, Jess leaned in the open door of her car. The last thing on her mind was the view she presented to Dr. Arnold. It couldn't be helped that her rear end was in the air while she scratched around on the floor for her stuff.

The deafening noise of the rain inside the car hurt her eardrums.

Jess gasped at the extent of the damage. The driver's seat had been ripped apart, denuded of upholstery and padding, leaving the springs sticking up haphazardly in all directions. Even the steering wheel bore evidence of having been chewed, the plastic covering dangling in pieces.

"Oh, no," Jess wailed. "Where's my phone? And my wallet?"

She needed her credit cards if she was to check into the village hotel, if she could get there at all. She couldn't drive the Fiesta like this. "My makeup," she demanded when the doctor gripped her hips and pulled her backward out of the car.

When her heel came down on his bare instep, he howled, hopping around on one foot, rubbing the other with both hands. The umbrella flapped uselessly over his shoulder.

Folding her arms across her waist, she leaned against the car. She was drenched in seconds, her hair plastered to her head and her blouse to her chest. Water dripped from her skirt down her legs.

"Sorry," she said when she was sure he'd be able to hear her. Righting the umbrella over her head, he grimaced when he tested his weight on his abused foot.

He was as drenched as she was. Water dripped from his face onto the shirt plastered to his torso, molding it to the contours of his chest. The waterlogged denim shorts sagged on his hips. He looked hotter soaking wet than when he wasn't wearing a shirt at all.

Jess shoved the umbrella away. What was the point now? She was already wet clear through. In the sporadic light, she saw him take in the way her wet clothes clung to her, much like she had inspected him a moment ago. He wiped his hand down his face without taking his eyes off her. Everything had to be see-through, and clinging, and poking...

It wasn't her fault it was raining, just as she couldn't help being a woman reacting to his maleness. None of this was her fault, yet he wasn't giving her the job because she was a young woman.

I don't want to go, not now, not yet, regardless of the creepiness around here.

When thunder rumbled overhead, the doctor balanced the umbrella between the open door and the roof of the car. He felt around the debris in the footwells before reaching into the back to pull out the overnight bag she brought along. Bare feet planted on the gravel, he held out to her what he'd found.

With two fingers, Jess lifted what was left of her makeup bag off his palm. As it got drenched, stains from inside oozed through the padded fabric. Everything inside was broken, ruined, she could hear the Perspex bits rattling.

"Oh, no," she wailed as she pulled out a mangled piece of plastic. "Lipstick gone." She tossed it over her shoulder into the rain, closing her eyes for a moment. "Please, not the shadow." But the compact was shattered and oozy. "Argh!" It followed the lipstick into a puddle. "Please, let the mascara be okay."

But there was nothing in the padded pouch she'd bring near her face again, and it slipped from her fingers to the ground by her feet.

The scrap of leather left on the doctor's palm used to be her wallet. Pinpoint beams fell across her face when she lifted a piece of twisted plastic to the veranda light. The thick coating of slime washed away in the rain.

Her iPad had puncture holes right through the screen in several places. It was never going to work again. She tossed it onto the back seat. The computer bag was ripped, but the laptop itself seemed to be unharmed, thank God. She hugged the bag to her chest.

"What am I going to do?" She felt embarrassingly close to tears. "Where's my mobile?"

The doctor shrugged. "That's all that was in there. Damn dogs," he muttered. "They've never done anything like this before." Shoving her ruined possessions into his pockets, he picked up what was left of the cosmetics bag from the ground before slamming the car door shut. "You won't be going anywhere in that tonight. We'll have a look at it in the morning. Come, let's get you inside. You're soaked through. I'm sorry." He slung the strap of her overnight bag over his shoulder. Rain tapped on it, rivulets running into the rent across the top. Her things were going to be soaked.

"Yeah, I bet you are. Now you're stuck with me for the night." The urge to laugh died a sudden death when she looked up at the creepy old house. Ethel couldn't have known the dogs would be the means of keeping her here.

When Jess felt his hand in the small of her back, his palm hot against her cold skin, she looked up into his face. His jaw was locked again, his eyes hot.

The next moment she gasped when she missed her step, the laptop bag slipping from her fingers. Screwing her eyes up tight, she braced herself for the fall.

It never came.

Instead, she found herself wrapped in the doctor's arms, safe against his chest. She felt every inch of him against her, his heart hammering against her breasts. The surprise was his erection pushing against her. There was no time for her to consider what the cold did to penises, and him having an erection regardless, because his mouth closing over hers wiped all thought from her head.

His lips were cold, but heat flowed through her. She wrapped her arms around him, because her knees threatened to buckle under her. His head angled, his arms securing her to him.

This was so unexpected of the grumpy doctor, so out of character for him, it never occurred to her to object. Yet, she wasn't getting the job because of this, Doctor Ben Arnold's attraction to her.

When thunder boomed directly overhead again, he jerked upright and away from her. Jess staggered, prying her eyes open with difficulty against the rain pouring into them.

Fists planted on his hips, the doctor breathed heavily at the soggy ground. His hair was plastered to his head and water dripped off his nose, a muscle jumping in his jaw. Eventually, he had to look at her.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that. I don't know what came over me. I don't normally pounce on women I barely know. I assure you, you are quite safe with me. Let's get out of this rain." His eyes dipped. "You're cold." He took the laptop bag from her, hooked it over his shoulder, and took her hand.

Just barely resisting the urge to cross her free arm over her embarrassingly recalcitrant nipples, she valiantly tried to keep up with his long strides, her feet slipping around in her high-heeled sandals. It wasn't her fault it was raining. And he'd kissed her. Of course her body would react to such an onslaught.

For a first kiss, it had been pretty darn spectacular. He, and anyone else who cared to look, were welcome to know that kiss had hit the spot. Now, more than ever, she wanted to stay right here, to see where this thing would take them.

As she brushed her soggy hair off her face so that she could see where she was going, she saw the stooped shadow slowly turn from the front door.

Ethel!

She must have seen the doctor kissing her.

And then her gaze was drawn to the roof of the house just as lightning snaked across the black sky, illuminating a row of birds on the apex. She gasped at the sight. They just sat there in the rain, watching, waiting. She stopped in her tracks, clinging to the doctor's hand.

Were those owls? The old lady's predictions and owls?

Wow.

Owls were harbingers of death, weren't they?

She was about to reconsider the significance of Friday the thirteenth when the owls took off into the night without a sound and were swallowed up by the rain.

Had the doctor seen them? Before she could ask, lights swept the front of the house, and another car pulled into the driveway. It stopped beside her Fiesta.

Jess turned with the doctor to look at the new arrival, the rain drumming on the umbrella, once again in its rightful, if unnecessary, place.

A woman climbed out of the car and shook her mane of blonde hair. Blinding light flashed off it, followed almost instantly by thunder crashing overhead. The woman hunched into her collar as she ran to them, pulling a single earphone out of her ear and protecting her mobile between her hands. The dogs barked from the corner of the house, but they didn't venture closer.

She ducked under the umbrella. "Hello, Ben. How are you?" she gushed. She bore a striking resemblance to the doctor's child, their coloring exactly the same.

It was suddenly crowded under the umbrella. Even though not a drop of rain clung to the newcomer, she should have the protection, but Jess was reluctant to make room for her.

The doctor swallowed hard as he dropped her hand. "Roxanne?" His voice was little more than a hoarse whisper, barely heard over the noise on the umbrella.

Jess' eyes flicked between them. Who was this Roxanne woman, and what was she to the doctor?

"It's Millicent, Ben." The woman smiled.

The doctor cleared his throat. "Of course it is." He drew an audible breath. "What brings you to Weltevreden on a night like this?"

Okay, who was this Millicent woman, Jess amended, and where did she fit in?

"I couldn't get here fast enough. I thought you'd be expecting me. Don't tell me you have forgotten, Ben. How could you?" she pouted, a dimple appearing on either side of her sensuous mouth. The doctor stared with jaw locked as the woman's fingers raked a strands of silvery hair back from fluttering across her face. It looked like spun sugar in the unstable light.

"Why should I have expected you, Millicent? Did you text me?"

"Of course I didn't. I didn't think you needed a reminder." She sighed. "Never mind, I'm here now. Let's get out of the rain. It's miserable, isn't it?" They started up the stairs awkwardly, three under the umbrella. She seemed to notice Jess for the first time. "And you are...?" Millicent asked Jess across the doctor's chest.

Ben answered for her. "Millicent, this is Jessica James. She's spending the weekend at Weltevreden." He was scowling again.

Now it was the whole weekend, where a moment ago it was only the night. Old Ethel's predictions were coming true.

The blonde head turned to Jess. "Spending the weekend? Your girlfriend?" Cobalt eyes looked Jess up and down, from the rain darkened hair plastered to her head, taking in the soaked shirt clinging to her body, all the way to the rivulets running into her sandals. The woman held up a hand. "Never mind, forget I asked. Why are you both wet?"

"Jessica isn't my girlfriend, Millicent." He couldn't seem to take his eyes from the woman's face. "We were getting her things from her car, and it is raining. Why are you here, Millicent? After all this time, why now, why tonight?"

Before she could answer, the passenger-side door of Millicent's car opened. They all turned to watch a tall man unfold himself. He was immediately as soaked as they were, and from the set of his jaw, it was clear he was not amused. Millicent quickly closed the distance between them, tiptoeing through the wet.

"I told you to stay behind me once we got here, Millicent," the man bit out, brushing a strand of long wet black hair behind his ear to reveal a silver half-moon dangling from the lobe.

Jess blinked. The man was wearing a dress! It reached just past his knees. Rainwater flooded his sandals and plastered the hair to his calves. She had to catch her lip between her teeth, hard.

Glancing up at Doctor Arnold's face, she noticed his eyes were stiff in his head, still fixed on Millicent, who was looking at the other man with awe.

"I'm sorry, Daemon, I forgot," she purred.

Did she just call him Demon?

"This is Ben Arnold, my brother-in-law, and this is Jessica something or the other, who isn't his girlfriend."

The other man came closer and shook Ben's hand and then Jess'.

She bit her lip and looked off into the darkness. This was so Gothic—the remote setting, the stormy weather, the beautiful but nasty bitch. Jess was still undecided if the doctor qualified as the adorable rake. And she herself was the damsel in distress for the moment, stranded because her car was undrivable, leaving her dependent on the goodwill of the man of the house.

Hmm, she didn't like the last part much.

Only when Dr. Arnold said, "Come, let's all go inside," did Jess remember how cold she was. She quickly glanced up at the roof, but the owls hadn't returned. She made a mental note to ask the doctor about them later.

In the hall, he dumped Jess' bags on the floor just as Ethel came in from the kitchen. "Ethel, please show Miss James to a room. She'll be staying with us for a few days."

Ethel grinned at Jess. "I told you you wouldn't leave, didn't I? Come along now, before you catch your death." She ushered Jess along to the foot of the stairs and continued up when Jess paused, her hand on the newel post, to watch Millicent and the devil-man appear at the door, to see them both in better light. Rainwater puddled around her heels.

Startled, Jess sucked in her breath when Ethel flew down the stairs again and past her, making a beeline for Millicent just as she was about to enter the house on the odd man's arm.

Gripping the edge of the door, Ethel demanded, "Where did you come from?"

"What's it to you? I don't need to justify myself to you," Millicent hissed.

"Why don't you go away and stay away. You interfere with the energies." Ethel made to swing the door closed in the newcomers' faces.

"Mind your own business, old woman." Millicent blew across the threshold, bringing wind and rain with her. "You know nothing. She's finally lost her marbles, Ben. It's time for her to retire."

"Close the door, Ethel, before we all blow away," the doctor said, watching everyone with his hands on his hips. When he caught Jess' eye, their gazes locked.

Jess remembered the kiss out in the rain. She wanted more of where that came from, now that she was staying, and she tried to tell the doctor so with her eyes.

But Ethel distracted her. "It was better when this one was safely outside," she muttered, heading for the stairs again. "Come, miss. With any luck, she'll have disappeared by the time you get back downstairs."

Before she could turn to follow the old woman, Jess saw the way Millicent glared at Ethel's back. The devil-man paused beside her, to also stare after Ethel. He looked confused, clearly not even aware of dripping on the floor. Jess dismissed him, because the animosity between the old and young woman struck a discord. It was as if they hated each other.

Jess looked up at the doctor when he paused beside her to gently touch her hand before leading Millicent and the man with her, still staring up the stairs, to the lounge. He left large wet footprints on the floor as far as he went.

"Make yourselves at home," he told the newcomers. "I'm going upstairs to change. Ethel will bring towels for you. Excuse me."

Jess waited as the doctor picked up her bags. He didn't look at her, but took the stairs two at a time. She glanced at the two people in the doorway to the lounge. A puddle had formed on the floor where the strange man stood staring after the doctor. Millicent turned away as soon as he was out of sight.

Jess followed the doctor more sedately, the stairs creaking under her. Ethel had already disappeared around the corner of the landing and by the time Jess caught up with her, had flung a door wide and switched the lights. Jess' bags stood in the passage by the door. The doctor was gone.

"This is the nanny's room. It's been unoccupied for many years, but I got it ready for you. The bathroom is through there. If you need more towels, there are plenty on the shelf. Amber's room is on the other side through that door."

Retrieving her bags, Jess followed Ethel into the room. A friendly fire was burning in the grate. "Do you know Millicent well?" Jess asked to delay the moment when she'd be alone in this creepy house. Lightning struck somewhere in the mountains, and the thunder following deafened the two women for a moment.

When the sound faded away, Ethel said, "You could say that." She closed the drapes over the dark window.

"You don't like her much, do you?" Jess pressed, tossing the laptop bag onto the bed.

"Whatever gave you that idea? There is extra wood in the bucket. You'll find your way back downstairs?" Ethel queried from the door.

"How did you know to prepare the room and light the fire?"

Ethel grinned. "I told you, I knew you were coming today. Everything had been prepared for you."

Jess didn't believe her. The decision for her to come had only been made this morning. There had to be another, logical explanation. "Maybe you knew Millicent was going to show up and that Dr. Arnold would use her presence as an excuse to keep me here. But how did you get the dogs to destroy my car so that I couldn't leave?"

"I did nothing of the sort," Ethel said indignantly. "It wasn't necessary. And Millicent never tells anyone her plans." The old face creased into a wide grin. "Why would Ben keep you here because she came? No, dearie, you belong to Mr. Ben."

Goosebumps that had nothing to do with the cold covered Jess' arms. Not his gift anymore, but now his property.

"Has there ever been anything, um, you know, romantic, between Dr. Arnold and his sister-in-law?" Jess asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed, regardless of her dripping wet clothes.

Ethel stared at her. "Don't be absurd. What makes you ask such a silly thing?"

"It was the way he looked at her."

"She reminds the poor man of his wife. He's suffered enough." Ethel turned away. "If you need anything, I'll be in the kitchen."

After Ethel had gone, Jess frowned at the carpet under her feet. She had not mistaken the longing in the doctor's eyes when he'd looked at Millicent. She rubbed her wet nipples with her palms.

"You can relax now, girls," she told them. "He's not interested anymore now that his sister-in-law is here."

Damn.

She glanced about the room. It wasn't very big, but it was lovely and warm. It had been done in functional beiges and creams and browns. Apart from the bed, there was a wicker chair in the corner and a dressing table against the wall by the door. Next to the bathroom door was a writing desk with a chair. Sighing, she took in the wide padded seat in the window—a rather decadent detail for a nanny's room, but she could so picture the uses for it.

Sounds interrupted her thoughts. It sounded like voices. Where were they coming from?

Straining to hear past the rumbling from outside, it seemed to be coming from under her, from the bed itself. Jumping to her feet, she pressed her back to the farthest wall, next to the desk.

What the heck! A protesting bed?

Swallowing hard, she tried to clear the fear from her throat. Get a grip. Ethel said the room hadn't been used for some time, so the bed creaked with disuse and her imagination turned it into voices.

Marvelous.

She pressed her palms flat against the wall behind her. It was either that, or run screaming from the room. Jess doubted she'd sleep a wink in this weird house, but right now, she should get a wiggle on, or she might miss something interesting downstairs. She sidled along the wall to where she'd dropped her bag in the middle of the floor, and tossed it onto the bed. It bounced once, and again she thought she heard the bed mutter. Retreating, she clutched her hands under her chin.

That had not been a clever idea, to throw the bag onto the bed, even if talking mattresses belonged in cartoons. This one didn't seem to know that.

She was freezing despite the fire burning cheerfully, and her spare clothes were in the bag, which was now on that weird bed.

How was she going to get to it now? Could the bed do more than talk?

The wind howled down the chimney, the fire crackling in response, sending sparks shooting up the chimney. Jess shivered convulsively.

"Ben!" she called, then caught her lip with her teeth against a louder effort. The doctor had guests now. She couldn't hog his attention, even though her instincts clamored for him. She could handle the strangeness when he was near her. She just wanted him close to her.

Ninny!

Jess eyed the bag wearily. Seeing it in good light, it was clear that it was in worse condition from the dogs' mutilations than she had thought at first. It was doubtful there was anything in there left in one piece, or dry enough, for her to wear.

If she could get near it at all!

Approaching the bed slowly, she jumped, clutching at her chest as thunder boomed. It was a long moment before she braved another step closer to the bed.

It was a bed, damn it! Made of metal and wood and fabric. It couldn't do anything but creak when sat on. It didn't have a will of its own.

Jess squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and snatched the bag, quickly retreating to the wall, expecting retaliation despite her brave thoughts. When nothing happened, she clicked her tongue.

It was a bed, for goodness' sake!

Kneeling against the wall, she unzipped the bag and tipped the contents onto the floor. As she expected, most of the clothes were too wet for her to wear. But just when she started to despair, she found a pair of jeans in the very bottom of the bag, with a blue, long-sleeved cotton knit top that was passably dry. There was a pair of socks that would do if she folded the tops over several times. All the underwear were too damp, though. The sneakers, in their plastic protective covering, were bone dry, thank God.

She set everything out on the wicker chair in the corner. Even though she kept telling herself the bed was just a bed, she wasn't going near it.

In the bathroom, she sighed at the sight of her smudged mascara and limp hair. Oh well, she wasn't here to flaunt herself. Stripping off her wet clothes, she rubbed herself vigorously with the towel to get the circulation going, leaving her skin rosy and tingling. Then she wrapped the towel around her head. It took a few moments for the water to run hot enough to wash her face.

Padding naked back into the bedroom, she grinned at the thought of going without underwear. An intriguing first for her. She felt deliciously decadent as she dressed, and wrapped a knitted scarf around her neck as an afterthought. To hide errant nipples behind, she giggled as she quickly ran her fingers through her hair. Without a brush, there wasn't much else she could do.

Several minutes later, just as she pulled the door closed behind her, Amber's voice echoed throughout the house. "Daddy! Daddy!" The child had healthy lungs, one had to give her that.

Her smile dwindled when Millicent's voice carried upstairs. "Poor darling. It's just as well I came. Ben needs my help with her. Order and discipline has clearly not been a priority in the past year." She might have stood in the hall for all Jess knew, her words were so clear. "Ethel, serve the drinks. We've come a long way and Daemon must be thirsty."

Dr. Arnold reached Jess from the far end of the passage just as she turned the handle on what she assumed to be Amber's bedroom door. His damp-darkened hair stuck up in all directions, and he now wore a dry sweatshirt and jeans that hugged his hips and defined the muscles in his thighs, although his feet were still bare.

His eyes slid over her, just as she was appraising him. She knew the jeans fitted her like a glove and the cotton top emphasized her high, firm breasts and narrow waist. Her nipples strained against the soft fabric in response to his interest. Jess quickly turned her back on him with a toss of her head. Her hair was drying in a fluffy cloud of curls. He followed her into the room.

The little girl looked tiny in the middle of her bed in the beam of light that fell across the room from the passage. Lightning licked around the dark drapes until the doctor threw the light switch, illuminating the pinks and yellows of the child's bedroom. There was a heap of stuffed toys at the foot of the bed.

"What's the matter, pumpkin?" the doctor asked, pulling the child onto his lap as he sat on the edge of the bed. "Your Auntie Millicent is here for a visit. You can see her in the morning, okay?"

Amber shook her head, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders. Bright blue eyes swiveled to Jess. "I want my mommy," she demanded.

"Darling, Mommy isn't here."

"She is, she is," the child insisted, staring at Jess past her father's shoulder. "I don't like Millicent." She sounded almost adult then.

A shadow appeared in the door, then Ethel was there. She stretched her arms to take the child. Amber went into them willingly and snuggled her face into the wrinkled old neck. Ethel rocked her for a few minutes, then cooed soothingly as she put her back to bed. "There now, settle down, Amber. Say good night to Daddy and Miss Jessica. Don't make a fuss." She planted a smacking kiss on Amber's forehead. "Sweet dreams, hon," she said, leaving the room as quietly as she'd entered it.

"I'm thirsty, Daddy."

Jess saw an empty glass on the bedside table. "I'll get you some water, okay?" She went into the bathroom through the interleading door. Waiting for the glass to fill, Millicent's voice drifted from below again, but Jess couldn't make out what she was saying.

Amber snuggled into her pillows, clutching her father's hand, when Jess returned with the water. "Mr. Poo, Daddy," the child said sleepily after only a sip of the water. Delay tactics. Jess smiled.

The doctor put the glass on the table. "Where is he, sugar?"

"Under the bed."

Rolling his eyes at Jess, he ducked under the bed to retrieve the toy. Amber's lids were already drooping, her thumb in her mouth, by the time her father tucked the monkey into the crook of her arm and kissed her forehead.

"Sleep well, sweet pea." Jess wriggled her fingers at the child from the door and got a little wave back. "She isn't normally difficult at bedtime," the doctor said as he softly closed the door behind them. "It's Millicent."

"Kids don't like to be left out," Jess said. "You were very surprised to see your sister-in-law."

"I was. I haven't seen her since Roxanne... I wanted to shake her and ask her why she was still here when her sister had been ripped from my life. I suppose I wanted her to be Roxanne."

"What happened to your wife?" Jess asked gently.

"She died a year ago." He started down the stairs.

"Amber was very insistent about her mother. Does she think Ethel is her mother?"

"It's possible. Ethel has been her primary caregiver since birth, and the only woman to look after her since Roxanne died. It's hard to say how much Amber remembers of her mother. Replacing Ethel is going to be difficult, but she is getting too old to mind a young child. It's not fair on either of them."

"Ethel will still be supervising, won't she?"

"Yes, but it won't be the same." He took her arm to stop her midway down the stairs. "I'd really like to offer you the position. Your resume is rather impressive—but I can't." His thumb drew circles on her wrist.

"I thought you said you already employed someone." She slanted him a glance.

He grinned sheepishly. "We both know I told a fib."

Jess smiled, her heart warming. A grown man, fibbing? That was so sweet. "What's stopping you from employing who you think best for the job, Doctor?"

"Please, call me Ben, Jessica. I wanted an older nanny. There wouldn't have been any awkwardness, like we've already had since you arrived. You must return to your life in Cape Town as soon as possible. That's all there is to it. Sorry."

His hand tightened on her wrist until she looked up at him. He had the most gorgeous eyes. They were a deep green she could drown in, ringed by thick black lashes.

"Is it because of Millicent?" Jess whispered. The feeling persisted there was, or had been, something between him and his sister-in-law.

But as the thought flitted through her mind, she felt something completely alien happening to her. It was as if she was being pushed closer to him by an odd pressure in the middle of her back, along with pulling from her belly button. She tightened her grip on the railing. It would only confirm his wariness of a younger woman if she were to fling herself into his arms. Her breasts should not ache to be crushed against the hard wall of his chest, she should not be breathless with anticipation of his mouth on hers.

Good grief, she didn't even know the man!

Jess ran her tongue along her suddenly dry lips. This was most unlike her. She didn't ever react this strongly to a man she had only just met. Those green eyes were to blame; they were her undoing.

She had to put some distance between them so that she could think clearly.

Spinning away, she promptly missed the next step and would have fallen had Ben not caught her around the waist and pulled her up against him. His face was inches from hers, his lips slightly parted, his breath fanning her cheeks. All he had to do was drop his head a fraction for their lips to meet.

Excitement thrilled through her all the way to her core. Her hips tilted into him, brushing against the bulge in his jeans.

Wow. Again or still?

And she wanted him, too. Now, she wanted him right now.

"What's going on up there?" Millicent demanded from the hall below, breaking the spell.

Ben shook his head slightly as he released her and stepped away. "Jessica, that's exactly what I mean. I'm only a man." His husky voice did things to her. "And you're a very beautiful woman."

Swallowing her disappointment, she understood what he meant, even if she didn't want to accept it.

"Millicent has nothing to do with it, except that she is my wife's sister," he said as he passed her and trotted the rest of the way down the stairs.

Jess moistened her lips, watching him until he disappeared into the lounge. Blood pounded in her ears, she could barely breathe.

Good grief.

Arranging the scarf to hide the evidence of her arousal, she knew this was another first for her, because she had never been attracted this strongly to a man. A moment ago, she had been ready to drop to the carpet for him. And it wasn't over yet—she still wanted him.

But they had only just met!

She stood where he'd left her, unsure what to do. The voices from the lounge drifted up to her. She didn't want to go in there, but the only other option was to go back to her room.

And put up with a talking bed?

She'd already half-turned and was looking back toward the upper-floor landing when Ethel beamed her strange white smile down at her from there. The tiny hairs all over her body stood to attention.

That decided the matter for her, and she rushed down the stairs after Ben. Did he know how weird his housekeeper was?

Millicent tapped her mobile against her chin, studying Jess when she passed her into the lounge. "I'm not sure if that is an improvement on the wet look. You still look cold."

Jess pulled the ends of the scarf tight—feeling like a naughty schoolgirl being inspected after a transgression of the dress code—and squared her shoulders. She was a grown woman, and how she dressed concerned no one but herself. Ben's sister-in-law could bugger off and Jess would enthusiastically wave her goodbye. She had an instant dislike to the woman, because, Jess suspected, she had an agenda that involved Ben. Why else would she be here?

Another first for her—jealousy. Never before had she been plagued by that green monster.

Ben came straight to the point. "What brought you here in such a hurry, Millicent?" he asked, hands on hips. "After such a long silence, why today?"

"I can't believe you have forgotten so soon." Millicent stared first at him, then at Jess, then back at him. "You have forgotten, haven't you?"

"What are you talking about? What am I supposed to have remembered?" He sauntered over to the tray on the low table, steering Jess to a chair with his hand in the small of her back.

"It's only been a year, and already you have forgotten my sister." She glared at Jess, who fiddled with the scarf. She felt slightly irreverent for being sexually aroused while Millicent persistently brought Ben's dead wife into the conversation.

His voice had lost its huskiness when he said, "Not a day goes by without me thinking about her, loving her, longing for her. At times I miss her so much, it's a physical pain. Does that sound to you as if I have forgotten her, Millicent?"

"Yet, here you are with another woman." Millicent smiled tightly at Jess. "I knew you were up to something, I felt it."

Ben uncorked the bottle of wine. "I told you, there is nothing between Jessica and me, and I resent the implication."

"That's not what I saw on the stairs a moment ago."

The smile was a thing of the past. It had been put on, anyway. Jess couldn't prevent the shudder shaking her shoulders.

"We were talking, then Jess missed a step and nearly fell. Why are you really here, Millicent?" He looked at Daemon, who was studying the huge painting of two young women above the fireplace, slowly rubbing his hair with a towel. In the picture, the girls were probably in their late teens or early twenties, and they both looked exactly like Millicent.

Ben's lips pressed into a straight line. Thunder rolled over the house. The storm was turning around, yet Jess sensed a storm was about to break inside the lounge. Millicent seemed set on confrontation.

"Where is my sister, Ben?"

Ben dragged a noisy breath into his lungs. "Roxanne is dead, Millicent. I know it must be hard for you to have lost your twin, but she's never coming back. You have to accept that."

Ah, twins. Roxanne, Ben's wife and this horrible woman had been twins. Identical too, if that painting on the wall was anything to go by. No wonder he had been so shocked when Millicent arrived. Things were starting to fall into place.

"Roxanne isn't dead, Ben. I would have known if she'd died in that car crash. She didn't. Her body was never found, was it? I can't be like you. You've given up on her and moved on."

"There wasn't anything else I could do, Millicent. Just because we never found her body doesn't mean she's still alive. I had to accept I'd never see her again, that I'd never hold her in my arms again. I had to convince myself she was never coming home. It was either that or lose my mind, and I have Amber to consider." He pressed his thumbs into his eye sockets. "And you're not helping by insisting Roxanne is still alive."

"How can I do anything else when my sister isn't dead? Why don't you accept that? Tomorrow it will be a year since she disappeared." Millicent's eyes misted over. "At exactly the time of the accident, she will come back to us."

Ben shook his head and took a long drink from his glass. "Let's start again. You and Daemon came here today specifically to...?" He looked at Millicent to complete the sentence.

"Find Roxanne and bring her home," Daemon supplied. "Millicent asked me to come with her a year after the event—"

"The event!" Ben exploded. "Good God, man, my wife died in that event." He pinched the bridge of his nose between forefinger and thumb, breathing deeply.

Again, Jess experienced that push-pull toward him, the need to put her arms around him to comfort him. These people were not helping him at all. They weren't here to heal his pain, Jess felt instinctively, they were prolonging his loss. She could help him, just as she could make a difference in his daughter's life.

"After a year, portals open, whispers of time become audible and one can see clearly what is hidden," Daemon explained. "As the year is up tomorrow, I hope to be able to see where Millicent's sister is."

Millicent chewed her lip. "And together we will guide her home." Her eyes were on her untouched glass of wine on the table where Ben had put it.

Strange that. Jess would have expected her to deliver that assurance to Ben directly.

Ben met Jess' gaze, but she wasn't sure if he was even seeing her through the haze of his pain. The green eyes were shuttered, the corners of his mouth turning down.

"Millicent," he said, "if Roxanne was alive, don't you think she would have let us know by now?"

"She did. I feel it here," Millicent cried, tapping her chest.

"I mean in a more concrete way. She might have written, or called, or...come home."

"If she was able to," Daemon said, his impossibly long hand on Ben's shoulder. "Remember, the portals are closed for her too, and we don't know what condition she finds herself under."

Ben's head whipped around. If he kept doing that, he was going to do himself an injury. These people had him in a knot. His voice was strained when he said, "What do you mean, if she was able to? Is she in danger? Is she being restrained?"

"We don't know, Ben." Daemon smiled and glanced at the empty glass in his hand. "We will only know when the portals open tomorrow."

"What's a damned portal? How will we know when they're open?"

"The easiest way to explain a portal is to compare it to a window. When a portal is closed, it is like a window with the curtains drawn—nothing can be seen through it. When they open, anyone who knows how to look can see what's on the other side."

Ben sat down abruptly and covered his face with his hands. "How dare you, Millicent? What gives you the right to open the wounds all over again?" He dragged his hand through his already messed-up hair. "Daemon, I don't know what Millicent told you and frankly, I don't care, but I'm afraid she brought you here for nothing. My wife is dead. No one could have survived that crash, and I don't see what you can do about it. Nothing can bring her back, whether your portals are open or not."

"You only see what you want to," Millicent said stiffly. "Open your mind. We won't stop until Roxy is home again."

"Millicent, allow me, okay?" Daemon said. The hand he held up looked transparent against the light. "Ben, there are several things I can do to locate Millicent's twin."

"Are you a detective?"

"No, I'm psychic." Daemon seemed surprised that Ben hadn't figured that out. It wasn't that obvious, Jess wanted to assure him. Personally, she'd just thought him weird. "To find the living, one sometimes has to commune with the dead."

"I don't want any mumbo-jumbo nonsense in my house," Ben said firmly.

Daemon showed no surprise at his attitude. "Ben, while it can't do anyone any harm, we might locate your wife. You do want your wife found, don't you?"

Oh, how cruel! How dare he put Ben's emotions through the grinder?

Ben covered his eyes with his hand but looked up when Millicent sat down next to him and folded her hands over her phone in her lap.

"Ben, being twins means that Roxanne and I are connected in a way other people are not. We feel each other's emotions, we live far more by instinct than most others do." Her voice very low, Jess had to strain to follow what she said.

"What are you going to do now the portals are about to open?" Ben asked her.

"You remember that our whole family follows an alternative religion, don't you? What I'm hoping to do is to pray in our way, here, where my sister spent most of her life. Tomorrow, my other sisters, and Amber, of course, will add their voices and hearts to my prayers. The combined effect of all her living blood relatives will bring Roxanne back to us. All you have to do is to leave us to it and give us space."

"Why don't you play along and see what happens, Ben?" Jess said.

He slowly turned his head to glare at her. For a moment, she thought he forgot who she was. Her heart went out to the man. A pulse beat in his temple, and he was grinding his teeth again, his mouth set. Those lips...

Jess checked the direction of her thoughts. How could she think of kissing at a time like this?

Ben dragged a breath deep into his lungs when he turned to Daemon. "Okay, let's assume you find Roxanne and bring her home. What form is she going to have?"

Millicent shared a look with Daemon. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"What I mean, Millicent, is simple. Will she be as she was when I saw her last, or will she be a skeleton, or scarred and burned beyond recognition, or a puff of insubstantial smoke? What form are you bringing her home in?" He glared at his sister-in-law. "Roxanne is dead, Millicent!" he bellowed. "Get that into your head. Roxanne is dead and she cannot come home, not as I knew and loved her. Can't you understand that? I just want to remember her as she was, without you tarnishing my memories of her."

Millicent's mouth opened and closed.

Daemon reached out to touch Ben, but dropped his hand before making the contact. "Ben, the wounds are still raw. Why don't you allow us to see what we can come up with, hmm?"

The corners of Millicent's mouth turned down, her cobalt eyes hardening. Jess gaped at the woman. What was that about? Didn't she want Daemon to sympathize with Ben? Or was it more a reaction to how strongly he felt about his wife, even a year after her death?

Taking his time refilling glasses, Ben breathed hard through his nose, missing Millicent's expression. Only after he'd glugged down half the contents of his glass did he say, "How do you propose to do this? What exactly does this praying you mentioned involve? I'm not having any séances and funny stuff with Amber in the house."

Millicent and Daemon shared a look. "Séance?"

"You mentioned talking to the dead."

"No, not like that," Daemon said. "You can never be sure who is going to come to the party when you use a Ouija board. If it becomes necessary to consult the dead, I need to be very specific who I talk to." His gaze rested on Millicent. "I will start with a technique that works from life force energy. For this, I need you to find me an object of Roxanne's to which she was particularly attached. It would help if it was something she wore, like jewelry. Anything she had on her person most of the time would have absorbed her life force. Metal or stone imprint personal vibrations best. Could you find me such an item?"

"Are you telling me Roxanne's possessions are going to lead you to her?" Ben raised a brow.

Jess could see he wasn't buying into any of this.

"The vibrations of Roxanne's own energies stored in the object, yes. You see, Ben, everything in the universe is connected. All souls from the beginning of time and the ones not even born yet, are thoughts in the Creator's mind, and as such, we are all one. We all have knowledge of each other, although most people have forgotten how to access that knowledge. Tapping into this universal energy using Roxanne's personal energy vibrations will be our starting point."

Ben crossed his arms. "Uh-huh. And this is going to help you find Roxanne, how? What exactly do you propose to do?"

"First, I need to ask a few questions, if I may?" Daemon sat down at one end of the couch, tucking his dress over his knees and the sleeves down his arms, like a proper Victorian miss.

Jess barely suppressed an urge to giggle. This was no laughing matter. Ben was hurting. Couldn't his sister-in-law and her cohort see that?

"Shoot," Ben said.

"Apart from the four of us, your daughter and the old woman, who else is in the house?" Daemon asked.

"There's Jan, Ethel's husband. They live in the apartment below the kitchen. They have both been here for a very long time."

"Anyone else?" Daemon asked before taking a long drink of wine. He lowered the glass nearly empty.

Ben took a deep breath. "There's no one. As a rule, it's just the four of us—the old couple, and Amber and me." He thought for a moment. "Do animals count? I have a few patients in the clinic, which is also below the house."

Daemon balanced the glass on his knee. "I'll check it out. Sometimes animals run static interference. The dogs outside, do they ever come indoors? Were they close to Roxanne?"

"No to both. Roxanne was not an animal lover, although she sometimes helped me in the clinic. The yard dogs reacted the same way to Roxanne as they do to Millicent, with a big noise from a safe distance."

"That might also be significant. Anyone else?"

"My sisters," Millicent said. "They don't live here now, but we all grew up here. They will be home tomorrow." Millicent looked at the dark man from beneath her silvery lashes, either not seeing or deliberately ignoring the way Ben's head twisted sharply to her again.

"Do they know what you're up to?"

Millicent ignored the question.

"Why do you need all this information?" Ben asked Daemon, still frowning at Millicent.

"I need to know what energy vibrations I might encounter, so I can single Roxanne's out," Daemon explained. His eyes seemed glazed. The wine, or was he looking into a different dimension already? Jess guessed the former.

"Roxanne didn't die here. In fact, the accident happened a fair distance from here."

"It doesn't matter where the event actually occurred. She lived in this house most of her life, I believe, and her energy vibrations will be embedded in its very structure." Daemon brooded into the glass in his hand. The rain tapped against the windows while the grandfather clock in the hall loudly ticked off the passing minutes. Eventually, he looked up at Ben. "Could you find me that object of Roxanne's now?"

"Sure." Ben looked at Jess, meeting her gaze.

She had the urge to follow him, but she didn't. Instead, she watched as he left the room, crossed the hall and disappeared up the stairs. It might be a good idea to hear what these two said behind his back. Something didn't ring true and if she stayed, she might pick up hints of why they were doing this to Ben.

Millicent waited for his footfalls to die down before she said, "This is all Ben's fault. He knew she was in no condition to drive her car that day. He should have stopped her. Then she wouldn't be missing now."

Daemon's head came up sharply. "Why?"

"It was the day Amber was diagnosed. Roxy took it very hard, and Ben didn't support her enough."

"Your sister's emotional state might be significant in our search, but more so the tie between her and her husband. If there was discord between them at the time, she might have disappeared deliberately."

"Are you saying she's hiding?" Jess asked.

Daemon and Millicent both glanced at her.

"No, it might have been a subconscious defense."

"Like forgetting where she is supposed to be?" Jess persisted.

"No. It's hard to explain. She might simply have gone to another place. If the love connection between them was as strong as Ben claims, it might be a portal through which to drag her home."

Millicent's lips thinned into a straight line before she forced a smile. "Don't worry about it, Jessica. It's all rather complex."

Bristling, Jess turned an equally stiff smile on the woman.

"What is the alternative religion you mentioned? Are you a witch?"

Millicent smiled and said nothing, but got up to pace around the room, pausing in the doorway to stare at the upper-floor landing before continuing her circuit. As she walked, she alternatively tapped her phone against her thigh, or rubbed the screen against her shoulder, completely focused on Ben's return.

That woman, beautiful as she was in her long, flowing dress, with all that silvery-blonde hair and bright blue eyes, was seriously weird. Not a single drop of rain had clung to her earlier, while the rest of them had been soaked to the skin. How had she managed that? In light of that, being a witch made complete sense.

It was quiet in the lounge, the only sounds the raging storm and the ticking of the clock in the hall. She didn't feel comfortable with these two strange people, and wished Ben would hurry up.

Five minutes felt like ten before Jess heard a door upstairs open and moments later, Ben appeared in her line of sight on the stairs. Millicent heard it too, spun away and all but ran into the hall to intercept him at the foot of the stairs. Jess glanced at Daemon. He sat with his elbows on his widespread knees, rolling his empty glass between his palms.

Ben's and Millicent's voices reached Jess, but she couldn't see them at the bottom of the stairs, or make out their words. What were they talking about? It was clearly something Millicent intended for his ears only.

In the silence that followed, Jess turned her head to the window to watch the play of lightning behind the drapes, until she felt eyes on her. Looking around, she saw Ben in the doorway, his hands in his pockets, staring at her with those intense green eyes. Automatically reaching for the ends of the scarf around her neck, she felt conspicuous under his scrutiny, very aware of her lack of underwear. He was the only one in a house full of strange people she was comfortable with, but with him looking at her like that, she felt decidedly underdressed.

Jess wasn't sure if she should smile or not, so she followed her instincts. She had been told she had a nice smile, and she hoped it would help Ben, even if only to relax him somewhat.

One corner of his mouth lifted in response. Then he turned to dangle something on a chain in front of Daemon. "Will this do? Roxanne wore it most days since she found it by the river."

Some sort of jewelry, then. "Sorry, Ben, where did you say she found it?" Jess asked.

He turned to her. "She told me she found it by the river, draped over a stone. She said it gave her peace."

"Wow. Did the river wash it down? It could be quite old." Jess hopped to her feet to get a better look. "Wow," she said again. "It's gorgeous."

When Ben deposited it on the table, Daemon leaned forward to stare at the pewter disk. It had a pentacle over a Celtic cross engraved on it. "A stone?" he asked.

"She was very secretive about it."

"Did you touch it?"

"Only the chain."

"Good. No one is to handle it." When Millicent knelt on the floor and leaned over it, Jess turned away to make room for the woman. "Don't touch it, Millicent," Daemon repeated. "We need to keep Roxanne's energy vibrations pure."

"I won't touch it," Millicent said. Studying the necklace, she breathed on it, a slow breath that puffed out her cheeks and sighed over her lips. They all watched her until she took her seat again.

Daemon prompted, "You can tell me about Roxanne when you're ready, Ben."

Jess settled in her chair, her attention centered on Ben. He sat on the end of the couch nearest Jess' chair, his elbows on his knees, slowly rubbing his palms together. A muscle jumped in his jaw. After a moment, he sat back and met Daemon's eyes.

"A friend introduced me to the twins. Roxanne didn't like me much at first, but I was a goner from the start. For me, it was love at first sight. It was hard work wearing her resistance down, but once she changed her mind, we were inseparable. I loved her so much. We were married four months after we met, and Amber came along three years later. We were the perfect family."

It was clearly a poignant subject for him to talk to a stranger about, for he got up to pace and pushed his hands into his pockets. His eyes were on Jess and she met them steadily. It felt as if he was speaking to her alone, as if he needed to make her personally understand.

"When Amber was diagnosed with autism, Roxanne blamed me. She made a dreadful scene, which was completely out of character for her. She was always so calm and precise, but that day she scared me. She was beside herself."

"Can you tell me about your last moments with her, before she left?" Daemon asked. "As much detail as you can remember."

Ben closed his eyes. "It is my greatest wish to have her back, for everything to be the way it was before that horrible day." When he opened them again, the green of his eyes glittered unnaturally. "Her last words were nasty and hurtful, but I'm not sure how much of it she meant, and how much was lashing out at me because she was confused and hurt herself."

"I know it's painful to remember, but it would help a great deal," Daemon prompted.

Ben breathed in through his mouth before he met Jess' calm regard. "I barely recognized her. Her face was contorted as I'd never seen it before, her hands out like this." He curled his fingers into claws. "Her teeth were bared in a snarl. I tried to hold her in the hope it would soothe her, but it seemed to have the opposite effect. Her heart was hammering so erratically, I was scared that she was about to have a seizure of some sort."

Daemon's gaze was steady on Ben's face. There wasn't a sound in the room other than the ticking of the clock in the hall and the wind sighing around the corners of the house. Jess quickly glanced at Millicent. The woman hung on Ben's words, her eyes wide, her lips slightly parted.

Jeez.

"Roxanne said I gave Amber the disease. I tried to convince her autism wasn't a disease, but a condition that could be managed, and that Amber could lead a relatively normal life despite having it. I tried to tell her that, knowing about her condition, we were better equipped to deal with our daughter and we could help her, that the medical label didn't mean we loved her less."

Jess clasped her hands between her knees. She found it hard to breathe. So much pain.

"She wouldn't, or maybe she couldn't, listen to reason. She insisted I'd given her a broken child. I'll never forgive her for that. Amber isn't broken. She is still the same little girl she was before the diagnosis. And she's mine!"

Oh, Ben.

He sat down again and rested his elbows on his knees. Jess wanted to hug him to ease his hurt, but she daren't touch him. Sighing deeply, he continued. It was as if, now that he'd started, he couldn't stop pouring out his heart.

"Roxanne was like a woman possessed. She screamed that she hated me and..." He closed his eyes, rubbing them with his fingers, his other hand dangling between his knees. "She said she didn't want to be married to me anymore. Then she said she needed to get away, to clear her head. I didn't think she was in any fit state to drive and tried to stop her. I suggested that Ethel make her one of her soothing concoctions, that she should rather have a rest. But I was not the flavor of choice that day, and she insisted that only a drive would bring her perspective back. She picked up her car keys and her cigarettes, and then she was just...gone." The silence stretched.

"I hoped she'd remember us, Amber and me, once she calmed down. I hoped she'd come home before dark, but she didn't. I didn't go upstairs but waited down here all night and the next day, but she never came home. I checked the hospitals and then reported her missing, but it was only late the following afternoon that the police called about a car wreck. I had to identify her car.

"It was the most difficult thing I have ever had to do. She'd found her death alone and far from home, while I had to carry on living. When I got home from the police station, I needed a shower, and that was when I found her wedding rings and that pendant, on the vanity in our bedroom—as if she knew she was never coming home." He drew a shuddering breath. "That hurt nearly as much as her last words had. It was so final."

The wind rattled the windows when Ben looked up at Daemon. "If there is the remotest chance of contacting Roxanne, please, tell her I'm sorry." His voice broke on the last word.

Daemon got up to rest his hand on Ben's shoulder. "We're not going to call up the dead, Ben, not until we've exhausted all other avenues. I want to assure you that we will find your wife, wherever she is."

Ben nodded, swallowing with difficulty. "When do we start?"

"Tomorrow. Tonight, I need to prepare. What time exactly did the event occur?"

Ben scrubbed his hands up and down his face. "Difficult to say. She left here at about half past three in the afternoon and it is a forty-five minute drive to the crash site. If she'd stuck to the speed limit and didn't stop anywhere, she would have crashed around quarter past four. But when a motorist found the wreckage the next morning, it was still burning fiercely. Is the time important?"

"Yes, but don't worry, it will come to me in meditation. Millicent?" When he looked at her, the corner of his mouth lifted.

She dragged herself to her feet. "Is my room made up?"

Jess got the feeling she was reluctant to leave the lounge, to leave Ben.

"It should be. Let me check. Ethel!" Ben called in the direction of the kitchen. The old woman appeared in the hall. "Is Millicent's room ready for her?"

"No. She's dead to me." She was gone.

"That does it," Millicent said venomously, rushing past Ben into the hall, ready for battle, but had to contend herself with glaring after the old woman in the direction of the kitchen. "That old baggage has turned against the Howards, and especially me, lately. You should have sent her packing a long time ago, along with that useless old man of hers. He can't even keep my sister's house in one piece." Her eyes flashed at Ben.

He frowned. "Millicent, whom I employ has nothing to do with you, and you are being utterly disloyal to the woman who practically raised you." Sighing, he swept his hand to indicate the stairs. "You know the way. Make yourselves at home."

"But Ethel said the room wasn't ready. Aren't you going to make her fix it?"

"It is ready."

"But she said no," Millicent persisted.

"Millicent, your room is ready. It always is." He sighed heavily. "What time do you expect your sisters tomorrow?"

"Sometime in the morning."

"I'll fetch our things from the car, shall I?" Daemon said. They crossed the hall together. Millicent started up the stairs as Daemon went outside, and she waited for him on the landing. Ben watched her from the lounge doorway, where Jess joined him. Millicent ignored her, her gaze, a little crease between her eyes, on Ben.

Daemon was back a few minutes later, stomping the rain off his sandals. "Good night, then," he said, making his way up the stairs, following Millicent with a backpack slung over his shoulder and a canvas hold-all in one hand.

So, Millicent and Daemon were a couple after all. Eww, there was no accounting for taste.

Jess found herself alone in the lounge with Ben. He had taken a chair across the coffee table from her. They stared at each other as the silence stretched. For want of something neutral to say, Jess blurted, "Why do your dogs go crazy when I'm about, but they merely bark at Millicent and completely ignore Daemon?" It came out as an accusation, so she softened it with a grin.

Surprisingly, Ben grinned, too—he was actually smiling at her.

Jess' heart missed a beat. Wow, what a transformation when he did. Did he realize how yummy he was when he smiled?

And he was smiling at her. She owned that smile. Pleasure seeped through her body and settled inside her underwearless jeans.

"You give them such lovely attention, more than they get from anyone else. Of course they're going to single you out. You are their newest best buddy. They don't like Millicent and beat a hasty retreat when she's around. She's kicked them often enough in the past." He poured them some more wine.

"And Daemon?" Jess accepted the glass he held out to her.

Ben did more than grin, he actually chuckled. Laughing, too? She was in serious trouble.

"For all his long hair and bare legs, Daemon is a man. The dogs are used to me and Jan. They give Ethel a wide berth because she always shoos them. She intimidates them, I think," he ended, scratching the stubble on his chin.

"Or maybe Daemon has a way of hypnotizing them?" Jess grinned back. He was nice to be with when he forgot to be grumpy. She was going to have to watch out or she could be in trouble of losing her heart to the country vet. As it was, she already wanted to jump his bones.

"Daemon is more than likely not scared of dogs. Dogs smell your fear, you know, and that's what they react to. When you come into contact with a strange dog, you should keep your teeth hidden. In other words, don't smile at them. When they see your teeth, they interpret it as a growl, which to them means aggression. You also shouldn't make sudden moves, and never turn your back on them and run." He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket. "What happened to make you so scared of animals?"

"Not animals, dogs. One day, when I was a little girl, I walked to a friend's house a few doors away. The road went past a house where an Alsatian lived. It was a beautiful dog, pure black except for a white patch under his chin. It had the strangest yellow-gold eyes. It never paid me any attention before, but on that particular day, the gates were open and the Alsatian stormed me. I screamed and ran, but it must have known I was a child, for it only nipped my bottom without breaking the skin. I had the fright of my life, though." Jess took a sip of wine. "I've hated dogs ever since, no matter how Daddy tried to change my mind. He was a dog handler in the police."

Ben chuckled again. "You did everything wrong."

Jess smiled. "Apparently so. Did you see the owls on the roof earlier?"

"Yes, I did, poor birds. They nest in the barn, but Jan destroys the nests in the hope that they'll go away. He seems to be superstitious about the owls, but they keep coming back. I have never seen so many of them together as tonight. Normally, they stick to breeding pairs."

"I don't blame Jan. Don't they predict death or something? If he's as old as Ethel, it can't be very comforting to have them around."

"Who told you that? They're just birds that hunt in the dark. I like the owls. They keep the rat colonies manageable."

"Rats? You must be joking."

"I wish I was. Don't worry about the rats. They don't bother us in the house. I periodically have to poison them in the barn and the old winery, but like the owls, they're a fixture around here." Ben brooded into his wine. Looking up, he said, "I'm sorry Millicent chose today for a visit. She's always had this attitude that what belonged to Roxanne was automatically hers too, including me. She even climbed into our bed once. Roxanne thought it hilarious, but Millicent hadn't been joking. Neither of them stopped to think how their games affected me."

"What happened?"

"I don't remember what made me suspicious, but while I was staring at the woman in our bed, my wife followed me to our room. The moment I saw her, I knew what was going on." He raked his fingers through his hair. "When Roxanne and I decided to go exclusive, Millicent promised Roxanne she'd take her place should anything ever happen to her. I never agreed to it, but at the time, it ensured our privacy, so I didn't argue too much. Now I'm sure it's about to backfire on me, because Roxanne is gone. Even though Millicent won't accept the facts, she reminded me of that promise just now, in the hall."

"Was that what you two were talking about when you came down the stairs?"

"Sort of. Being identical twins makes it doubly hard for her to accept her sister's death, I suppose."

"She should get professional help. It isn't healthy for her, and it sours her relationship with you and Amber. Family is very important to autistic children, because family provides the structure and stability they need."

"Yes, well, tell that to Millicent." Ben put his glass down and got up. "I have to do my rounds in the clinic. Make yourself at home, Jessica. Have some more wine, or go to bed if you're tired. My house is your house."

Jess put her glass next to his and pushed to her feet. "Don't worry about me, Ben. I'll go up to my room for now, and we can talk some more after you've finished your duties, if you want to." He was doing the frowning thing again, his eyes hooded, hiding his thoughts.

"Jessica, I was rude to you when you arrived. I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me."

"There's no need to apologize, Ben. I was late. You had every right to be irritated with me. Forget about it."

"It wasn't about being late. When I saw you get out of your car, my heart dropped. And then you knocked me over and you were all legs and soft, silky skin and you smelled so good... I knew I was in serious trouble. I just wanted you to get back into your car and go away." He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry I was rude. That said, you will have to excuse me." He turned and left Jess in the hall.

A glow settled over her. No wonder he was so rude. It was self-defense against a perceived threat, just like running away was now. Poor man.

Reluctantly, she started up the stairs. The house was eerily quiet. And gloomy. She didn't like to be on her own. Her imagination showed her all sorts of things lurking in the dark corners, and there were many dark corners. Rolling her eyes without moving her head, she jumped when a stair creaked under her weight, then clicked her tongue.

Stop it, you're scaring yourself!

But it was too late, she was already terrified. She dashed up the last few stairs and slammed the door behind her, leaning her forehead against it to try to get her breath back.

In an effort to distract herself, Jess snatched her laptop off the bed with only a small pause, waiting for a reaction, before she opened it on the desk to boot up. While she waited, she convinced herself that there was an owl on the windowsill right outside her room. She even thought she could hear its talons scraping the stone, and its hoots now and then.

Goosebumps raised the fine hairs on her arms. It was as if an imaginary bird was guarding her, because she knew an owl couldn't perch on the flat windowsill. Still...she heard things. But she was too scared to peek out the window to confirm it either way.

Staring at the bed, she wondered if it would complain again if she sat down. Sooner or later, she was going to have to get into it, if she was to have any sleep at all tonight. So what if it objected? It couldn't do any more than that, could it?

Defiantly, with an I'm human and you're only a stick of furniture swagger, she picked up the open laptop and carried it to the bed. Stepping up onto the mattress, she stood in the middle of the bed, waiting for it to mutter its objection.

Nothing happened.

She sat down and crossed her legs, still waiting, for both the bed to say something and for the laptop to boot up. Neither happened.

The laptop was battling to connect to the net. Signal quality had to be very poor here. When her gaze fell on the pile of clothes to be hung out, she put the laptop down and got off the bed again.

Several minutes later, her clothes and underwear were draped from every conceivable place all over the room. She added a couple of logs to the fire to speed up the drying process. Her pajamas were just slightly damp, so she spread them over the edge of the bed closest to the fireplace.

It was nine-thirty, far too early for bed. The wind rattled the windows, a draft stirring the drapes as rain tapped against the glass. The lights had dipped a couple of times and she didn't relish the idea of sitting alone in a strange room in the dark, with an imaginary owl she could still hear outside, should the electricity go out completely again. The fire added a soft glow to the room, but if the lights failed... And it didn't look as if her laptop was going to manage the connection, anyway.

She decided to go find Ben. Maybe Ethel would know where he was. She could ask her for a candle, too, for just in case.

Voices came from the kitchen as she approached the door, and she paused to listen. The conversation seemed to consist of words instead of sentences, spoken in undertones, so she couldn't make out what was being said. Easing the door open a crack, she took a peek.

Ethel was sitting at the kitchen table with an old man, a cozy fire burning in the grate. That must be her husband. He was as old, if not older, than Ethel, but when the old lady looked at him, her eyes glowed with love, a gentle smile lifting the corners of her ancient mouth. How many years have they been together? And they still loved each other.

There is hope for the human race, after all.

When Ethel noticed her at the door, there was nothing for Jess to do but to push it open wider. "There she is," Ethel declared. "I told you she came." She nudged the man's arm, beaming a bright, white smile at Jess.

"That's because you made her come," he huffed as he patted Ethel's hand, apparently unimpressed.

"I didn't mean to disturb you. I just wanted to ask if you knew where Ben was. Has he finished in the clinic yet?"

"Come and sit down, girl." Ethel pushed the chair between her and the old man away from the table. "We need to talk. This is my husband, Jan."

Jess approached cautiously, and when she perched on the edge of the chair, Jan folded the newspaper he'd been reading and pushed away from the table. "I'll leave you two to it then, shall I? Time for my rounds, anyway. Nice to finally meet you, miss." The door closed with a muted thud behind him.

"What did he mean, you made me come?" Jess asked, her eyes on the back door. Shivers that had nothing to do with the thunder and lightning ran down her spine.

"I told you, I called you here. Never mind that now, dear. I want to talk to you about—"

"Ethel, can't it wait until the morning? I really need to speak to Ben." Jess felt uneasy, as if the kitchen was smothering her. She had to find Ben. He seemed to be above the oddness in his house.

"No, it can't wait. You see, tomorrow the others will be here, and you have to understand your position before then." The watery blue eyes held Jess' gaze.

"Ethel, I don't have a position here. I'm here because the dogs messed with my car and because Millicent turned up. I'll be gone in the morning."

"No, you won't. Your place is with Mr. Ben and the little one. You have to remember that. Dark days are coming, but as long as you believe your place is with Ben, everything will work out just as it was meant to." A bent finger appeared under Jess' nose. "No matter what happens, no matter who says what, remember, nothing is what it seems."

Jess shot to her feet, goosebumps covering her body. "Ethel, you're scaring me."

"There's nothing to be scared of, dear, as long as you remember Ben needs you."

Jess made for the door. "Where is he?" She felt ridiculously jittery.

"In the study." A white smile beamed her out the kitchen. Jess didn't hang around for directions, but dashed across the hall, suppressing the urge to glance over her shoulder—a childhood relic of long fingers reaching for her from dark corners. The candle she'd meant to ask for was completely forgotten.

There was a door at the far end of the hall near the foot of the stairs. She flung it open, dashed inside and slammed it shut before she looked about. It might have been a broom cupboard for all she knew, but it wasn't, because books lined the walls of a sizable room, floor to ceiling. The study, then. Jess exhaled the breath she'd been holding as relief washed over her.

Ben glanced up from his laptop at the sound of the door.

"You look as if you've seen a ghost."

"I might have," she said, clutching at her heaving chest. "Is Ethel for real?"

He grimaced. "Oh, Ethel, yes, she's fond of creeps. What's she done now?" He closed the laptop and linked his hands on top, giving her his undivided attention.

He was minus his sweatshirt again, and it now hung over the back of his chair. What did the man have against wearing clothes? Didn't he feel the chill in the air? Nice chest, though, well-defined muscles rippling under smooth, glowing skin, with only a sprinkling of hair she'd missed when she'd first arrived. She archived the image for a thorough inspection later.

Pushing away from the door, she was beginning to feel like an idiot. "Nothing, I suppose. I'm being silly." Someone walked over her future grave, and she quickly sat down in the nearest chair facing the desk to hide the shiver. The sky rumbled and flashed outside, drawing her eyes to the window, not at all convinced he hadn't noticed her reaction. "Are you on the net?" she asked. "My laptop wouldn't boot up."

"The signal is rather poor, being surrounded by mountains as we are. I'll give you my Wi-Fi password to try."

A couple of deep breaths restored her equilibrium. "Ben, you said just now that the promise Millicent made is about to backfire on you. Did you mean Roxanne's family would force you to marry her?"

"I'm not sure if the other sisters know about Millicent's pact, but she will insist, all the while bemoaning her reluctance. I have no idea where she got the idea from that she has to make decisions for me. The Howard family are strange people."

Jess chewed her lip, deep in thought. Was that why Ethel insisted she belonged here—to foil the Howard sisters' plans for Ben? She needed to clear her throat before she could say, "Please tell me about Roxanne."

Ben slapped his palm to his forehead. "Not you too, Jessica. Are you starting an investigation of your own? Funny, I didn't see any psychic qualifications in your résumé." He got up from behind the desk to stand in front of the window, his hands in his pockets, his back stiff. If he knew how squeezable that made his butt look, he wouldn't turn his back on her when his hands were in his pockets.

His next words burst her bubble. "As you don't have the job here, I fail to see what Amber's mother, or any of this, has to do with you." He was back to his rude self. It was like running head first into a brick wall.

"I'm not fishing for information, Ben. The person you eventually employ might find my input helpful. For instance, the place setting at dinner is for Roxanne, isn't it? Isn't that a bit morbid?"

"I don't see how the past can affect our present."

"Only that it belongs in the past and should be treated that way. What if Daemon manages to find Roxanne?"

Another long silence followed before Ben headed for the door. With the doorknob in his hand, he turned back to face her. "Just as there are certain rooms in this house that aren't to be disturbed, there are things we don't talk about around here. Roxanne is one of them, tonight being the exception." He raked his fingers through his hair before he snatched the door open.

"Ben," Jess said. When he looked back at her, a muscle jumped in his jaw. "It will be healthier for Amber to talk openly about her mother, rather than having a ghost at the dinner table. You're confusing the child. Amber's insistence earlier that her mother was here is proof of that." She gnawed her lip for a moment. "Tell me, was Roxanne very much like her twin?" She got up to stand in front of him, ready to follow him if he tried to leave.

"They looked exactly the same, but there were subtle personality differences." Ben lowered his head and, to her, it looked as if he was staring at her through his sandy brows. His face was very close to hers, their eyes mere inches apart.

All moisture disappeared from her mouth. She sucked a surprised breath in when her arms snaked around his neck. It wasn't her doing this, nor was it her intention to press her mouth to his. She gasped against his lips when his arms circled her body and he crushed her to him, his mouth slanting across hers.

Her eyes drifted shut, the only sensation registering the way his tongue stroked the tender inside of her bottom lip. Her mouth opened, and his tongue found hers, twisting and tantalizing. Delicious heat filled her body and settled where her panties should have been. Her breasts, crushed against his chest, ached for his touch.

The kiss lasted only a few seconds.

Eye opening was required when he put her away from him, but it was hard. As was standing alone. But Ben pushed both hands into his hair, turning slightly away from her.

"Jessica, have mercy. It's just not possible for us..." He groaned as if he was in pain. "You can't stay here. I don't want to be unfaithful to my wife..."

Jess watched his lips forming the words as she sucked on her bottom lip where his tongue had teased it. She could still taste him there. Her breasts felt heavy and tight, and her breath raspy and insufficient. He was not unaffected, either; she'd felt the hard ridge of his reaction pressing against her belly.

"I thought your wife is dead," she whispered, because that was all she could manage.

"You might have noticed there are some people around here who believe otherwise. Just in case they're right and Roxanne comes back to me..."

Jess sighed from the bottom of her soul when Ben stomped into the hall, leaving the sentence hanging between them. She came back down to earth with a bang.

Oh crap.

What had she done?

She followed him, her face on fire. She couldn't let him go now, not before she explained that it hadn't been her doing anything, or that she had a mad moment. What had come over her? She had to make him understand she never threw herself at men. But after that display, she could only imagine what he thought of her. Small wonder he insisted on sending her away.

It had been as if something had propelled her into his arms.

Being naked inside her jeans and tee didn't help, either.

Still, it had nothing to do with it being Friday the thirteenth.

Covering her face with her hands, she dragged a deep breath into her lungs. She had to apologize, or literally kiss any and all remaining chances of getting this job, goodbye. "Ben, I-I don't know what to say. I'm so ashamed. I never behave l-like that. I'm a professional woman and that was the most unprofessional thing I have ever done. I am so, so sorry. It was as if someone or something m-made me do it."

The piercing green eyes glared at her, his face turned to stone. Eventually, he seemed to relent enough to squeeze her shoulder. The heat from his fingers washed through her body. She wanted more, much more of his touch, and she knew he did, too. She'd felt the evidence—he couldn't deny it.

Ben's voice didn't sound like his normal grumpy one, but rather husky with need when he said, "We both seem to have caught the same anomaly for behaving out of character today." He was holding himself firmly in check, a cord standing out in his neck with the effort.

But for Jess it wasn't over yet. Horrified, she had to listen to her own strained voice begging him for more. "Ben, you must be starved for love after a year without your wife. You shouldn't be alone for the rest of your life, and Millicent can't force you to marry her."

Mortified, she clasped her hand across her mouth to stem the flow of words she never intended saying. Tears filled her eyes and threatened to overflow. She had to bite down hard on her lip to stop from blurting that he could have her for the rest of his life, instead.

It was no business of hers what Ben did with the rest of his life. She wasn't part of the package, even if she wanted to be.

He closed the gap between them, but firmly kept his fists shoved into his pockets. The peaks of her nipples nearly brushed his chest, his mouth mere moments above her lips.

"Throwing yourself at me isn't going to make me change my mind about the job." His voice was a husky vibration echoing through her.

Jess swallowed hard, concentrating on his Adam's apple. "I didn't plan any of this, you have to believe me," was what she meant to say, but instead she heard herself muttering, "We're not talking real love here. You know you want me as much as I know you do. You kissed me earlier, remember, in the rain. Just shut up and kiss me again." Mortified, Jess slapped both hands to her mouth, imploring him with her eyes.

"No, I'm not going to do that. I already apologized for earlier. I know I shouldn't have done that. Thank you for your concern, but, although I have been alone for a long time, common sense hasn't entirely left me, yet." He must have seen the stricken look on her face, for his voice was almost gentle when he continued. "I know it isn't a case of you feeding on my weakness to get what you want. It is some sort of hysteria we both seem to have fallen victim to since the moment of your memorable arrival at Weltevreden." He started to turn away. "I daren't kiss you again. I'm afraid I'm not strong enough to stop. As you say, I'll want more. It's up to you to fight this madness, for both of us. I'll try my best to do the same. It's the only way we'll be able to look ourselves in the eye in the mirror in the morning without cringing. Deal?"

"I am so ashamed," Jess said, her eyes on the floor until she felt his hand on her hair. What made him think she was strong enough to resist for both of them? She couldn't even do it for herself.

Already she wanted more.

When she met his eyes, he smiled. "Don't be too hard on yourself. You're very kissable." He cleared his throat, rolling his eyes up. "And I shouldn't have said that, either," he muttered before looking at her again. "Jessica, we both seem to be afflicted by this, whatever this is. Let's try to get through the weekend with our dignity intact—"

The rumbling, grinding sound from the ceiling high above their heads was nearly lost in the noise of the storm. He shoved her shoulder and she stumbled back into the study moments before the heavy chandelier crashed to the floor between them.

Teardrop crystals shot all over the floor in the hall, followed instantly by the heavy iron filigree smashing into the wooden floor with a deafening thud. Ben and Jess stared at the mayhem around them until the sound died away. Their eyes met for a second before they both glanced up at the empty space high above them.

Had that sound not alerted Ben, the chandelier would have landed on Jess' head. It would definitely have killed her.

"There, are you satisfied now? Just bite your tongue and sit on your hands, woman. Nothing is going to happen between us," Ben snarled, clutching his arm as he spun on his heel and made for the kitchen. "Ethel!" he bellowed. Blood seeped through his fingers and dripped onto the floor.

"You're hurt!" Jess exclaimed. The chandelier must have grazed his arm on its way down. Jess took a few steps after him. "You're bleeding," she said at the same time as she saw Millicent at the top of the stairs.

The tiny hairs in Jess' neck prickled. Had Millicent been there long enough to witness her shameful behavior? Her face was on fire again.

Millicent's eyes glittered in the half light. "What happened here? Ben, really, you should do something about my sister's house before it collapses around your ears." Her blue eyes settled on Jess, the corners of her mouth twitching. Her hands were folded together on top of the railing over her phone. "I could have told you Rox wouldn't like you having another woman in her house."

Ethel pushed the kitchen door open and stopped when she saw the mess. Her eyes traveled to the three people in the hall, settling on Millicent. "How would you know what Roxanne would have liked or not?" she said sharply.

Millicent's smile evaporated. Without another word, Ethel turned away, tutting following her back into the kitchen.

"Go to bed, Millicent," Ben barked. "This doesn't concern you."

"It most certainly does. You're family," she said with feeling. Her smile returned. "We should see to that." She pointed at the blood dripping onto the floor by Ben's feet.

"Ethel will patch me up, thank you. Good night." He followed Ethel into the kitchen.

Millicent stared after him, the expression in her eyes unreadable. Not a muscle in her body moved. That she was astonishingly beautiful, Jess couldn't argue away. No wonder Ben was so fixated on his lost love, if she looked anything like that.

Yet, there was something, an undercurrent, when Millicent was near, as if she was up to more than she admitted to.

Only when the door stopped undulating did Millicent turn to Jess. She lifted her chin and stared back. Here by invitation, she would not be intimidated by a person Ben clearly didn't want here.

Those blue eyes were disconcerting, though. They seemed to see everything Jess didn't want her, or anyone else for that matter, to know. Her feelings were private. All she could do to avoid the other woman's scrutiny, was to straighten her back, turn on her heel, and follow Ben into the kitchen.

Something about the woman didn't ring true. The question was what Millicent wanted from Ben. She was here in her dead sister's house with her dead sister's husband, after all, and it was clear she hadn't expected, nor wanted, another visitor present. The woman was deliberately sending out mixed signals.

As far as Jess was concerned, Millicent was a pain in the duff and she was trying to complicate things unnecessarily.

In the kitchen, she found Ben sitting at the table, with Ethel dabbing at the cut that ran the length of his upper arm. The bowl of water at his elbow was already stained red with blood. That was a nasty wound, and the chandelier had only grazed him. It could have been so much worse.

Jess shuddered as she slipped into a chair where she'd be out of the way. "How bad is it?" she asked, trying not to look at his arm.

He glanced at her. "It needs stitching. Jan went down to the clinic to fetch a suture pack."

"You're going to use animal medicine on yourself?"

Their eyes met. They forgot about the old woman hovering, watching them carefully, the cloth in her hand dripping bloody water onto the floor.

Ben ran his tongue over his dry lips. "It's sterile, the same as a hospital would use," he said huskily.

The way his lips moved around the words fascinated Jess. The tip of her tongue slipped along her upper lip, drawing his eyes.

Just then, the back door opened and Jan blew into the house, breaking the spell. When he placed two cellophane-wrapped packages on the table, Ben got up to scrub his hands at the sink. The cut started bleeding profusely again. Ethel dabbed at it while he pulled a latex glove onto his right hand.

Jess sucked her breath in when she realized what he meant to do. "You're not going to stitch yourself up, are you?"

He spread the tools on the table, lifted the needle with forceps and held it out to her. "Yes, unless you feel up to it?" Blood rushed from Jess' head. "No?" He grinned.

"You're teasing me, right?" she asked in a tiny voice.

Glancing between them, Ethel said, "Go to bed before you faint, honey. One patient at a time is more than enough for me to deal with." She poured a glass three quarters full of whiskey and put it on the table. Ben sat down again, his eyes still glittering at Jess when he brought the glass to his lips and gulped most of the contents down. "Go on, girl, I'll help Ben," Ethel said kindly.

Bringing the needle to the ragged edge of the wound, he shot a grin at Jess. She fled—she didn't have the stomach for this. She'd much rather put up with the storm, and the possibility of another blackout in her room, than watch Ben stitch up his own arm.

There she only had a creaky bed that sounded as if it was talking, and the phantom owl on guard outside her window to put up with. The owls had her sympathy anyway, now that she knew how Jan treated them.

It felt like several hours had passed when she ventured from her room again. A floorboard creaking under her made her pause on the landing. The house was very quiet. Thunder rumbled farther away, but rain still pattered softly against the landing window.

Her skin crawled. She should go back to her room, but she was thirsty and there wasn't a glass in the bathroom. At least, that was what she told herself. If she was honest, she would have admitted she was looking for Ben, drawn to him like she had no will of her own.

The window rattled as if someone was trying to get in. Oh, stop this nonsense. Old houses creaked when the temperature dropped, settling themselves for the night, Jess thought, trying to convince herself there weren't any ghosts in the dark waiting to pounce on her.

You've been in the city too long, my girl. Her concrete and glass apartment never made strange sounds. Continuing down the stairs, she clutched the railing with both hands as if her life depended on it. It was so dark down there, she couldn't see her fingers in front of her face. Her breath sounded overly loud, the little hairs on her arms erect.

Lights would be good here. This was a creepy house to be alone in the dark in.

She found the switch. With old houses, things often weren't where they were expected to be. This one, thankfully, was right there at the bottom of the stairs, where it belonged. The switch was stiff and before she could push the lever down, a hand closed around her wrist.

Jess screamed as she jerked away, and with that the single light against the wall flashed on, casting a bright pool around the foot of the stairs.

An elderly man stood there at the bottom of the stairs, no more than a meter in front of her. She swallowed hard, gripping the balustrade, and had to clap her hand across her mouth to contain another scream.

"Don't take on, dearie. It's only me. What are you doing wandering around in the dark?"

"I needed a d-drink of water. Who are you?"

"I'm Jan, remember? We met earlier in the kitchen. We live here, Ethel and I. I'm the factotum, been here longer than Mr. Ben. Know every nook and cranny of this old gal. I check her at night."

Recognizing him, she released her breath, hoping he wouldn't notice she'd been holding it. He looked really creepy in the muted light. And, as if that wasn't enough, a strange object dangled from the hand he gesticulated with.

"What's that?" Jess asked, backing up a step.

"This?" Jan asked, bringing the thing up to his eyes as if he'd never seen it before. It looked like a dreamcatcher, with mostly pink feathers of all shapes and sizes, pink beads and tiny silver bells tinkling from it. "This is for protection."

"Protection from what?"

He grinned, showing a mouthful of discolored teeth, yet Jess could tell he must have been an attractive man when he was younger. "From things that go bump in the night."

She turned and fled back up the stairs. The only thing that goes bump in the night, she thought irritably, is you, you silly man. Never mind the glass—she'd cup her hand under the tap.

As she neared the top of the stairs, she deliberately slowed her pace and glanced back down into the hall. Jan was still standing where she'd left him in the pool of light at the bottom of the stairs. Her sweeping gaze caught a shadow on the far side of the hall, slightly darker and more solid. Squinting at it, she sucked her breath in when the shadow moved a step closer.

She fled. She didn't want to know if it was her imagination playing her up or not. Jan was welcome to discover what that shadow was all about. After all, he was the one with the protection in his hands.

Daemon watched the redhead with the elderly man. The old man knew things and the girl was neutral, yet he would do well to keep a close eye on her. Although he sensed a tug of war with her at the center, he wouldn't focus on that yet. This was a seriously dysfunctional household, the best he'd seen in a long while. From the foundations of the house and up, and everyone in it, it had issues, especially Millicent.

He'd felt a presence in the ramshackle house the moment he'd entered it. It still eluded him, but it seemed strongest when Ethel, her husband or Millicent were about.

When the redhead disappeared at the top of the stairs, Daemon stepped back into the shadows, and not a moment too soon, for the old man turned and made for the kitchen. As he passed Daemon, he chuckled and said, "Good night, sir."

Daemon remained in the shadows until he heard the back door's lock engage before he entered the deserted kitchen. The atmosphere was thick in there—it was the heart of the house. Until he figured out what had happened there in the past, finding Roxanne would be difficult.

He took a seat at the table with his back against the wall and crossed his legs, smoothing the black velvet robe he'd changed into over his knees. He folded his hands in his lap. In his palm, was the pendant Ben had produced earlier.

His preparations would start with the opening of his chakras. Through these energy centers, he'd be able to communicate with the spirit world and ask for guidance.

Daemon breathed in deeply through his mouth. He needed to clear his mind of all thought, to hear Roxanne speak, should she choose to. Visualizing the closed red flower of the root chakra, it slowly opened until he could see the white light spinning in its center.

He did the same with the orange flower of the sacral chakra, one by one opening each energy center until he was ready to receive the light body of a pure white owl. He became the bird, from the egg, brown speckled, as cracks appeared across the smooth surface and parts of the shell fell away, until he emerged as an owlet.

The little one spread its tiny wings and leapt from the nest. It circled, soaring into the air, until it landed in the nest again, fully grown. Concentrating on each feather, he saw the wind ruffling them, feeling the tiny movements in his own body. As the bird turned its head, Daemon could see all, in every direction. He was one with the owl, he was the owl. As such, he would be able to see behind the masks people wore to hide their true selves. He needed this awareness to discover what had happened to Millicent's twin.

The owl flew off again, silent and swift, drifting on air currents over the green mountains. Green—the color of the heart center. The bird circled back to Daemon, swooping at something unseen.

That was when he saw them, right here in the kitchen. They were girls still, identical in every way, dressed in their school uniforms. Their hair was tied back from their faces, their heads close together as they argued in whispered tones.

One of the girls shook her head violently while the other spoke, gripping her wrist. Shaking her head again, the first girl tried to pry the fingers loose.

"Get used to it," the other sneered. "Nothing is truly yours. Anything you have, I will take from you."

"No, you won't. And if you try, I'll do the same to you," the other said urgently through her teeth. She managed to get the hand off her wrist. "Stop trying to be me. I'm me."

"You will lose, every time, because you're scared. You'll never have my powers. You will never be able to do what I can do."

"You don't have any powers. You only pretend to be what you're not."

Daemon sucked in his breath at the animosity between the girls. As if they'd heard, two blonde heads turned to him as if they could see him. For a moment, they stared at him, then one smiled, the other snarled, and they were gone.

The white owl swooped into his view again. Daemon instantly noted the difference, that he wasn't the bird anymore, but merely observing its flight. He understood. It had something to show him.

The white bird was clearly visible against the dark background when it swooped high. Early sunlight caught its wings. Dawn. As soon as Daemon noted the time, it swooped into a valley, where the night was still deep.

As he watched, something plummeted into the valley, the silence disturbed by a loud metallic screech. Trees snapped in its path as something broke through the forest on the slopes to the rock bed below. The turbulence caused by the impact ruffled the owl's feathers. It banked sharply, lest it got caught in the mushroom of fire shooting meters high into the air.

Daemon's heart pounded. He had to close the chakras quickly, before the intense negativity in Ben's kitchen and in the vision incapacitated him. Starting at the crown chakra, he slowed the spinning light and closed the flower petals.

He rushed through the rest, following the opening sequence in reverse, closing the third eye, the throat, the heart, solar plexus, sacral, and finally the root chakras. When the light body of the owl swooped off his shoulder into a shaft of white light, he breathed in through his mouth to the count of ten and exhaled through his nose for ten counts.

His eyes closed, he allowed the silent house to cocoon him, feeling the wisdom of the vision of the sacred bird in his core as he summarized what he had learned.

He'd picked up two things, the first being that Roxanne's crash had happened at dawn in a remote mountainous region and not late in the afternoon, as Ben believed.

The second thing was that Millicent was lying, that there was no sisterly love between the twins. There was a different reason for her wish to locate her lost sister. He was going to have to watch her carefully and meditate on her, and soon.

When he opened his eyes, he was surprised to find the object of his speculation standing in the kitchen, one hand resting on the back of a chair, calmly watching him. How long had she been there?

Now that she had his attention, she spoke. He could see her lips move, but couldn't hear her words. Then he had to clap his hands over his ears when he was assaulted by her screem.

"Go away! I will do this my own way!"

Jess opened her door. She hadn't changed into her pajamas yet, as they were still a little damp, but had moved them closer to the fire to speed up the drying.

It had taken a fair amount of self-talk before she was brave enough to leave the room to find Ben. They could talk about anything, as long as she didn't have to be alone in his bewildering house. He seemed to be the only normal person here, apart from herself and Amber, of course.

She grimaced when she remembered her bizarre behavior in the study just before the chandelier fell, still not knowing what to make of it. Maybe she wasn't as grounded as she'd thought, after all.

Where would Ben be after his DIY surgery? Most probably in bed, but which was his bedroom and which Millicent's? How embarrassing would it be if she were to barge into the wrong room?

The nanny's room and Amber's were on the right of the upper hall, so it would be logical that Ben's would be the next one after Amber's. The guest rooms, and Millicent's, had to be on the left-hand side, then. She wouldn't swear by it, but it seemed logical. To her, anyway.

The floorboards creaked under her, sounding overly loud in the still of the night. She pressed her ear to Amber's door. Hearing no sound from within, she continued to the next, the one she presumed to be Ben's, and paused to listen. Thunder rumbled in the distance, but there was no movement behind any of the closed doors, or from downstairs. The house slept.

If this was Ben's room, he had to be dead to the world. After the huge glass of whiskey he'd gulped down, who could blame him? Sleep would be the best thing for him after his injury.

Turning the doorknob, the door swung soundlessly inward. It was pitch black inside, the only hint of light spilling in from the slightly less dark passage behind her, and sporadic lightning curling around the edges of the drapes.

What she planned to do when she found Ben, she didn't know. She'd make it up as she went. Even if she sat at the foot of his bed and watched him sleep until the sun came up, it would be better than being alone in this creepy house. And if that gave him the impression she wanted him for real, well, he wouldn't be far wrong, would he? She had the strongest urge to be close to him.

Without risking turning the lights on and waking him, she crept forward. Lightning lit her way and when the bright light faded, she relied on her hands stuck out in front of her. A tentative inspection told her the bed was empty. Quickly retracing her steps to the door, she flicked the switch and soft light flooded the room.

From the door she surveyed the lovely, feminine room, unable to picture Ben in the midst of all the frills and fluff. There was a silver hairbrush and an elaborately carved wooden jewelry box on the dresser by the door, a huge mirror mounted to the wall above it. Jess ran her finger along the surface of the dresser. There wasn't a speck of dust on it.

Leaning in, she inspected the silver-framed photo of four blond girls sitting in a patch of long grass so that only their heads were visible. They had been arranged from the biggest to the smallest, although the two in the middle were exactly the same height. The twins, Millicent and Roxanne. Ben hadn't exaggerated, she thought. They looked exactly the same.

As Jess straightened, she caught sight of herself in the mirror and pulled a face. Without makeup, she was pale, although the skin-tight jeans and stretchy blue top gave a good indication of her shape.

She gasped when another reflection appeared in the mirror next to her own. Someone was standing right behind her, someone with white-blonde hair and the face of an angel.

Millicent!

She'd made a mistake in her calculations. This had to be Millicent's room, after all. It was going to be difficult to explain what she was doing in here. Swinging around, the words of apology froze on her tongue.

There was no one there.

Goosebumps covered her entire body. Someone had been in the room with her, she'd seen the reflection in the mirror. If it had been Millicent, where was she now? No one could move that fast without making a sound, she was sure of it.

When she turned back to the mirror, the image of the blonde woman was still there, smiling sadly at her. Jess' blood ran cold. She would have dashed from the room if she could, but her legs refused to obey.

The air rippled around her and the room blurred into one she had never seen before.

She was in love!

How could she not be?

After all this time, she had to love him, yet, how had she not known before today? But now that she knew, she couldn't wait to see him.

If he felt the same—and with the wisdom of hindsight, she knew he did—why hadn't he said anything before now? Or had he, with his little secret smiles and light touches, and she'd been too blind to see?

A frown pulled her blonde brows together over the bridge of her delicate nose. It felt as if there was something she should remember, but the impression lingered in the back of her mind, refusing to take definite shape, no matter how hard she concentrated.

What?

Instinctively she knew it was crucially important.

But what was it?

Daisy looked up from her perusal of the scrubbed tabletop when Marigold blew into the kitchen, her voluminous white skirts preceding her. She smiled across the room. Daisy caught her lip between her teeth as she shook her long, white-blonde tresses back over her shoulders.

"What is it, Daisy? Why the frown?" Marigold asked.

Daisy got up from the table to help Marigold close the rough wooden door. It wasn't an easy task. The wind was very strong, and it whistled through the shrinking crack before the women between them managed to get the door closed.

Rain drummed against it from the outside.

"So?" Marigold asked again as she shrugged out of her maroon cape. She shook it vigorously before hanging it on the nail behind the door.

"I wasn't frowning, but I suppose the weather is making me feel morose."

"It's only a bit of unseasonal rain." Marigold unpinned her white cap and pushed her shoes off her feet with her toes. "Ah, heavenly," she breathed, wriggling her stockinged toes on the bare concrete floor. "Look what I found in town today. Isn't she pretty?"

Daisy took the box Marigold held out to her as she sat at the table again. Carefully pushing the tissue paper aside, she lifted a doll from the box, forgetting about Marigold for a moment as she inspected the toy.

The doll was exquisite, the delicate features smoothly carved and painted, a perfect replica of a real baby. Long, curly yellow hair framed the exquisite little face. Daisy checked the fingers and toes, and even lifted the floral dress to check out the padded body beneath.

Realizing what she was doing, she sighed as she smoothed the dress down. She'd been checking the doll like a mother would inspect her newborn child. She looked up at Marigold as she cradled the doll in the crook of her arm. Marigold had that same look in her eyes, as if she expected some sort of reaction from her.

"A strange doll, but yes, she's very beautiful," Daisy said.

"What's strange about it? I'm sure you had one just like her when you were a little girl. I thought it looked a bit like you. I couldn't resist buying it."

"I don't remember having a wooden doll, but I hope I did." Daisy smiled as she put the doll back into the box.

"I thought it would be nice to give it to the little one when you see her next."

"Yes, I'm sure she'll like it. I might go see her tomorrow. Thank you, Marigold, it was very thoughtful of you to get it for me." She reached for the newspaper Marigold had picked up as usual on her way home after work.

Grinning, Daisy said, "I'd better take a quick look before that brother of yours comes in and hogs it for the rest of the night. Where is he, anyway?" She looked at the date at the top of the page before she skimmed the headlines, flipping through it rapidly. "He's late, isn't he?"

She felt Marigold's anxious eyes on her. What was it with her lately? Had she guessed Daisy's feelings before she herself had figured it out?

"He said he needed to speak to that friend of his at the university, and dragged himself all the way into Cape Town. I don't know what could be so important, but you know Jamin when he gets something into his head. Do you feel like helping me with dinner? A tomato stew will do nicely on a night like this."

"Hmm, with lots of bread to mop up the gravy. I baked a couple of loaves today. And of course I'll help. I love to cook. You know you don't need to ask." Daisy smiled, making an effort to lift her mood, for Marigold's sake. She didn't want to worry her friend when there was absolutely nothing to worry about. And she would worry if she knew of Daisy's discovery.

"I'll just change out of my uniform, okay?" Marigold picked up her shoes and cap, and headed for her bedroom.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Daisy jumped to her feet, dashed to the window on the far side of the kitchen and lit a cigarette before she flung the window wide. Dragging soothing smoke deep into her lungs, she leaned out the window as far as she could.

Marigold had a sharp nose.

And she came back too soon.

Daisy tossed the half-smoked cigarette into the garden and flapped her hands in the air before she closed the window. Guilt curved her lips into a smile as she went to the sink to splash water from the bucket over her hands.

"Oh, Daisy, I told you before—nice girls don't smoke."

"Sorry, old habits die hard." Daisy collected the cutting board and a sharp knife, and settled herself at the table again. She quickly peeled and chopped the tomatoes Marigold handed her.

A moment later, a blast of cold, wet wind blew Jamin into the house. Daisy's breath caught in her throat when his gaze met hers across the room. She could drown in those pools of hot molten honey, the corner of his mouth lifting in a secret smile just for her.

And there she had her answer—he did feel the same way she did. His light mocha skin was wet from the weather, and instinct prompted her to run for a towel to dry the wetness from his face herself, but she daren't, not with Marigold in the kitchen with them.

Marigold cluttered around with the pot she'd been browning the meat and onions in. Oblivious, Daisy didn't notice her taking the cutting board to add the tomatoes to the pot and putting other vegetables on the table for her to chop. The sight of Jamin made her heart flutter, and turned her brain to mush.

She should long ago have recognized this intense reaction every time Jamin came home for what it was. But now she did, and she wanted more from him than his protection.

Forgetting the carrot in one hand, the knife in the other, a flush heated her cheeks as she smiled a shy welcome at the big man.

It was Marigold's slowly exhaled breath that brought the kitchen back into focus. Putting the knife and carrot side by side on the board, Daisy waited for the pounding of her heart to subside.

Jamin shrugged out of his jacket and readjusted his suspenders over his shoulders, the muscles bunching under the flannel shirt covering his arms and chest. Daisy couldn't take her eyes off him, her mouth was dry. He was the most gorgeous man.

"Damn, it's nasty out there," he complained. "I won't be surprised if we're in for a spot of late snow." Stomping his boots on the doormat, he rubbed his palms together. "How are my favorite girls this evening? What are you cooking, sis? It smells lovely. This is weather for a hearty stew to stick to a man's ribs." Even when he spoke to his sister, he devoured Daisy with his eyes.

"If stew is what you desire, stew is what you shall receive, my brother," Marigold declared. Daisy glanced at her to gauge her mood. Did Marigold notice the heat in the room? The corners of her mouth were pinched, so she must have. Instinctively, Daisy knew Marigold wouldn't be happy if anything was to develop between her and Jamin.

"Great, stew and dumplings. Should I make a fire, do you think? Are you girls cold?"

"Yes, a fire will be nice," Marigold said. "Lettie will be half frozen when she gets here. You should marry her and be done, Jamin. It would save a lot of to-ing and fro-ing if she lived under our roof. She's here most of the time, anyway."

Marigold knew! And she was trying to neutralize the situation by reminding Jamin of Lettie's existence. It was like a bucket of icy water in Daisy's face.

"I won't get married for convenience, Marigold. The right girl, at the right time, for the right reasons," Jamin said. This time he kept his eyes on his sister's.

Daisy remembered the carrot and the knife, staring hard at them. What if Marigold got her wish and Jamin actually married Lettie? How could she bear that?

Adding liquid to the pot, Marigold covered it with the lid and moved it to the side of the stove to simmer before she turned her full attention to Jamin. "Lettie won't wait for you forever, you know, brother."

"Give over, Marigold," Jamin said. "I never asked her to wait for me. I'll decide when and whom to marry."

"You know she's expecting you to propose," Marigold persisted.

"More fool her, then. I never gave her reason to think that. Don't start on me the moment I walk into the house." He sat down on a stool at the table next to Daisy and took her hand in both of his. "It smells like you did some baking today." His voice dropped, his eyes on her mouth. "I can't remember a time when I didn't come home to the wonderful smell of freshly baked bread." His fingers were cold around her hand, his palms calloused, but they were strong and sure. Her gloominess evaporated, along with all thought of him marrying any other woman.

"I know what you mean. It feels like I've been here forever," Daisy whispered. The two of them might have been alone in the kitchen, cocooned as they were in their conversation. His nearness doing things to her, Daisy pressed her knees together under the table.

"I nearly forgot." Jamin released her hand to pat his pockets. "I have something for you. I saw it in Cape Town and it immediately made me think of you." He pulled a chain out of his shirt pocket and dangled it in front of her. At the bottom of the chain, a disk spun until she caught it in her palm.

She felt Marigold's eyes on them and flashed her a shy smile. The pendant was warm from Jamin's body. Marigold didn't approve of the intimacy between her and her brother, but living in the same house with him, how could Daisy not notice him as a man? She'd lost her memory, but she remembered how to be a woman.

"My day for presents," Daisy said with a grin. "It's beautiful. Thank you, Jamin. I'll think of you every time I wear it." She flung her arms around his neck and kissed him fully on the mouth. Blushing, she pulled away to trace a finger over the delicate pattern of the pendant, her hair hiding her face. "What is it?"

"It's a Celtic knot and a pentacle on top of each other, but don't ask me which is which. It's supposed to bring the wearer protection or balance or something, the woman behind the counter told me. But whatever it means, I liked it and I thought you might, too." He pushed to his feet. "Let me help you put it on."

She lifted her hair off her neck so he could drape the necklace around her throat. When he finished, he rested his hands on her shoulders until she looked up at him and their eyes met. He quickly checked that his sister wasn't watching before he pressed his cheek to hers.

From the corner of her eye she saw his lips part. Kiss me, she wanted to beg, but didn't. She wanted to reach up and run her fingers through his hair, but she daren't. Marigold cleared her throat, which reminded them they were not alone. Jamin straightened and turned away.

Her eyes dropped to her hands clasped in her lap as she battled to draw breath. The depth of her feelings for Jamin shattered her. She was on fire from his touch, wanting him so much. How could she have missed these feelings for so long?

A lump formed in her throat, which she tried to clear as he walked into the lounge. His back was straight in the flannel shirt, his blue jeans snug around his hips, the red braces holding them up. Even when he hunkered down and got busy with making the fire in the other room, she couldn't take her eyes off him. His wide shoulders were stiff with the tension she herself felt.

"What did you go to the university for?" she asked through the open door.

He struck a match and held it to the kindling before he answered. "I wanted to ask Professor Neethling if there was anything we could do to help your memory, but I think I'll have to marry you before you remember stuff, just in case you decide to run away when you do." A soft smile tweaked the corners of his mouth, his honey eyes meeting hers across the space.

"But you're going to marry Lettie." Her chest was tight, her palms suddenly damp. He had been thinking about their future, he must have, if he could bring marriage so casually into the conversation, and that with his sister listening. The wind rattled the windows in their frames, driving rain tapping against the glass.

"I've never intended to ask Lettie..." Jamin trailed off.

Marigold cleared her throat. "Daisy, what if you already have someone, a husband even, where you come from?"

"If I do and he hasn't found me after all this time, maybe he doesn't want to find me. I don't remember a man."

Premonition quivered down her spine, her mood turning from glum to as stormy as the weather outside. The only man she wanted was Jamin, and whether she could or should didn't come into it.

Just then there were running footsteps on the veranda and she heard Marigold releasing her breath. Jumping from her chair, Daisy dashed into her bedroom. She couldn't face Lettie right now, not yet. She needed a moment to pull herself together, to get her emotions under control.

Even though she closed the door quietly behind herself, the sounds of Lettie blowing into the house reached her through it. She silently screamed her frustration, her fist shoved into her mouth. She hated Lettie, for the simple reason that Lettie was going to win by default. There was no barrier between Lettie and Jamin, unlike the insurmountable problems—her memory and her skin color—keeping Jamin and herself apart.

Lettie was marriable, she was not. Nothing had to happen first before Lettie could have whomever she liked. She didn't have to remember an elusive past, in case someone with a prior claim was waiting for her. Lettie wasn't white either, leaving her uncomplicated.

Making a concerted effort to calm down, Daisy stared out the window without seeing anything, breathing deep, soothing breaths.

Nothing was Lettie's fault, and she didn't really hate her. If Jamin took Marigold's advice and married Lettie, they had her blessing, even though it would break her heart. She'd have to leave, to spare her seeing the happy couple every day. But Jamin wasn't fickle—he never touched Lettie's hand, as he often did hers, she'd never seen them whispering together, as he did with her nearly every day when he got home from work. There was nothing to indicate he preferred Lettie, so why all the angst she was feeling now?

Her feelings for Jamin weren't new, she'd only newly recognized it for what it was—love, real, all-consuming, impatient love.

It made her stronger, but for the moment, she had to keep it to herself.

With a final deep breath, she opened the bedroom door. She couldn't hide in there all night. From the shadows, she allowed herself a moment to study Lettie.

Tiny, with a huge backside—her Khoisan heritage, as was her yellow skin and wide, flat nose—she was undeniably pretty, although San people didn't age well. A feisty and clever young woman who didn't allow people, especially men, to push her around. She'd make Jamin a wonderful wife—he'd never be bored with her around.

Compared to her own insipid self, Lettie was far more colorful. Daisy's best feature was her blue eyes. Everything else was pale and bland, from her waist-long hair to her skin, because she so rarely went outside into the sun. She might as well have been a ghost, wishy-washy and see-through.

When Jamin came to help Lettie out of her coat, Daisy joined Marigold by the stove. Her friend squeezed her hand and Daisy gave her a wan smile. Even though Marigold suspected what was going on between her and Jamin, she clearly felt it her duty to protect all three younger people by promoting a liaison between Jamin and Lettie. She meant well, Daisy knew that.

Jamin hung Lettie's coat with his own and Marigold's cape behind the door. When he turned to face her, his fists on his hips, a frown drew his dark brows together. "Trousers again, Lettie?"

"In this weather, yes. It's warm." Lettie shook her head, sending a few drops of rain from her tightly curled hair into his face. "What of it?" she challenged, lifting her chin.

"It's mannish, and you know how it's frowned upon for a woman to wear pants in public."

"Check the worry in my eyes," Lettie muttered mutinously. "I'm not in public, am I? Or has your house changed status since I've been here last?" She made her way around the table to the lounge when she saw Daisy huddling by the stove with Marigold.

"Hello, Daisy. Wow, what an unusual pendant. It's beautiful. Let me see?"

"Isn't it gorgeous?" Daisy smiled, lifting the necklace by the chain. When Lettie cupped it in her hands for a closer look, Daisy caught a whiff of the other girl's perfume. Lettie was a perfect package. How could she compete with her? She had nothing to offer Jamin except herself and her problems.

Daisy wasn't about to tell Lettie who had given her the necklace and Lettie didn't ask. She glanced at Jamin where he stood in the doorway, his hands in his pockets. He was watching her and she smiled at him. If he wanted Lettie to know he bought Daisy a present, he could tell her himself—she wouldn't like it.

"Very unusual," Lettie said as she dropped the disk. It settled comfortingly between Daisy's breasts. When Lettie turned to Jamin, Daisy quickly sat at the table, her knees suddenly too wobbly to keep her standing.

"Don't make an issue of the trousers-thing, Benjamin," Lettie purred when she passed him into the lounge. "You know I'm way ahead of the times. Ohh, a fire. How thoughtful of you."

Jamin followed her. "Yes, I know you're modern, but I don't like trousers on a woman."

"Just like you don't like my ambition to follow a career outside the home. You don't object to Marigold working." Lettie rubbed her hands together in front of the friendly flames.

"Nursing is a noble profession, as is teaching, very fit for a woman. Why do you have to be a pharmacist? It's a white man's job." Jamin ushered Lettie back into the kitchen and took the stool next to Daisy at the table, leaving Lettie to see to herself. Marigold pulled the last chair out and sat.

"Your brother is out to pick on me again, Mari. Must be the weather getting to him. What do you think about women wearing trousers when it's cold, Daisy?"

"I see absolutely nothing wrong with it. I practically live in trousers myself."

Lettie made an I told you so face at Jamin, but Marigold gasped.

"Daisy, what are you saying? You never wear trousers. Are you remembering something, honey?"

The smile on Daisy's face slipped as Marigold's words sank in. "I don't know why I said that. I don't remember anything before I came to live here. I don't even have trousers, do I?"

Jamin wrapped his arms about Daisy's waist, his cheek against hers. "Don't push for a memory, sweetheart. It'll come to you when you're ready. That's what the professor told me today." Daisy closed her eyes as she turned her face into his neck, breathing in his smell. Rain and laundry and Jamin was a heady combination. "He said it might take years, or it might happen at the snap of your fingers."

When she opened her eyes and saw over his shoulder the slack-jawed stare Lettie gave them, she sat forward in her chair to dislodge him, her face bright red. He got up to check the fire.

"Is there something I should know?" Lettie asked when Jamin took his place again.

"As a matter of fact, there is," Jamin said, his brows pulling together. "I love this woman." He took Daisy's hand, patting the back of it. Daisy and Marigold both kicked him under the table. "Ouch," he complained, but beamed at Lettie. "She's my other sister, how can I help loving her?"

"Behave, Jamin," Marigold warned as she got up from the table. "And stop teasing Lettie. I need a volunteer to help me dish up."

Lettie wasn't fooled or mollified. She glared at Daisy and Jamin as she got to her feet to help Marigold.

As soon as the two women's backs were turned, Jamin took Daisy's hand under the table and leaned closer. "I need to speak to you, alone. I promised myself to wait, but I have waited long enough."

He smiled innocently at his sister when she cast a glance at the table, but he didn't let go of Daisy's hand.

"The salt isn't on the table yet, Lettie. Please, will you get it?" Marigold asked. "And then you can slice a couple of tomatoes and some of Daisy's lovely bread."

The salt cellar appeared on the table, Lettie casting them a pointed look. When she turned away to fetch the bread and tomatoes, Jamin deemed it safe to add softly, "I'll come to your room later, when Mari is in bed." Then he let go of her hand and rested both elbows on the table.

Daisy collected the serviettes from the sideboard and set them out. By then the food was dished up, and Marigold and Lettie in their places.

There wasn't much talk over the noise of the storm, but Daisy was painfully aware of Jamin beside her, and Lettie on his other side. Lettie pouted and smiled and clung to his arm to whisper in his ear.

Unshed tears made it difficult for Daisy to swallow. It wasn't fair that Lettie could touch and flirt with Jamin, while she had to control herself and mind what she said. She had to force the food down, but it was delicious and helped her to relax, and she surprised herself by finishing everything on her plate. And felt better for it.

Jamin pushed his empty plate away. "Lovely, sis. Thank you girls for a lovely dinner. What did I do to deserve a pair of accomplished cooks like you two?"

"You must all come to mine sometime soon," Lettie said, smiling into Jamin's eyes. "Let me spoil you for a change. I can cook, you know." She rested her chin on Jamin's shoulder, implying that cooking wasn't all she could do. Daisy wanted to kick the woman under the table, but she didn't, of course.

Jamin got to his feet and pulled Lettie up. "Come, let me see you home. A girl shouldn't be out on a night like this, trousers or no trousers."

Daisy saw the look Lettie sent Marigold, looking for support, as if Lettie felt herself losing all hope with Jamin.

Marigold checked the clock. "No, Jamin, it's Friday night and it's still early. Why don't you take Lettie into the lounge while Daisy and I clear up?" She raised a brow at her brother when he opened his mouth to object.

Only when the door closed behind the two of them did Daisy allow her shoulders to sag. She didn't want Lettie alone with Jamin behind a closed door. Why didn't the woman go home and stay there? Lettie would do anything for Jamin's attention, especially now that she suspected something was brewing between him and Daisy.

If only she could remember her past. If only she could be sure there wasn't someone waiting for her back where she came from. "Why can't I remember, Marigold? What's wrong with me?"

"It's only a matter of time, honey," Marigold said as she settled herself at the table and took Daisy's hand in both her own. The candle cast a pool of yellow light around the two of them. She studied Daisy for a while in the dancing light before she said, "It's the storm that's making you feel jittery. There's nothing physically wrong with you. You're fully recovered."

"Recovered from what? What happened to me?" She heard the desperate note in her own voice. "Where did I come from? Who am I?"

Marigold patted her hand. "What brought this on?" she asked, leaning over the table to feel the younger woman's forehead.

Daisy pulled away with a tiny frown. "I'm not sick, Marigold, and it isn't the storm. It's been a whole year and... How old am I? What's my star sign?" She met Marigold's eyes. They were so like her brother's. "I mean, why don't I have any memories apart from living here with you and Jamin? Don't get me wrong," she quickly added when Marigold opened her mouth. "I love you both very much, but I need to know who I am." She turned Marigold's hand over and put her own on top. "I know I don't belong here. We're too different. I'm white, and you and Jamin and Lettie...are not."

The contrast between their hands was strikingly obvious, even in the flickering light of the single candle. Daisy's hand was milky white against Marigold's brown one. Withdrawing her hand and getting up from the table, she started to pace. She felt Marigold's eyes on her as she went back and forth, back and forth, in front of the rattling window.

"Do I have a job, like you and Jamin and Lettie? What are my qualifications? What's beyond this valley? Have I ever been to Cape Town? What's my last name?" She stopped in front of Marigold. "Am I married, or in a relationship? Do I have children?"

"We don't know," Marigold said. "This is about Jamin, isn't it?"

Daisy flung herself back into her chair. "Obviously. But if I have a boyfriend or a husband, shouldn't I have some memory of him? Why hasn't he come for me in all this time? Has anyone looked for me at all? It feels as if my memories have been erased."

Silence settled over the two women and they both jumped when the lounge door banged open, and Jamin preceded Lettie into the kitchen. Daisy dashed to her feet, and started putting the washed and dried crockery away in an attempt to avoid looking at them.

But she glanced over her shoulder when Jamin said, "Look, if you're not going to be serious, I might as well take you home." He was already on his way to the back door, his face set, avoiding his sister's eyes. "When I come back, the three of us are going to work out a strategy to find Daisy's past."

"Jamin, don't shut me out," Lettie cried. "I was serious."

"Are you that keen to be rid of me, Jamin?" Daisy asked quietly from the other side of the room.

He reached her with long strides, taking both her hands in his, and pressed her fingers to his chest. "No, not to get rid of you, but the sooner we know who you are, the sooner we can think about the future."

Marigold headed for the hall. "I just thought of something I should have done a long time ago. Sit down, all of you. No one is going anywhere yet." She was back moments later. "I don't know if it will make any difference to your memory, but it's worth a try."

She handed Daisy a neat stack of clothes. "That's everything you wore a year ago when Jamin brought you home. You looked as if you'd been dragged backward through a hedge, but I washed and mended your clothes as best I could. Your coat was beyond my talents and I had to throw it away. Strange clothes. You must be from very far away."

She placed a black and silvery thing on the table. "You had this in the pocket of your coat. Lights used to come on when we pressed the buttons, but after a few days, it made a beep, beep, beep sound and the window went black. After that, the lights didn't come on again. Do you know what it is?"

Daisy picked it up and turned it over in her fingers before she shook her head.

"Never mind. It couldn't have been very important, and it doesn't work anymore, anyway. I think you should wear your own things tomorrow, to see if it brings anything back to you."

Lettie cleared her throat. "You know, Mari, you just might have something there. Either way, it can't do any harm. The vibes from your own things might help to tweak your memory, Daisy." Lettie reached across the table. "Give me your hand."

"Lettie," Jamin warned, but he held his peace when Daisy put her hand in Lettie's caramel one after barely a hesitation. Lettie folded her fingers around Daisy's and closed her eyes. Daisy saw the look passing between Jamin and Marigold. They both jumped when Lettie exclaimed and shot to her feet, making the candle flame dance.

The only sound in the kitchen was the thunder rumbling in the distance.

"What is it, Lettie? What happened?" Marigold asked. They all turned to Daisy, who looked as if she was in a trance. "What's wrong with her? What have you done?"

Lettie swallowed before sitting down again. "It can't be," she muttered. "It isn't possible." She took Daisy's hand again. "I've never seen anything like this, never even heard of something like this happening."

"What is it, Lettie," Jamin barked. "Tell me."

Startled, Daisy blinked as if she'd been woken from a deep sleep. Marigold put her finger across her lips. Lettie's caramel complexion had turned a sickly shade of yellow. She kept her eyes closed for what seemed like forever, then patted Daisy's hand, calmly getting to her feet, heading for the door.

"Jamin, I want to go home. Please, will you take me?"

Marigold touched the younger woman's arm. "Lettie? Tell me what happened."

"Nothing happened. I don't know what I'm doing with that psychic stuff. I can't really see. My imagination is running away with me. Jamin, please, can we go now?"

Jamin met his sister's eyes. "I won't be long." The candle flame gyrated madly when he opened the door, and a blast of rain blew into the kitchen.

"Thanks for dinner, Marigold. Good night, Daisy," Lettie said to the night outside. Jamin closed the door quietly behind them.

Marigold took Daisy's limp hand in both her own. "What happened, sweetheart? You look as if you've seen a ghost."

"I don't know." She tangled her fingers in her hair. "All day long I've had the feeling that I should remember something. When Lettie touched my hand, it was like a jolt in my head. I saw faces, but no one I recognize. I'm so confused."

"I think you're trying too hard to remember, and we're all wrong to push you. There might not even be anything significant in your past to remember. We shouldn't make such a fuss about it."

"But what if there's something very important?" she persisted. "I don't want to remember anything. I want to stay just as I am, here with Jamin." She lifted her eyes to Marigold's. "And you. I want to get a job so I won't be such a burden on you. I feel guilty that you pay for everything, even my clothes and toiletries. And Jamin buys my cigarettes. If I'm going to be useful, I need to remember what I can do. I only want to remember certain things."

"You're not a burden to us, Daisy. Jamin and I both love taking care of you, although I'm getting very worried about you and him."

"I know."

Marigold pushed away from the table. "I don't know what to say to you, Daisy. You should go to bed. If nothing else, a good night's rest will give you a clear head in the morning."

After hugging Marigold, Daisy picked up her cigarettes and went into her bedroom. In the doorway, she turned. "I know you don't want to hear it, Marigold, but I'm in love with Jamin. If there is someone in my past, I'd rather not know. Does that make me a terrible person?"

Marigold crossed the room and touched her shoulder. "Of course not. But Jamin is the only man you know."

"That's not why I love him. He's kind and sexy and clever."

"Daisy! That wasn't what I meant. I only meant Jamin is here, you see him every day. It is inevitable for you to start thinking differently about him. Whatever happened to you wiped your memories away, but who is to say what you'd feel if you came face to face with your husband or boyfriend. Jamin is right to try to find out everything about you. It's for your protection."

"I still don't want to know about the past. I want to stay right here with him. Good night, Marigold," she said. "Thank you for being a friend." She softly closed the door.

Jess shook her head, the girly room coming into focus again. The faint whiff of something floral, like lilies, hung in the room. Mobility returned to her limbs and she ran, leaving the door wide open behind her. She didn't care about the noise she made as she dashed down the hall to her room.

That interlude had been so real, she'd felt part of it. The likeness of the woman in the mirror to Daisy in the vision was so striking they could have been the same person, but how could they be?

Who was Daisy?

She slowed as she reached her room and, about to slam the door behind her, she yelped, clutching her chest. Ethel stood outside the room, the candle in her hand casting flickering highlights across her face, accentuating the wrinkles, making her eyes glitter. She hadn't been there a moment ago, Jess was sure she wouldn't have rushed right past her without seeing her.

Swallowing hard, she attempted outrage. "What are you doing here, Ethel? Are you trying to scare me out of my wits?" First the old man downstairs with his pet shadow, then the vision in the mirror, now Ethel. Jess' nose twitched and she sneezed behind her hand. "What's that smell?"

"You're a frivolous city girl," Ethel said, ignoring the questions. "If you weren't necessary, you'd never have come here in the first place."

Was Ethel scolding her for picking up the nuances in the house? Another sneeze threatened but never materialized. The overpowering smell of lilies was gone.

"Speak plainly so I can understand you," Jess bit out. "Necessary for what?" She was ready to revise her original assessment that Ethel was a card short of a spread—she seemed to be missing more than one.

"You'll know soon enough." Ethel straightened as much as she could and started to turn away.

"Ethel, whose room is that?" She pointed at the open door down the hall. "Is it Millicent's?"

"It was Roxanne's. No one ever goes in there now."

That must be the room Ben had mentioned, the one that was not to be disturbed, the room someone kept meticulously clean. "Roxanne and Ben didn't share a bedroom?" she asked, more for the sense of the normality of talking to a living human being than wanting to know. Ben's life with his wife was not a topic she wanted to think about.

"Of course they did. They were married, weren't they?" Ethel raised a brow. "That was Roxanne's room before she married Ben. She liked it kept as it was for when Amber outgrew the nursery, or when the next baby came along."

Jess frowned. "Didn't the twins share a bedroom as children?" That was surprising. Weren't identical twins supposed to be inseparable?

Ethel sighed as if explaining simple facts was getting tedious. "Of course they did, when they were young and liked each other."

"Liked each other?" Jess repeated. "But they were twins, and according to Millicent—"

"Yes, well, let's just say they had different ideas as they grew older, and leave it at that."

"Who is Marigold?" she blurted.

When Ethel smiled her strangely white smile, Jess knew she wasn't going to get an answer. "Go to sleep now. You're going to need your strength tomorrow. They won't give up without a fight."

Jess searched for the light switch beside the door. "They? You mean the sisters? What are they coming to fight about? Ethel..." She was addressing the empty space where the old woman had been a moment before. Glancing up and down the dark hall, the housekeeper was just...gone.

Quickly closing the door, Jess leaned against it. The wood was cold against her back. She should have asked Ethel about the talking bed.

A shiver shook her shoulders. The room felt damp and cold, as the fire had burned too low to give off much heat. Adding a couple of logs from the bucket beside the fireplace, she watched as they caught, holding her hands to the flames. Only when they were warm and toasty did she turn away.

A bit later, changed into her pajamas, she was sitting in the window seat, staring out over the dark storm swept landscape. She was too scared to try out the bed. Maybe her judgment was clouded by her city mentality, as Ethel suggested, but this house, with its inhabitants and visitors, was having an unhealthy influence on her common sense.

If only someone would give her straight answers, she could amend her perspective accordingly. It all boiled down to Roxanne, that much was for sure. The dead woman's presence hung about the place like a tangible thing.

A floorboard creaked in the hallway outside Jess' door. She held her breath, expecting some ethereal being to float through the wooden panel. She was scared to death.

But when the creak came again, she clicked her tongue and hopped off the window seat. Ghosts didn't make floorboards creak. Yanking the door open, she intended to give Ethel, or Jan, or whoever was prowling around, the sharp edge of her tongue. There was a real, live human being outside her door, and as such, nothing to be scared of.

Ben stood in the passage, shirtless, his knuckles raised to knock, blood staining the bandages on his arm. Jess glanced up and down the hall. The door to Roxanne's room was closed and no one else was around. Unceremoniously, she pulled him inside and closed the door.

A quick glance around the room had her biting her lip. It looked untidy. No, lived-in, she amended. She couldn't help that her clothes were draped all over the place. How else was she supposed to get them dry? If they didn't dry, she'd have more than underwear missing from her apparel tomorrow. Forgetting about the state of her room, she turned to face Ben.

His jaw was clenched, his eyes glittering in the light from the fire. Instead of the tongue lashing she'd planned, she had to swallow before she could croak, "What's going on in this house of yours?"

"Nothing has been normal around here since my wife died," he said in a strained voice. "Then you came as if you'd been sent to me." She smelled the whiskey on his breath, mingled with the smell of cigarettes. "I can't stop thinking about...earlier," he said thickly, closing the gap between them, gritting his teeth. "I can't resist you, Jessica. If you don't want this, stop me now."

Her hands flattened against his bare chest when he took the final step. His arms folded around her. "Ben, you're not thinking clearly," she whispered, his unique smell of sunshine and soap mingled with that of tobacco and alcohol too heady a mix for her own clear thinking.

"No, I'm not. Let's keep it that way. I want you, and you made it clear you want me." His skin was hot under her palms, and there was nothing she could do to resist the pulling sensation from her belly button and the pushing from the small of her back. His eyes burned into hers. "If you don't stop me now, I'm afraid it's going to be too late."

"I don't want to stop you, but I don't want you to hate yourself in the morning, either."

"We'll worry about that in the morning." His arms locked around her crushed her breasts to the hard wall of his chest. "I need you, Jessica."

The fire bronzed his features, but she saw only his mouth lowering to hers. He'd kissed her before, but that hadn't prepared her for this moment, or the way he claimed her lips and made them his own. The moment his tongue tangled with hers, she knew there was no going back.

Curling her fingers into the soft hair in his neck, she gave herself over to his kiss. This time she wouldn't allow him to pull away from her. He walked her backward to the middle of the room, lifting his head only to whip her pajama top over her head and toss it onto the chair in the corner.

In the light from the fire, he looked at her as he filled his hands with her breasts. Her nipples pebbled painfully. His deep throated groan as he took first one, then the other in his mouth, pooling desire like liquid fire low in her body. As she hugged his head to her, she felt him tremble.

His jeans dropped to the floor. "I can't remember anymore why it was so important to resist you. Are you okay, Jessica?" His voice was tight.

She closed her eyes, nodding, and she heard him swallow. This man's need was even greater than she'd thought. That warmed her from the inside and a flush of pleasure spread over her. "Yes, I am." She smiled, smoothing her palms over his fire bronzed pectorals. "This isn't what I planned when I set out for my interview this morning, but it's what I want now."

Pulling her back into his arms, he rasped. "You're beautiful."

"So are you. Please, shut up and make love to me."

"Yes, ma'am." She heard his grin. His arms circled her body as he claimed her mouth, demanding all she had to give. Her arms locked around his neck and she met his tongue stroke for stroke, coaxing another groan out of him.

His hands shivered down her back. When they reached her hips, he pulled her to him, hard. His groan vibrated deep in his chest. Jess felt the sound against her. The small adjustment of his hands to her bottom allowed him to push her even harder against the ridge of his erection.

She wanted him as she'd never wanted anyone else.

Hooking his thumbs into her waistband, he peeled her pj bottoms down her legs. Her skin tingled in the wake of his touch. When he reached her ankles, he took her hand. "Step," he said, and when she did the second time, she kicked the pants away.

"No underwear?" He grinned at her. Grateful he couldn't see her guilty blush, she grinned back and said nothing.

He forgot her lack of modesty as he started to kiss his way up her body from the triangle at the top of her legs, pausing to swirl his tongue around her belly button, then up her sternum.

She rolled her head to the side when he reached the sensitive skin of her throat. Her heart raced, fit to leave the country. Could he feel her erratic pulse with his lips?

"What are you doing to me," she sighed.

His stubble grazed her delicate skin as his teeth followed her collar bone, thumbs drawing circles on her lower belly, going down, down. The double anticipation of the moment he would reach both her nipple and her clit was nearly unbearable.

They both groaned when he sucked her deep into his mouth. At the same time his thumb found the hard pebble where her legs joined. Jess dug her nails into his shoulders, her head dropping back when her knees gave way.

She nearly came on the spot.

As if he knew how close she was, Ben hooked his arm behind her legs and swung her up against his chest. Crashing thunder drowned out the crackling of the new logs on the fire. The flash of lightning lingered in the room, but neither of them noticed.

"I'm glad you came, Jessica," he groaned against her lips. "I don't need another old woman, I need a young one with fire in her veins." He tugged at her lip with his teeth. "I need you."

Jess wanted to tell him she was his, and that he was welcome, but he kissed her again, their tongues tangling, before she could articulate the thought. He took her to bed. She should warn him about the bed, but he was already lowering her onto it and her mouth had better things to do than talk. He kissed her so well.

Supporting his weight on his good arm, his mouth inches from hers, he started saying, "Jessica, I—" He never completed the thought.

In the next instant, they landed in a heap of tangled arms and legs on the floor, the back of her head hitting hard enough to jar her teeth. Furniture in this house, apparently, were allowed to have life of their own for the amount of attention he gave it, for he gathered her into his arms without comment as he got to his feet.

He carried her to the padded window seat. White light filled the room, instantly followed by thunder cracking overhead when he gently lowered her, then found his jeans on the floor and took something from the pocket, his eyes traveling the length of her naked body. She flushed, simultaneously too hot and too cold.

Would he hurry up already? Her need was nearly more than she could bear.

Only when he stared at his hands did she see the foil packet. "Came prepared, did you?"

He smiled sheepishly. "Of course. I knew what I wanted. I hope I remember what to do with it."

"Can I help?" Jess asked, sitting up.

"No, that's okay, I'll manage, I'm sure." He ripped the packet open. The memory must have come back, because it didn't take him long to sheath himself.

And then he was in the window seat, pulling her against him, grinding his hard-on against her. Jess' breath hitched, and it was all she could do not to spread her legs, demanding immediate entry.

Wait until you're asked!

It was hard to do nothing when his naked male body was pressed so intimately to her naked feminine one, his special fragrance flooding her senses. He rolled her to her back and raised himself on his good elbow, his boner pulsing against her hip. His face above hers, his eyes devoured her as he smoothed her hair off her face. The urge to wriggle to get closer to him, was very strong. She lifted her chin to offer him her lips, but he cupped her head in both hands. His breath fanned her face, but still he made no move.

Had he changed his mind? Touching his lips with her fingers, she nudged closer to him, trying to get under him, until he flung his leg over hers to keep her still. She couldn't let him cool off now.

But when he lowered his head until their foreheads touched, she saw his eyes tightly closed.

Crap, he was having second thoughts!

She had to do something, and fast. Although he had her effectively immobilized partly under him, she managed to twist her hips until his arousal pushed against her in the right place. Ahh! She just barely managed to clamp her lips together. She wanted him inside her so badly. What was he doing? He was already wearing the condom, protecting them both, and she was more than ready for him.

"Please, Ben, hurry," she murmured against his lips, rubbing her breasts against his chest and gyrating her hips.

"Keep still, baby," he muttered, and when he lifted his head, she saw the cords standing out in his neck.

"What are you waiting for?" she breathed.

"I wanted to go slow, but I can't..." He lifted himself over her, finally pushing her thighs apart. She rocked against him, tilting her hips to meet him.

"Please..."

He groaned when he entered her, hard and fast, as deep as he could go. Her gasp mingling with another belly-deep groan from him.

He held still, deep inside her, then his body folded around her as he wrapped his arm under her hips. He held her so tight Jess could barely breathe, but she wasn't complaining. With muscles trembling, he withdrew and drove into her again. And then, as if something came unglued, he pounded into her, teeth bared, eyes locked with hers. She clung to him, her hips lifting to receive his powerful thrusts while his harsh breath fanned her face.

When the dam broke, it took her breath away. She shattered around him as her legs kicked out straight, her head tossing on the padding. She fell apart in the most insane orgasm of her life.

Ben grunted as he followed her over the edge, shuddering, his breathing ragged and erratic, swallowing convulsively. He collapsed on top of her, his forehead on the padding above to hers.

His body shook for a long time, his heartbeat hard and fast against her breasts. She panted, trying to slow her own speeding heart while her breath rasped over bruised lips.

Eventually, Ben lifted his head and supported his weight on his elbows to look down at her. His eyes were dark liquid pools when he cupped her face in his hands and gently kissed her.

Rain poured in rivulets down the windows, and lightning flashed sporadically to brighten the room. Thunder rumbled farther away. Every now and then, smoke puffed down the chimney. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered, except Ben's comforting weight pressing her into the cushions, his lips leisurely perusing hers.

It took a while for their breathing to return to normal.

"That was soul deep." She wasn't sure if she heard right or what he meant, but she let it go, because this changed everything.

Languidly stroking the tips of her fingers down the valley of his spine and up his sides, she contemplated in what way making love with Ben changed things. Her eyes on the dancing shadows the flames cast on the walls, she rolled with him when he eased off her, her cheek against his chest.

It didn't matter, nothing mattered, as long as she was in Ben's orbit. She wanted more of him, so much more.

A particularly loud clap of thunder roused Ben. He lifted his head, blinked at Jess, and ran his tongue over his lips before rolling to the edge of the window seat. His unruly hair stuck up in all directions. Removing the condom, he tied a knot in it before dropping it to the floor.

She stretched dreamily, knowing he was studying her intently in the gloom, prodding his arm. The dark patches on the bandages were bigger now.

Jess shivered as her body cooled. She got to her knees to wrap her arms around him. Her palms flat against his chest, she pressed herself to his back to share his warmth. But it wasn't enough. Leaning around his shoulder, she found his mouth.

Even though he pulled her onto his lap, she sensed his withdrawal. "What is it, Ben?"

Sighing, he shifted her to the cushions to get up. She pulled her knees up to her chin and watched him root around in the semi dark for his clothes. Pulling his jeans up over his hips, he picked up the condom and shoved it into his pocket before he found her pajamas and tossed them onto the cushions within her reach.

"Jessica, I don't want a lover."

"But just now you said you needed—"

"I did, and I probably will always want you, but I'm not ready for a relationship. Friendship is the best I can offer you."

"Friends with benefits?" It was a start, wasn't it?

"She'll never let me love again." He gnashed his teeth on his way to the door, Jess saw the telltale movement of the muscles in his face by the light of the fire.

"Who?" Jess didn't buy into the Roxanne-is-still-alive thing. If Ben said she was dead, then she must be. He should know.

She didn't believe in ghosts, either.

Yet, something unseen was pushing her into Ben's arms, and now he himself brought up the possibility of loving again, in a roundabout sort of way. If her opinion were asked, she'd have said someone very much wanted him to love again.

There was a logical explanation for all the creepiness, her own overactive imagination, for instance. Making love with Ben felt right, like she belonged in his arms. He'd worked through the loss of his wife, and he was ready to move on, regardless of what he said.

Jess pulled her pajama top over her head and stood to drag on the bottoms. She was going to have to be careful, or she'd fall in love with him. She pulled her lip between her teeth— if she wasn't already.

Ben stooped to flip the mattress back onto the base of the bed.

"Won't you tell me about her?" Jess whispered.

His face was deeply shadowed when he turned to her. "Sometime. Good night, Jessica."

Jess gasped when he opened the door.

Millicent stood outside in the hall. "What's going on here?" she demanded, taking in both Jess' and Ben's disheveled appearances.

He glanced at Jess before snapping at his sister-in-law, "What's it to you? What do you want?"

"It isn't necessary to be rude, Ben. I thought I heard Amber cry. Where is she?"

"Asleep in her bed, where she belongs." He would have closed the door in her face, but she must have anticipated the move and took a step forward.

"You're not getting up to something, are you, Ben?" Her eyes flicked back and forth between them. Something flashed in her hand.

Jess gasped before she recognized the ever present mobile.

Jeez, even prowling around in the dark, she had her phone in her hand. Who did she expect to call in the middle of the night?

She was one weird wench.

"Go to bed, Millicent. It's late, and I'm not in the mood for another confrontation."

"Ben, don't torture yourself. It can never be." Millicent's voice shook, as if she held a very deep emotion in check. She raised both arms to hug him, but never made the contact, because this time Ben slammed the door closed in her face.

Jess caught a glimpse of Ethel in the shadows on the landing the moment before the door closed with a bang. Wow. The old woman seemed to be everywhere.

"Is it Millicent who won't let you love again?" Jess asked. "Because of the promise she made to your wife?"

Ben leaned his forehead against the door. After a moment, he brushed his hair off his face and turned. "Yes and no. Millicent thinks I belong to her. But she's right about one thing—this is sheer torture. Jessica, I was okay before you came. My life was in order and running smoothly. Now nothing will ever be all right again, because now I want what I can't have."

"And that is?"

"It's going to be hard to resist you."

"Why do you have to resist me?" she asked quietly. "I can make you happy, Ben." That was not what she meant to say, but whoever had put the words in her mouth, it was the truth. More than anything, she wanted the chance to prove it to him.

"I should never have made love to you. Now I've involved you in my family's nonsense." He stopped, his jaw tight. "I'm sorry, Jessica."

"Do you regret it? Honestly?"

He looked at her for a long moment in the gloom without answering.

When he opened the door again, the hallway was empty. He looked back at her once, and then closed the door quietly behind himself.

Jess punched the cushions beside her in frustration.

She didn't come here for romance with the country vet, not seriously, but after what they'd done, the playing field had changed. She wanted Ben, all of him. And it seemed as if someone unseen shared that wish, for him to be happy again.

Yet, at the same time, something or someone didn't want them to be together, and at a guess, Millicent was behind that negativity.

It was more than possible that Millicent wanted her sister's husband for herself, despite her pretense of searching for Roxanne. And Jess was convinced Millicent was making an effort to be creepy to scare off the competition for Ben's affection. That would be her, Jess. But that theory didn't explain the vision Jess had in Roxanne's bedroom, though.

Who was Daisy without memory?

Jess stared at the door long after Ben had closed. She tried to clear her mind of the troubling thoughts bombarding her, when the smell of lilies filled her mind.

Daisy opened the window and sat on the windowsill with her last cigarette of the day, waiting for Jamin's return after taking Lettie home. It was still raining softly, a gentle breeze carrying her smoke away. After tossing the cigarette butt outside, she folded her arms around her legs, staring into the dark.

A little while later, she heard Jamin's truck and then voices in the kitchen. She didn't bother to try to make out the words. They'd be talking about her and the dilemma she presented them. Since acknowledging her feelings for Jamin, she didn't care what or who was in her past. She only wanted Jamin.

He'd said he needed to speak to her. What did he want to talk about? Maybe he wanted to tell her he felt the same way about her. The corners of her mouth tweaked into a smile. Heaven it would be to hear Jamin say the words, Daisy, I love you. Would he kiss her? Would he do more?

Eventually, she had to rouse herself when her teeth started to chatter. She might as well get ready for bed, because Marigold and Jamin were still talking in the kitchen, and it might be a while before his sister turned in.

Sighing heavily, Daisy went to the bathroom to brush her teeth. She scooped a pitcher of water from the bucket left there for this purpose and rinsed her mouth. On her way back to her room, she didn't glance into the kitchen as she passed the door, and neither did she try to make out what the conversation was about.

Back in her room, she changed into her nightie and settled cross-legged in the middle of the bed to wait for Jamin. A single candle cast dancing shadows on the walls. Her heart raced, a knot of anticipation in her belly.

Marigold once mentioned this used to be Jamin's room, but since she came, he slept in the small utility room at the end of the veranda.

It felt like hours passed before Jamin tapped against her door. Daisy looked up when the door opened, exhaling her breath at the sight of him.

"There you are," she said with a smile. "I thought you changed your mind about talking."

He slipped into the room and closed the door quietly behind himself. His hands in his pockets, he watched her with those deep, golden eyes, his lips slightly parted. She felt the need to clear her throat, to swallow the lump his silent regard formed there.

"What did Lettie say?" she asked.

"Never mind Lettie." He took a step closer to her. "I need to talk to you, Daisy."

"So you said." She patted the bedding in front of her. He climbed onto the mattress and sat down crossed-legged, facing her with their knees touching, and took her hands. "What is it, Jamin? You're making me nervous."

"Don't be, baby." He brought her hands, first one, then the other, to his mouth to press the knuckles to his lips, before he met her gaze. She gasped when he slipped from the bed to his knee. Pressing the backs of her hands to his chest, looking her straight in the eye, he cleared his throat.

"I love you, Daisy. Not as a sister as I told Lettie, but as a man loving a woman." He brought her left hand to his mouth to kiss her ring finger. "Will you marry me, Daisy? Please, make me the happiest man in the world and say yes."

Her face split into a smile. "Of course I'll marry you, Jamin," she said without hesitation.

A grin spread his beautiful mouth as he hooked a hand behind her head to pull her down to him. The kiss was full of possession, and she opened her mouth for him, tangling her tongue with his. Without breaking the contact, he shifted from the floor to the edge of the bed so that he could cup one breast in his enormous, calloused hand.

She gasped into his mouth. He immediately dropped his hand, lifting his head. "I'm so sorry, Daisy, I—"

Rising to her knees in front of him, she took his hand and put it back on her breast before she wrapped her arms around his head and kissed him deeply. His splayed fingers contracted around her soft flesh, the pad of his thumb flicking over her nipple. When he cupped her other breast, she thought her heart would explode.

Impatient, he pulled at the neck of her nightie. Between them tugging at it, it ended on the floor at the same time as she scrambled into his lap. He caught her to his chest, grinning down at her. The contrast of his white teeth in his dusky face caught her by surprise. He was gorgeous when he grinned, as if the world belonged to him and he was just reminded of that fact. He looked happy. Her heart swelled with pride that her yes was the reason for his happiness.

He didn't hesitate to claim what she was offering him. Sliding his hand down her ribs, her muscles contracted as he passed over them to cup her intimately in the palm of his hand. Watching his dark hand on her body thrilled her. She wanted the hard ridge of his passion pressing against her back inside her, now. They had both wanted this.

He lifted her off his lap and spread her on the bed, stretching out beside her. Taking her other nipple into his mouth, he sucked hard as his fingers slipped under the elastic of her panties. Parting her wet folds, he slipped his fingers into her.

She arched into his hand, gasping her pleasure. But he was still fully dressed, and she wanted to see his body, feel his hot skin against hers.

His suspenders were the first obstacle, and she pulled his flannel shirt up his back without bothering with the buttons. He sat up to pull it over his head, and it joined her nightie on the floor.

Still wearing his jeans, he stretched out on top of her. His erection pulsed through the fabric. Against her lips, he breathed, "Oh baby, I want you so much. I have dreamed of this for months..."

Suddenly, he broke the kiss and rolled off her to the floor. Daisy batted her eyes to bring him back into focus. "Jamin?" she whispered. "What's wrong?"

On his knees beside the bed, he gripped her hand and pressed it to his forehead, his face against the mattress, breathing hard.

Seriously worried, Daisy scooted off the bed and knelt beside him, her arm around his shoulders. "Jamin? What is it? I'm so sorry... You're scaring me."

He pulled her against him, keeping his face turned away. "Don't, Daisy. You have nothing to apologize for." His voice was muffled against the bed.

"Jamin, please, look at me," she said, cupping his head in her hands. "What is it? Please, tell me!"

"I can't touch you, Daisy. You're white."

It took a moment for her to make sense of his words. White? She hadn't thought of herself as anything different from what he was. But he was right, she was white, and he wasn't. So what?

Relief flooded through her, and bubbled out her throat as a giggle. "Is that what this is about?" He nodded and opened his mouth to say more, but she put her finger across his lips. "You had me worried. But I have news for you, big boy. You're black and I'm most certainly going to touch you, because I love you."

He lifted his face and met her eyes. "You take my breath away," he said. "You scare me, you excite me, and I want you more than I have ever wanted a woman, or anything else, for that matter, in my life. But I mustn't, I can't...not like this."

Still smiling, she inclined her head. "Why not, Jamin? I want you to make love to me. You can't leave me now." She climbed onto his lap, straddling his thighs, and wrapped her arms around him. "You asked me to marry you, remember? We're as good as engaged. It's okay for us to make love." His eyes dropped to watch her lift his hands to her pale skin.

Jamin gasped past his clenched teeth. "You're so beautiful, Daisy." He dragged his eyes back to her face. "That color thing isn't the only reason. I'm scared to touch you because I'm scared I'll hurt you. Maybe you haven't done this before. Sweetheart, do you, um, maybe, remember something, anything at all, about...?"

"Not a thing. We'll find out together, won't we?"

He pulled her against his chest, so tightly she felt his heart beating against her. "Are you absolutely sure about this?" he rasped. "We should wait, get married very quickly first."

She chuckled. "You know, you're too old-fashioned for my good, Jamin. I don't want to wait until we're married. I want to love you now." She nudged his hand closer to her breast. He groaned when his palm cupped its fullness.

"You can't hurt me, but if you do, I'll mend. I want you, Jamin. I promise I won't break." She pulled his dark head down to her kiss, sucking his tongue into her mouth. His skin was smooth and hot under her palms.

"Mari is going to kill us for having the honeymoon before the wedding," he managed to get out against her lips.

"What Marigold doesn't know, Marigold can't be angry about. Forget Marigold, forget everyone, except you and me. Love me, my beautiful Jamin," she purred.

He stiffened. "Will you tell me if I'm doing it wrong?"

"How would I know, Jamin? What shall I compare it to? Just do what comes naturally."

He grinned. "Last chance to bail out. Are you sure you're up for this?"

"Yes, Jamin. Please, shut up and do it."

"Okay, let's get you into bed." He stood in one smooth movement with her legs wrapped around his waist, and lay her down on the bed. He pulled her panties off and tossed them over his shoulder, his knee between her thighs as he knelt on the bed.

"Clothes," she said, pulling her knees together.

"Yes, my love." He grinned as he got off the bed to divest himself of his jeans. Her eyes widened when his erection sprung free.

Lightning flashed through the thin curtains and bathed the room in bright white light. Thunder shook the house. Jamin froze for a second, then lifted his head. His jaw clenched until cords stood out in his neck, his hands fisted on his hips.

Daisy's breath caught in her throat at his naked splendor. He was gorgeous, his dusky skin gleaming in the soft light of the single candle, his manhood proudly erect, nestled in a patch of dark hair.

Oh, God, she wanted him, now.

But he didn't move, standing like a statue while the rain tapped against the window and the wind howled around the corners of the house.

She pushed herself onto her elbows. "Jamin?" He screwed his eyes up and dropped his chin to his chest, his finger and thumb digging into his eye sockets. "Jamin, what's wrong?" She sat up and reached for his hand, her body cooling fast.

He turned his head to meet her eyes. "I can't, Daisy. I mustn't. I will not be disrespectful to you." He stooped and pulled his jeans back on, then flipped the duvet over her. She clutched it to her chin as tears filled her eyes. Shame burned her cheeks and she covered her face with both hands, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

The bed dented under his weight when he sat on the edge. "Daisy, oh, God, Daisy, I'm so sorry," he said. He didn't touch her. "Please, don't cry. You're the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Thank you for trusting me with your love. I want you so much it hurts, but I respect you too much to do this to you before we're married." He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. "Daisy, my love, please, look at me."

She shook her head. "I'm so ashamed, Jamin."

"Don't be. That was the hardest thing I ever had to do in my life, to turn away from you and not dishonor you. Come here."

She felt the bed move again as he leaned closer, and sucked in her breath when he gathered her, duvet and all, into his lap. He made sure she was fully covered before he pulled her hands away from her face.

"I'll go see the reverend tomorrow. We'll be married as soon as he can fit us in. You had better start planning the wedding day, because you're not going to have much time, if I have my way." He wiped his thumb under her eyes. "Please, don't cry. I'll make this up to you, I swear." He kissed the top of her head, then rested his cheek against her hair. "To my mind, there is a right way, and then there is a wrong way of getting things done. I'm desperate for you, but we have a lifetime together to look forward to. I want us to start off right. I stopped only because I love you so much."

She stroked his cheek with her fingertips. "You're even more traditional than I thought."

He grinned, his face relaxing as he touched his lips to hers. "I didn't mean to upset you. We're clearly from very different worlds."

"It would seem so." She wrapped her arms around his head and kissed him, but he only allowed her a minute or so before he pulled away.

"You need to go to sleep now. I'll go to the reverend first thing in the morning." He gently laid her back against the pillows.

"Dream of me," he said, grinning against her lips.

"Jamin, please stay with me."

"I can't, baby. I don't trust myself with you at all."

And then he was gone, leaving her cold and bewildered, the door softly closing behind him. She wiped her face as she sat up. Sleep was going to be a long time coming. But she shouldn't dwell on what had just happened. He was probably right, anyway.

A loud clap of thunder brought Jess back to the present, but only when her shoulders shook did she realize she was crying. She could understand what Daisy was feeling in light of the pleasure she'd just shared with Ben, but what a man her Jamin was. She felt like a voyeur, spying on the most intimately private moment between a man and a woman. Those two loved each other desperately. Jamin was a man of strong principles to control himself like that, and he was so damn hot.

Getting off the window seat, she started walking to the bed before she remembered—it didn't want her. Okay, she also didn't want the bed. It would be better for her to sleep where they'd made love, anyway. She snatched the pillow and duvet off the bed, expecting retaliation. When none came, she settled herself on the cushions in the window.

Her head had barely dented the pillows before the smell of lilies surrounded her again.

Marigold listened for Jamin to leave the house to go to his own room. He had been in Daisy's room a long time. She worried her lip as she wrung her hands. Her brother was going to have his heart broken, and there was nothing she could do to stop him. He was a grown man.

All she could do was to hope Daisy's love was strong enough to reach across the distance to the people she'd left behind—if only she could remember them.

When silence settled over the house, Marigold opened her bedroom door. The clock on the mantle ticked down the minutes until they echoed around the spotless kitchen. Two minutes to go before the witching hour, and she was ready.

The clock's mechanism sounded overly loud in the silence before the clock chimed the midnight hour. Breathing in deeply for eleven tolls, she exhaled as she lifted her arms above her head on the twelfth.

A red candle in a brass holder, smoke spiraling up to the ceiling without a breath of air to disturb it, graced the center of the scrubbed table. Next to the candle, she'd placed a large chunk each of unpolished rose quartz and amethyst. Rose quartz was the portal for love to reconnect and reunite lovers. Amethyst improved the memory and hopefully it would help Daisy remember the people in her past.

In front of this was the Celtic knot pendant Jamin had given Daisy before dinner. Daisy had left it, the chain neatly coiled around the disk, on the kitchen table. After positioning it without touching it, Marigold had poured a circle of salt around the pendant, to bind Jamin's emotions from interfering with the connection between Daisy and her loved ones.

The correspondences were perfect for this work. The moon would be in Libra for two days, even if she couldn't see the moon in the cloudy sky. With the moon in Libra, people tended to take stock of their lives, in particular, their relationships. It was a pity the moon was waning, but this was an emergency.

Concentrating hard, she tried to summon an image of anyone significant in Daisy's past—a husband, a boyfriend, a lover, a child. A picture tried to form, but it rippled as a photo would when submerged in water, and refused to get any clearer, no matter how hard she focused. She'd never be able to identify the face from that blurry image.

All she could do now was to send the energies to Daisy, to help her remember by herself.

Daisy tossed and turned in bed. Her heart was heavy. Jamin wasn't hers, and deep in her soul she feared the chance to finish what he'd started tonight might never come again.

Since Lettie had held her hand, there had been a picture behind her eyelids, and instinctively she knew it was significant. Lettie seemed to have jolted something in her head. Her memory was trying to break through.

That scared her.

She didn't want to remember anything. Memories were going to change everything. She wanted to stay just as she was, and have a future with Jamin.

Closing her eyes, she tried to focus on the image in her head. It was a face, but it was so blurry she couldn't make out the features. The only thing she knew for certain, was that it was the face of a man.

Colors swirled around her, yellow and amber and burnished orange and red. The noise—the noise was deafening. It felt as if her head was about to explode from the noise. She was too hot, and in the next instant she was freezing cold. The silence, when it finally came, hurt her eardrums as much as the noise had.

Time, time alone, quiet time, time to recover, the words echoed in the still of the night.

She woke with a start and sat up in bed. Still naked under the duvet, terror sweat had dampened her body, her breath rasped over dry lips. "Jamin?" she whispered to the dark bedroom. It was still raining softly and thunder rumbled far away, but Jamin wasn't there.

A sob escaped her lips before she could stop it, and determined, she clamped her lips between her teeth in an effort to contain further sounds of sorrow. Flinging the duvet back, she climbed out of bed, and shivered when the chill hit her naked body. The room was dark, the candle having gutted itself long ago, but it didn't occur to her to light another to search for her discarded nightie and panties where Jamin had tossed them.

Dressed, she flung herself facedown onto the pillows and pulled the duvet over her head when fresh tears started flowing. The muscles in her lower body contracted, and she ached for Jamin. In her mind, she relived him as he'd been earlier, gloriously naked and proudly erect, ready to make her his own.

But he was not hers.

Sitting up, she wiped her face with her palms before she reached for a cigarette. Could she ignore the overwhelming feeling that there might not be a future for her with Jamin? If she wanted him, and he wanted her, who could come between them? Jamin hadn't rejected her, he'd said so. He only wanted everything to be perfect for them, and she understood that. She knew he wanted her as badly as she wanted him.

Lighting the cigarette, she dragged the smoke deep into her lungs. She had to admire him for his presence of mind. It had taken some power of his convictions to turn away, when they had both already passed the point of no return. Blowing a smoke ring at the dark ceiling, she had to admire Jamin's strength, although her body still hummed with her need for him.

He was going to see the reverend in the morning. All she could do was hope and pray he'd agree to marry them, and very soon. If he could, she'd put the feelings of it never happening in her pocket and forget about it.

Settling her head more comfortable against the pillows, she prepared to dream of her man. Jamin was the most beautiful man, with the strong muscles of a man familiar with daily physical labor, yet his skin was smooth, glowing caramel. Wide shoulders tapered down his torso to a washboard abs and narrow, powerful hips.

She had to be patient, because didn't good things come to those who waited? But it didn't help her now, because sleep evaded her.

Swinging her legs to the floor, she wrung her hands as she paced in front of the window, trying to recall the dream that had woken her earlier. It was already fading, no matter how hard she tried to keep the images behind her eyelids clear. Unexpectedly, sadness washed over her, so intense it obliterated the blurry face from her mind.

It was no use. She didn't want to remember any more, but she knew she wasn't going to be given a choice, just as she knew remembering was going to be painful.

Shivering with cold and apprehension, she scrambled back into bed. The window rattled in a sudden gust of wind. Rain was still falling on the roof, but the thunder and lightning wasn't as fierce as it had been.

How did she get here? If she could remember that, the rest would follow. But more importantly, did she want to go back to where she'd come from? Would she ever see Jamin again if she did? Jamin was safety in a world of confusion. She couldn't bear to lose him.

Sitting up against the headboard, the duvet pulled up to her chin, she gnawed at her lip. She had to prepare herself for the memories, because there was no way for her to block them.

Too restless to be inactive, she flung the duvet off for the third time that night, and got up to pace. Without thinking, she sat on the stool by the dressing table, took paper out of the bottom drawer, and found the stub of a pencil.

Day was breaking over the mountains, the first light creeping around the curtains, when there was a tap at the door. Daisy didn't look up, her head bent low, her hair tumbling around her face, her tongue caught between her teeth. When she felt Jamin sit down beside her on the stool, relief washed through her.

She could stop remembering now.

He sucked his breath in sharply, startling her, and she glanced up at him.

"It's all right, my love, it's only me," he said gently, draping his arm around her shoulders. He brushed her hair off her face with the tips of his fingers before he kissed her. "Did you sleep all right, baby?"

She shook her head. "I had a nightmare, and couldn't get back to sleep. You?" Studying his drawn face, she took in the muscle jumping in his cheek, as if he were grinding his teeth. In the early morning light, his eyes were soft pools of honey ringed by shadows.

"No, I didn't sleep at all. I was worried about you, about the future, about your past." He wrapped both arms around her, sharing his warmth with her. Daisy rested her cheek against his bare chest, dragging his fragrance deeply into herself. "I want time to speed up until you're my wife and I can hold you in my arms forever, when nothing and no one will stop me loving you as I desperately want to. We've wasted a lot of time."

He was wearing the same jeans he had last night, but his flannel shirt was still somewhere on the floor. He looked all too delectable for her low levels of control this morning. Planting a kiss on his chest, she lifted her eyes to his. "I know what you mean. How long do you think it will be?"

"I'm hoping for a couple of weeks at most, if only the reverend is willing. I'll make sure he understands our desperation." He smiled at her, then looked down at what she'd been doing. "This is beautiful," he said, picking up the sheet of paper. "I didn't know you could draw. Who is this?" Pulling the curtains wide brightened the room considerably. A little girl's dark eyes stared back at him. "What color are her eyes meant to be?"

"Blue," Daisy said quietly.

Jamin smiled. "She's beautiful. Who is she?"

"I don't know who she is, but she looks a bit like the little girl I see now and then." She pushed out of his arms to stare out the window, her hands clasped in front of her. "I think she was part of my nightmare. I'm not sure. I sat down and this was what I drew. Do you recognize her?" she asked hopefully. If the child was familiar to Jamin, she could not be from Daisy's past.

Jamin pulled her between his legs, wrapping his arms around her waist as he resting his cheek between her breasts. He studied the drawing on the table, then shook his head. "No, but you have a talent for this." This morning nothing seemed to faze him. Daisy grinned, his positive mood rubbing off on her.

"You have another talent I can't wait to explore," he said as he stood and closed his mouth over hers. He kissed her deeply and long. When he eventually lifted his head, he said, "I'd better find my shirt and get out of here before Marigold sends out a search party for us."

Shrugging it on, he stopped before he opened the door. "Daisy, I promise you I'll never turn away from you again. Whatever the reverend decides, you will be mine."

You can't change the past, but you can decide which bits to remember

Anonymous

SATURDAY, 14 NOVEMBER

Strong in me doth passion burn

Bliss is what my soul doth yearn

Candle take this wish of mine

Blessed above, from the divine

Soraya

The blue light of daybreak was just beginning to lift the gloom in the room, yet Jess was already bathed and dressed, her face shining without makeup. She had to finger-comb her hair, leaving it fluffy and wild, framing her face. When she pulled the drapes aside, she was greeted by a breathtaking sight. The mountains, a deep, crisp blue in the early light, looked almost close enough to touch.

But she was exhausted. If that was what Friday the thirteenth was like, she'd avoid the next one by spending the day in bed with a book and her phone switched off. Yet she knew there had to be a perfectly logical explanation for everything that happened, and she was going to find it before she left this strange house. If she didn't, she'd be wondering about it forever.

The memory of what she had done with Ben sent delicious tingles all over her body. She was rubbing cream into her face when the floorboards in the hallway creaked. Tired from lack of sleep and fed up with the pseudo-ghostiness someone was working hard to establish around here, Jess wasn't in the mood for an encounter of any sort.

Snatching the door open, she was prepared to have it out with whoever was creeping around this time. Ben stood in the hall outside her door, dressed and clean-shaven, even wearing a shirt, although his feet were predictably bare. He frowned at her with fists planted on his hips.

Images of his hard body moving on her own, pressing her into the cushions of the window seat, flooded her mind. Her cheeks grew warm, which irritated her more than the early morning did. For once, could she skip the blushing thing? But he did look rather yummy this morning.

"What do you want?"

"And a very good morning to you, too, sweets. I was going to suggest a cup of coffee, but I didn't want to wake you if you were still asleep. You're not a morning person, are you?"

His thoughtfulness deflated her moodiness, and she made an effort to be pleasant. "No, I'm not. Coffee sounds good." She pulled the bedroom door closed behind her when he took her arm.

"Jessica, about last night. I feel as if I took advantage of the situation. Did I?" He seemed unsure of himself as he walked her to the stairs.

"No. What makes you think that?"

"You said I'd hate myself in the morning."

Her heart dropped like a stone. Here was the crux of the matter.

He didn't explain further, just stood there looking at her with those moss-green eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching. "You were wrong. I don't hate myself."

She grinned, even though her cheeks burned. "For once, I'm glad to be wrong. You were wonderful."

"Was I?"

"In a hurry, but the perfect gentleman."

"I'm a bit embarrassed by my loss of control."

"Don't be. It was very intense. You needed it."

He rubbed his fingers through his hair, tousling it more than it already was. "I did, didn't I? I'll make it up to you somehow, Jessica. Are you beginning to understand why I wanted an older woman for the nanny job?"

"No, I remember you saying you don't want another old woman, that you wanted me. Are you going to deny your pillow talk now that it's morning?"

Chuckling, he pulled her into his arms. "No, I'm not denying anything. I'm glad you're here. I feel very good this morning. Only thing is, would you mind if we keep what we did under our hats? It doesn't change anything, anyway. As soon as my sisters-in-law are gone, you're free to go."

Jess' smile evaporated. When she opened her mouth, Ben put a finger across her lips. "Let's not complicate matters more than they already are. If it hadn't been for that whiskey, nothing would have happened between us, no matter how strongly I might be attracted to you. When this is over, I will let you go. Please, let it rest, okay?" His hand slipped down her arm until he folded her hand in his. "The timing is way off."

Shaking his finger from her mouth, Jess said with a touch of impatience, "When do you reckon will be a good time for you to start living again?"

"Not when my sisters-in-law are descending on me one by one. Just forget what happened. It won't again, so don't romanticize what we did."

Furious, Jess locked her jaw. He wouldn't hear another peep from her on the subject unless he brought it up, but her feelings were her feelings, and she, unlike him, wouldn't deny them. Nothing is over until the end, and a lot could still happen. She decided not to take offence, either, for the simple reason she didn't have the energy for it this morning.

And it felt good to have her hand wrapped in his.

Ben brushed his other hand through his hair. "I don't know about you, but I feel unfairly drawn to you."

"Unfairly?"

"Yes, unfairly, as if I'm being urged toward you with a knee in the small of my back."

"Sounds painful, but it could merely be a very strong, natural attraction. Have you thought of that?"

"Could be, but either way—"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I said you'd hate yourself in the morning. Seems I was right, after all." Regardless of what he thought this morning, a man wasn't meant to be celibate. It was bad for his health.

Ben lifted a brow at her, but said nothing.

As they rounded the corner to start down the stairs, Jess thought she heard a soft click behind them, but when she turned her head to look, the passage was empty, and all the doors were firmly closed. Regardless of the bright new day, her imagination was clearly still in overdrive.

The chandelier sat drunkenly on the floor in the hall. Tools had been set out for the repair, although there was no sign of Jan. They passed through the hall without comment. The kitchen smelled of coffee, rich and aromatic. Amber was already at the table, a bowl of porridge in front of her, her legs swinging under her chair.

Ben let go of Jess' hand and shuffled away, but Ethel saw the move. The woman knew too much.

"Morning, pumpkin," Ben said, kissing his child's hair. Amber tossed her head.

Jess patted her hand where it rested on the table. "Morning." Amber jerked her hand away and dropped her eyes to the porridge in front of her. Jess leaned closer to ask conspiratorially, "Did you have sweet dreams, honey?" Amber ignored her, but she didn't pull her head away fast enough to avoid Jess stroking her blonde curls. Smiling, Jess slipped into a chair.

She was barely seated when the child suddenly declared to the rhythm of her spoon banging on the table, "I have two mommies now."

Ethel lifted her brow at Ben as she put two steaming mugs on the table. "Did you dream that, honey? That's nice. How's your arm?" she asked Ben. "By the looks of it, the bandage needs changing. You should try to keep it still." She took the spoon out of Amber's hand and put it in the bowl without breaking her stride.

Ben glanced at Jess. "That's easier said than done." One finger lightly stroked her wrist where it rested on the table. He seemed to have a need for constant physical contact, regardless of what he said.

She pulled her arm out of his reach and clasped her hands in her lap, flushing furiously. Jeez, did he have to be so obvious? Only moments before, he'd suggested they not broadcast the change in their status. Didn't Ethel count? Turning to look out the window, she could only hope the housekeeper didn't notice her flushing cheeks.

It promised to be a beautiful, clear day after the storm. She would have loved to explore, but she doubted there would be time for that. The coffee burned her tongue when she took a sip. Taking smaller sips between blowing on the surface, she listened to Ben's monologue on his plans for the day with his daughter. Amber ignored him.

Pushing her cup away, Jess stood when Ben did. "I'll go finish my packing so I can call a cab the moment Millicent and her sisters leave."

He caught her arm as she passed him. "Jessica, I—" Ben started, his breath warming her cheek, but she cut him off.

"There's no need to say anything, Dr. Arnold. You stated your case quite eloquently. No hard feelings. Now all that remains for me to do, is to go home to where I belong." She wanted to cry, but when she glanced at Amber, her breath caught in her throat.

The blue eyes were fixed on her with such intensity, Jess shivered.

Spinning on her heel, she fled through the swing door, leaving Ben and Ethel to stare after her. Intermittently through the undulating door, she heard Ethel say, "Ben, you have to stop her."

Ethel would have done well to save her breath, because he wasn't about to be sidetracked. To him, she'd been no more than a whiskey-induced indulgence, and it hurt to know how easily he'd let her go after the pleasure they'd shared. But, it was no use crying over what was done.

Now that she'd accepted the inevitable, she couldn't wait to be gone from this strange place, and especially from Ben, before her emotions got entangled any deeper.

Jan came through the front door with a stepladder balanced on his shoulder when Jess crossed the hall to the stairs. Millicent's voice drifted from the lounge. Jess paused on the bottom step to listen, but the words were unclear. Who was she talking to? If she hung around long enough, she might find out and get the drift of the conversation. It would distract her, and perhaps ease the disappointment she was feeling, to try and find out what Millicent was up to.

Jess looked up at the ceiling. It was very high, domed, with skylights all around. Propping the ladder against the wall, Jan started putting tools into the leather belt around his waist. "Are you going to fix the chandelier all by yourself?"

"Of course. Nothing to it," he said. His eyes were on the ceiling as he started extending the ladder. "It's not the first time this little lady's come down."

Starting up the stairs, she watched Jan while straining her ears to hear anything from the lounge. "Oh? What happened before?"

"Didn't like who was standing under her, I suppose." Jan chuckled. "Has a will of her own, she does. But this time she's not going to come loose again. I'm going to spoil her fun good and proper." He held up a few enormous bolts for Jess to see before stuffing them into the tool belt.

"That's very dangerous. What if the chandelier fell on someone? Look at Ben's arm, and he only got grazed. This whole house needs a major maintenance overhaul, and a jolly good paint job, too."

"Oh, she doesn't like to be faffed with. Sheds paint like a duck does water from its feathers." He started up the ladder, the end of a coil of rope attached to his wrist.

Jess frowned. What a strange thing to say, as if Jan believed the house to have a life of its own. She took a better look at the old man. He didn't seem to have a few marbles missing. "What do you mean?" She glanced in the direction of the lounge. She couldn't hear Millicent anymore.

Jan was nearly level with her now, flicking the rope to uncoil it before he continued up the ladder. "Just what I said. You can paint a wall now, and when you come back after your tea, it's as if you hadn't bothered. Same with fixing things." He paused again to flick the rope. "Stays fixed for a bit and then, for no reason, it's broken again."

Giving up on trying to eavesdrop on Millicent, Jess paced her ascent to Jan's progress up the ladder. What nonsense. He is probably not doing a very good fixing job.

If her opinion was asked, she'd say this was a very dangerous house, with only someone as old as Jan maintaining it. The thatched roof was a fire hazard, for a start. With all the lightning going on last night, it was a miracle it was still standing.

When she reached the top of the stairs, she paused when a thought struck her. "Jan, when was the last time you had to fix the chandelier?"

Jan was level with her, his eyes on the floor far below him.

"Let me see. That would have been the day of Miss Roxanne's wedding to Mr. Ben. Quite a mess it made that time, too. It held well since then."

Ben's and Roxanne's wedding day, eight years ago. Jess gnawed at her bottom lip. That might be significant, but why had it fallen again now? Was there a link between the two events? Could the link be Millicent? She'd been present on both occasions, the wedding and last night. But how could her mere presence cause the chandelier to fall from the ceiling?

She'd have to work it out later, because she had packing to do. And maybe Ben could shed some light on the subject.

"You be careful, okay?" She watched a moment longer as Jan started hoisting the chandelier off the floor. It spun at the end of the rope, inching its way up. It had to weigh a ton, with the filigree ironwork and all the crystals reattached to it. This was too hard a job for someone of Jan's age to do without help.

Oh well, not my circus, not my monkeys.

She wouldn't be here long enough to do anything about that, either. Glancing at the spot where she'd seen the shadow last night, she wondered if Jan found out what that had been all about.

Also none of her business.

Millicent stood in the doorway to the lounge, watching her, phone in hand. When she turned away to pressed it to her ear, Jess worried her bottom lip.

Now was her chance. No one would be any the wiser if she took a quick peek in Millicent's room. She might even find out what the woman was up to.

All the doors upstairs were still closed. She turned the handle on the door directly opposite the nanny's. Somehow it seemed logical that it would be Millicent's room.

The door swung open without a sound.

Even though the drapes were partly open, it was gloomy in the room, but she could see only one side of the bed had been used. Was it safe to assume the psychic hadn't shared Millicent's bed last night?

Apart from the rumpled bed, the room was meticulously neat. Nothing seemed to be out of place. How odd? No brushes on the dresser, no discarded night clothes or slippers, nothing to indicate the room was even occupied.

A draft from the open door stirred the drapes, drawing Jess' attention to the dresser in front of the window. Things had been arranged on top of it between the stubs of burned-out candles. Molten wax had run all over the surface, trapping glittering objects in the wax. Jess tried to focus on it, but she couldn't see what the items were from her position by the door, and she didn't want to risk venturing closer.

Various colored stones were stuck in the wax, too, and there was a glass dish in the center of the mess, but she couldn't see what was inside, if anything at all. There were also a couple of copper dishes oddly spaced on the chest. A thick smell that wasn't entirely unpleasant hung in the room.

Jess quickly closed the door when she heard movement somewhere on the upper level. She could still hear Millicent downstairs, and she knew Ben was in the kitchen with Amber and Ethel, and Jan was fixing the chandelier.

Who could be prowling around now?

Oh. My. God.

"Come, breakfast time," Jamin said with a grin. "If I have my way, you're going to have a couple of busy weeks, and we can't have you fainting away from hunger." He pulled Daisy into his arms. His skin was hot under her palms, but he didn't do anything other than look down at her. Feeling as if she was drowning in honey, her breath hitched and she pressed her lips to his chest to hide it.

"Daisy, don't, I'm not strong enough, sweetheart," he said, lifting her chin until his lips were moments from hers. Her desire must have shown in her eyes, because he deftly set her away from him and turned to the door. Still buttoning his shirt, he said, "I'll see you in the kitchen," as he flung the bedroom door wide.

Daisy saw Marigold over his shoulder, and her heart plummeted, knowing she was going to jump to the wrong conclusions. Quickly pushing her arms into the sleeves of her dressing gown, she followed Jamin from the room.

And she was right, because Marigold's jaw dropped when she saw the two of them coming out of the bedroom together.

Jamin stopped in the middle of the kitchen where Daisy caught up with him. He draped his arm around her shoulders, grinning like an idiot. She elbowed him in the ribs. Still grinning, he rubbed his abused bones.

"Not a word, Marigold. It's not what you think."

Marigold planted her fists on her hips and glared at the two of them. "Oh? A man still buttoning his shirt coming out of a bedroom with a woman in a robe before the sun is even up properly, and it isn't what I think? You tell me, what is it, then?"

Jamin smoothed his hand down the back of Daisy's hair as he pulled her close, nuzzling her hair. "Not what you think."

Did he regret what hadn't happened?

But Marigold persisted. "But...what if she got pregnant? Have you thought of that? How could you, brother? She's white."

"Oi, I'm right here!" Daisy snapped, stepping away from Jamin.

Marigold sank into the nearest chair and gripped her head in her hands, keening softly to herself.

"Marigold," Jamin said, his eyes still on Daisy. "Not that it is any of your business, but we didn't do anything that could get Daisy pregnant." He glared at his sister rocking herself. "I will be the proudest man on earth when Daisy is carrying my child. But she's right, don't talk about her as if she isn't here." He clamped his teeth together. "With all due respect, Marigold, butt out. I will tell you something, just to put your mind at ease. I proposed to Daisy last night." He pulled her back into his arms and met his sister's eyes over her head. "She said yes. We're getting married as soon as we can arrange it. I'm going to speak to the reverend this morning. If he can't, or won't, marry us, we'll live together in sin as man and wife."

"But what if Daisy remembers her past?"

"Humbug, Marigold. Whatever is in Daisy's past, will stay in the past. We're starting a brand new life together. Not another word now. Can't you just be happy for us?"

"You're forgetting the law, Jamin. You can't marry Daisy, unless you want to go to jail."

He sighed from the depth of his soul and kissed the top of Daisy's head. "How about putting your own clothes on, Daisy? We might as well see if Marigold's theory works. See you on the veranda. Don't take too long."

Daisy had a quick wash in cold water. Back in her room, she dressed in the clothes Marigold had given her last night, and studied herself in the mirror while she pulled the brush through her long hair. She looked and felt different in these clothes, the bright red bringing out a luminescence to her skin. The clothes felt good, too, familiar even.

When her hair cascaded in a shiny mass down her back, Daisy sniffed the collar as she straightened it. There was an elusive scent of lilies on the fabric, her fragrance that laundering hadn't removed. The shoes felt awkward, though. She wasn't used to heels.

Back in the kitchen, she stopped by the table to stare at the burned out candle in the brass holder. Her brow furrowed when she saw the pendant Jamin had given her in the middle of the mess. Picking it up, she slipped the chain over her head. The disk settled comfortingly between her breasts, a smile curving her lips as she lightly touched the disk with the tips of her fingers. Jamin must have been told the truth about the pendant, because her heart filled with hope and happiness.

It didn't last long before a frown pulled her brows together. The nagging feeling that she should remember something just below the surface of her consciousness, still plagued her, yet she couldn't get her mind around the memory. She picked up the pink and the bluish stones off the table, one in each hand, and wrapped her fingers around them. Questions she had no answers for tumbled unchecked around in her mind. A deep breath helped, then she shook her head. She was out of practice remembering things.

The burned out candle blurred before her eyes, but she resisted. She didn't want to remember anything. The past should just let her be.

Marigold moved the kettle onto the hot part of the coal stove behind her, startling Daisy back to the present. "I should have cleared the mess away last night," she said as she reached for the candle holder.

"No, please, leave it for now." Daisy put the stones back where she'd found them. The hope she'd felt a few minutes ago, when she'd put the necklace on, returned and the confusing thoughts faded away. Touching the stones again with her fingertips, the feelings and thoughts reversed. Daisy jerked her hands away and clutched them to her chest. "Marigold!"

Marigold nearly dropped the cups she'd taken out of the cupboard. "Daisy? What is it?"

"Marigold, come quickly!"

Marigold took her elbow. "What is it?"

"I think there's something wrong with these stones. When I touch them, my head fills with all sorts of disturbing images and thoughts. What are they?"

"That one is rose quartz and this one, amethyst," Marigold said as she pointed them out. "It's the amethyst that makes you see things. It seems to resonate very strongly with you. Keep it in your pocket if it is bringing things back to you."

Daisy moved away from the table. "No, I don't want to remember anything." Turning on her heel, she made for the door, subject closed. She didn't have space in her life for an unwanted other life.

The hope was back, and she wanted to keep it that way. She felt safe here with Jamin, well loved. All she wanted, was to marry him and have lots of lovely babies. She didn't want to be bothered by ghosts.

If the people in her old life hadn't found her by now, they clearly didn't want to.

"You know a lot about this stuff, Marigold?" she asked with her hand on the door, pointing at the table.

"Yes, I do."

"Will you teach me?"

"Of course I will."

Smiling, Daisy pushed the screen door open. Jamin balanced his chair on its back legs, his feet on the railing. As always, in moments like this, it was as if she was seeing him for the first time. Her breath caught in her throat. He was a magnificent man, beautiful and strong and dependable. She wanted to stay here with him forever.

The only memory she wanted was the way Jamin had looked last night in her room, gloriously naked, his body perfect, his dusky skin gleaming in the light of the single candle. He loved her and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. A thrill coursed through her body and settled below her belly button. She wanted that, too. He'd promised never to turn away from her again.

Just then, before her wayward daydreaming got her too hot and bothered, he noticed her hovering by the door. Allowing the chair to drop with a thud, he got to his feet. "Don't you just look a picture," he declared, turning her in a circle by the hand.

She looked down at herself, smoothing the red shirt-dress over her tight black pants and adjusted the collar as she sat opposite him, taking a cigarette out of his pack.

"You were telling the truth last night, about being used to wearing trousers. It suits you. You don't look mannish at all. In fact, you look amazing." He lit her cigarette before he took his own seat again. "Let's hope your own things don't bring you uncomfortable memories, but remember, whatever pops up belongs in the past." Their eyes met and held. His voice had gone husky when he asked, "Do you want me to get you anything from town?"

She shook her head. "Only cigarettes, please." She had everything else she needed right here. The only thing she wanted, he needn't bring her from town. It was already here, wherever he was—his love.

"Breakfast, you two," Marigold said, poking her head out the door. "Daisy!"

Startled, Daisy flung her half-smoked cigarette into the garden and grinned guiltily.

Jamin chuckled. "When we're married, you have my permission to tell my adoring sister to mind her own business. She means well, you know that, don't you?"

Daisy nodded as she grinned back at him. What a lovely thought, though, telling Marigold off. Nurse Bossy would be quite put out, no mistake about that.

"Come, Mari has spoken," he said, pulling her to her feet. "Never mind the penny, I'll pay a whole pound for that thought."

Giggling, she shook her head. "It's worth far more than a pound, so I'll keep it to myself, thank you very much."

He caught both her hands to his chest. "You drive a hard bargain, my girl, but have it your way. It's good to hear you laugh."

Her laughter dried up. "What if we don't like my memories?"

Jamin planted a kiss on her forehead. "We'll deal with them one at a time, and then shelve them, okay? Just relax and see what pops up. Promise me one thing, though. Whatever you remember, I want to know. We can decide together what's important and what not, okay? Will that make remembering better for you?"

"Yes, it will, thank you, Jamin. I just don't want to find a man in my past."

"Me, neither."

Daisy pressed her palm to his chest when he would have turned for the door. "Tell me something, Jamin. How did I get here? Where did I come from?"

His teeth flashed. "You're a bit old for a question like that, don't you think?"

She swatted his arm. "Jamin! I'm serious. Tell me about the day you found me."

He let go of her hands. "I have been expecting that question. But we're taking a risk. Mari is making breakfast, and she doesn't like her food going cold." Daisy merely looked up at him. "I'm not going to get out of it, am I?" She shook her head. Jamin sighed and rubbed his chin. "I didn't actually want to tell you this."

"Why? Was it bad?"

"I'd think being thought a drunken vagrant a bad thing for a nice girl like you."

"You thought that of me? Why?" He rolled his eyes to the corrugated tin roof. She pinched his ribs. "Don't even think about it. The whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Start from the very beginning, and leave nothing out. I need to know this at least."

His chuckle sent shivers through her. "I'll say it again, you drive a hard bargain, my love. Don't say I didn't warn you." He blew his breath between his teeth. "You see, I was on my way to work, minding my own business, when suddenly there was this person in the road. Right in the middle of the road. And I was late as it was."

"As usual." Daisy giggled.

"Yes, as usual," Jamin agreed with a grin. "But the man blocked the road and I couldn't get past. I wasn't quite awake, it being before six in the morning, but it was just as well I slammed on the brakes. I might, for the same effort, have thought I was still dreaming."

"Breakfast," Marigold called from inside.

"We'll be there in a sec, sis," Jamin called back. "Where was I? Oh yes, the apparition in the road. So, I managed to stop in time and leaned on the horn, but the person kept right on walking down the middle of the road, as if there was no tomorrow. I sat there, trying to figure out what to do. One can't be too careful these days, you know. Homeless people have been known to wander into the valley from time to time, and they're not always peace-loving, if you know what I mean." Jamin rubbed his chin, slanting her a look.

"I didn't feel like an encounter before the sun was even up. So, I took a heavy wrench out of the toolbox behind the seat, just in case the dude got frisky, you understand, for self-protection." He brushed his hand over his short, black hair. "I only intended to help the poor lost soul to the side of the road, so I could get to work."

"Right, your food is going in the bin." Marigold sounded irritable now.

"Come, before we really have to go hungry," Jamin said, taking Daisy's hand and pulling her after him. "We can't do all we have to do today on an empty stomach. My sister has no mercy."

"Oh yes, she does!" Daisy defended. "And what do we have to do?"

He stopped and gripped her arm. "Oh, no, don't tell me! You changed your mind about marrying me. Oh, the pain is unbearable. I'll never survive."

"Fool," Daisy said, chuckling. "You're not that lucky. You're not getting out of finishing your story, either," she said at the same time as Marigold wanted to know, "What are you two talking about?"

Jamin seated Daisy in her usual place at the table, and kissed the top of her head. He grinned at his sister, shrugging as he continued with his tale after cramming a forkful of egg into his mouth.

"One never knows what another person is hiding, and this bloke was wearing the tattiest, dirtiest coat I've ever seen. It looked like it got a bit too close to a fire. Anyway, I wasn't going to take any chances. 'You there,' I called, but the person ignored me and carried on stumbling along. 'Are you drunk, man?' I shouted. 'Get out of the way.'"

He took a moment to butter a slice of bread. "I might as well have saved my breath, because the guy didn't react in the slightest, and kept on walking, straight down the middle of the road."

"Jamin," Marigold said, touching his arm. "Brother, you shouldn't."

"It can't do any harm, Mari. This isn't something Daisy is ever going to remember by herself. It's just a story."

Marigold pushed her empty plate away and crossed her arms on the table. "And you so love telling stories." Her chin disappeared into the folds of her neck.

"Oh, come on, Marigold," Daisy said. "I asked him to tell me about the day I came here. I didn't know he was going to make such a song and dance about it, but you have to admit, your brother has a way with words. I'm enjoying it. Go on, Jamin."

"You're forgetting to eat," Marigold scolded.

Daisy dutifully scooped some egg into her mouth and put a slice of bread on her plate.

"Well, if my sister would hold her peace, there I was, my only purpose to get to work on time." Marigold and Daisy sniggered. Jamin ignored them. "Having to fight for the right to use my own road, and I was having none of it. I had my weapon above my head, like so," he demonstrated with his fork. "But a little birdie on my shoulder said to try and help the person off the road before bashing his skull in. So, I reached my other hand, like this." Again he showed them how.

He laid his cutlery on the plate and crossed his arms on the table before he seriously met both women's eyes in turn. "Can you imagine my surprise when the person toppled over into the dirt by my feet?" He looked around the table. "That's when I realized—with difficulty, I must add—that it was...a woman." He nodded sagely.

"Why difficult, Jamin?" Daisy asked.

"Because she was so dirty. She was dressed in what looked like rags from some kennel, and her matted hair disappeared into the collar of the aforementioned tatty coat. And she looked like there was no flesh on her bones, like she'd walked for days. I felt terrible for having pushed her over. You girls know I don't go around treating women like that. And she'd been hurt. It did cross my mind that I might catch something." He rubbed his chin, one eyebrow raised.

"What were you scared of catching from me?" Daisy asked. "How did you know I was hurt from a glance? Did I get hurt in the fall?"

"No, but there was old, dried blood on your face, here." He traced a line down Daisy's pale temple before he cupped her cheek in his rough palm. "Do you remember that, Marigold?"

Jamin took Daisy's hand. "I asked if you'd been drinking, because when you looked up at me, your eyes were glazed. But drunk or sober, that was the moment I fell in love with you." She wrapped her other hand around his, and said nothing.

After a long moment of drowning in each other's eyes, Jamin said, "I didn't know what to do with you. I couldn't leave you there, so I brought you home to Mari."

"We cleaned you up and put you into Jamin's bed," Marigold said, picking up the story. "I fed you chicken soup for days. It was the only thing I could get down you as you seemed to have trouble swallowing. As Jamin said, you were very thin, and you slept most of the time. I couldn't find any injuries, apart from the knock you took on the head, so we kept you here. Strangest thing was that blood. You had a bump on your head, but your skin wasn't broken. You had no open wounds." It was like she was reminiscing to herself. "It must have been someone else's blood."

"Whose?"

Marigold shrugged.

"Was I drunk?"

"There wasn't a whiff of alcohol on you, but there was a heavy smell on that coat." Marigold frowned at her brother before she touched Daisy's arm across the table. "However it might have been, I'll tell you this, Daisy. From that day on, Jamin turned his life around. Now he comes straight home from work without visiting the local watering holes, like he used to."

"Since that day, I haven't touched a drop of alcohol."

"Did you used to drink a lot?" Daisy asked.

"A lot? I was an animal. Shows you what a good woman can do to a man. In a way, you saved me from myself."

"Oh, how unromantic," Daisy breathed.

Marigold pushed away from the table. "The dishes aren't going to do themselves. I'd rather be busy than watch you two making bedroom eyes at each other." She started clearing up around them, but Daisy was barely aware of her, a frown pulling her brows together.

Eventually, she met Jamin's steady gaze. "But how did I get here?"

"That we don't know. I was hoping, when your memory started coming back, you'd be able to fill in the blanks. The sequence of events leading to you ending up here could reveal a lot." He looked hopefully at her, but Daisy shook her head. She had no idea what had happened to her. That memory was probably gone for good.

Jamin looked at the clock, drawing Daisy's glance that way, too. It was nearly a quarter to eight. He took her hand, suddenly serious.

Daisy's mouth went dry. "What is it, Jamin?"

For a moment, he rested his forehead against their joined hands. "What if he won't marry us?" he asked quietly as he looked up at her. "If it is the only way we can be together, would you..."

Daisy smiled, touching his cheek with her fingertips. "Yes, of course I'll live with you. You already told Marigold that, and no one else needs to know. But you're getting nervous for nothing. I can't see any reason why the reverend won't marry us." She leaned closer to him, her eyes on the honeyed ones staring at her. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"No, that's okay. Reverend might not be able to see me today, anyway, it being Saturday. He might have stuff going on, weddings, funerals... I might have to make an appointment. Living in sin is not what I want for you, for us, but if there is no other way... And I'll tell the reverend so. We shall be together. Now I have to go. Wish me luck?"

"You don't need luck, Jamin, but I'm sending my love with you."

Jamin thumped his fist against his chest, leaned over to brush his lips over hers, and pushed away from the table. On the way to the door, he picked up his keys and cigarettes. "See you later, sis. Pray that I can convince him."

Daisy followed him out to the pickup truck. As he opened the door, Daisy stared at the vehicle, but before she could figure out what it was about the truck that suddenly struck her as odd, Jamin took her into his arms.

She smiled at him as she draped her arms around his neck. "What will be will be, Jamin. Don't stress it."

"Stress? What's that?"

"Worry. It means don't worry."

He kissed her briefly and then he was gone.

Daisy slowly went back to the veranda to watch Jamin's dust trail disappear. Marigold pushed through the kitchen door, wiping her hands on a tea towel.

"So, he's really going to the reverend?"

A tear rolled down Daisy's pale cheek as she nodded. Another followed.

"Oh, my poor brother," Marigold said.

Daisy turned to look at her. Marigold seemed to remember who she was speaking to and pulled Daisy into a hug.

"I really want to marry him."

"Poor you." Marigold stroked her hair.

"Yoo-hoo," reached them from a distance, and Marigold quickly released Daisy.

"Lettie. What does she want so early in the morning? Go inside, sweetheart, and wash your face. It isn't up to you or me to tell Lettie where Jamin went. When you feel calmer, come have tea with us." Her kindly smile brought more tears, but Daisy nodded and went into the house.

From her room, sitting on the edge of the bed with her hands tightly clasped in her lap, she heard Lettie arrive. "Jamin's truck is gone, thank goodness. I hoped he'd be out, because I want a word with Daisy." A chair scraped the floor in the kitchen. "Where is she? Or did she go with him?"

Daisy heard the kettle. "No, of course she didn't go with Jamin. She's in her room. What did you want to talk to her about?"

Jess had to get into her room.

Two steps took her to her door, but her wrist twisted painfully on the handle when the door didn't budge. The door wasn't locked, she never even saw a key on the other side.

Panicked, she rattled the handle, her heart in her throat, when a door farther down the gloomy hallway creaked open, and a very tall, thin figure appeared in a cloud of billowing smoke. Jess lost her breath, but she frantically tried to get the door to open.

She was scared to death.

And then she recognized Daemon coming down the passage to her. Her breath whooshed from her mouth as she relaxed.

Steam, you silly woman, not smoke.

As he came closer, leaving damp footprints on the floorboards, she saw he had a towel wrapped around his head turban-style, adding to his height, and another around his hips. He was real, a flesh and blood man. Jess could only stare at him, her eyelids fixed, her mouth parched. She'd forgotten him in her recounting of everyone's whereabouts.

"These old houses. They didn't treat the wood properly in the olden days. Can I help you to open the door?" he asked pleasantly.

She turned the handle, putting her shoulder into the shove, and flew into the room with her own momentum. Rubbing her abused shoulder, she smiled brightly. "No thanks, it was just sticking a bit."

She wanted to poke her finger into his eye for scaring her like that, although it wasn't his fault her imagination was galloping all over the place with her.

When he turned to Millicent's room, Jess turned away. So, was she to understand that Daemon, not Millicent, had slept in there? In that case, where was Millicent's room? Jess' lip was beginning to hurt from all the gnawing she did on it.

Lost in thought, she jumped when Daemon spoke behind her. "What happened in here?" he asked.

Jess groaned as she took in the state of the room. She'd left the bed neatly made—she'd braved returning the pillow and duvet—her case open at the foot of it to receive the last of her things. But now, the clothes she had dried and packed were scattered all over the place and the bedding in a pile on the floor, the mattress half on, half off the base.

She frowned at Daemon. Anyone could have done this, but everyone seemed to have been occupied somewhere else—except for him. He had ample opportunity to mess up the room, but why would he do such a childish thing? She suspected Millicent wanted her out of the way, but Ethel and, for the moment, Ben, didn't. About this strange man's position she was not at all sure.

Gritting her teeth, Jess said, "Please, excuse me, Daemon," and closed the door in his face. She'd apologize properly to him later. Now she had to tidy the room—again.

Half an hour later, order had been restored and her bag stood repacked at the foot of the bed. She caught sight of herself in the mirror. Without makeup on, she looked more like a schoolgirl than a grown woman, but there was nothing she could do about that until she got home. She'd have to go to the mall tomorrow to replace her makeup, and as she was there, she'd have her nails and hair done, too. Anything to divert her thoughts from Ben and Weltevreden.

She stared at her own image longer than necessary, and when she realized what she was doing, clicked her tongue as she turned away. What would she have done if the apparition appeared as it had last night in Roxanne's room?

Ghosts didn't walk when the sun was up, did they?

Or maybe they only appeared in that specific mirror in Roxanne's room.

Ignoring the goosebumps, she glanced about the room to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything, at the same time as she turned the door handle.

It didn't budge.

Using both hands, she yanked harder, but still it wouldn't open. It was as if the door had been glued shut.

The bathroom door was slightly ajar as she'd left it earlier. That was her way out. She'd go via the bathroom through Amber's room, but as she reached the door, it slammed in her face.

Jess jumped, literally jumped off the floor with fright.

Doors don't just close themselves.

This house did a good impression of having a life of its own, as Jan suggested, which was ridiculous. The sun was shining brightly on a brand new day. Fanciful ideas belonged in the dark of night and thunderstorms.

She was terrified, because she couldn't do anything to get out.

She was trapped in her room.

Then she smelled the lilies.

Daisy had to get out of the house. She didn't want to see Lettie, not now, maybe not ever, if she could avoid her that long. How was she supposed to keep mum about her and Jamin? Marigold was right, it was up to Jamin to tell Lettie.

Throwing the doll Marigold had given her, box and all, out the window, Daisy climbed out after it. Her hair fluttered in the breeze. It was lovely to be outside after yesterday's stormy weather, the air light and crisp. She breathed it in deeply.

Whatever happened, Jamin loved her and she loved him. If only he hadn't been so traditional last night—although she had to respect him for it—she could have belonged to him already and the wedding would only have been a mere formality.

She took the doll out of the box and, cradling it in the crook of her arm, started walking away from the house. Not wanting to risk being seen going around to the gate, she climbed over the fence. As an afterthought, she picked a white flower from Jamin's garden.

To keep you close to me. She grinned to herself as she sniffed the bloom.

Daisy set out on the path into the mountains, the doll in one arm, and Jamin's flower in the other hand, bringing it up to her nose often to inhale the heady scent.

She'd told Marigold yesterday that she was going to see the little girl today. Marigold would know where she'd gone. Her spirits were soaring and she was truly happy. Whatever the reverend said, Jamin was hers, just as she belonged to him in her heart.

My Jamin, my beautiful man.

Her breasts tightened when she remembered his hands on them, and butterflies danced in her belly. Tonight, maybe tonight, with the promise of the nuptials soon to be said, Jamin would claim her. Exciting thought. Vows in a church didn't mean much. She knew how to make Jamin happy and keep him happy. They didn't need a stranger to pronounce them man and wife.

Daydreaming about Jamin, Daisy hadn't noticed the path getting steeper until she had to use the shrubs and grasses beside the path to hoist herself along. She stopped to tuck the flower behind her ear, and the doll into her red shirt. The shirt tails tied in a knot secured the doll, leaving her hands free for the climb.

This was not the path she normally took. Where had she gone wrong? Would this steep mountain track lead her to the child? She didn't always get to see her, but she really wanted to find her today to give her the doll.

The path wound its way up into the mountains. At the summit, she climbed onto a rocky outcrop. The view from there nearly took her breath away. She felt as if she was on the top of the world, that she could see forever.

The fertile land stretched out below her as far as she could see. If she turned her head slightly, she could see their valley behind her in the distance. Jamin's house was no more than a speck in the expanse of vines.

That made her smile. Home, her home, hers and Jamin's.

The muscles in her legs shook with the exertion of the climb, and she sat down on the rock, trying to slow the beating of her heart, her eyes on the valley on the other side of the mountain.

The village of Wellington was barely visible in the distance through the wispy early morning clouds. Closer to the foot of the mountain, a road snaked up from the village, past a huge thatched house, to disappear into another valley. Vineyards ran from the outbuildings of the big house all the way to the river. She followed the course of the river with her eyes until it disappeared from her view.

Stretching her arms wide, she laughed. She wanted to hug the whole world, especially this beautiful corner of it, and hugged herself, instead.

The sun was warm, the breeze just cool enough to keep her from getting too hot, the birds singing in the trees all around her, all adding to her happiness.

At first she didn't notice the air rippling on her skin. When she did, she glanced around her, suddenly apprehensive.

This was a very lonely place to daydream in. Was there anyone out there? Did someone follow her?

Her ears started to buzz, making her feel slightly dizzy and off balance. Suddenly, the sun disappeared, taking the bright light with it. The darkness around her was complete—she could see nothing. She didn't understand what was happening to her, but it didn't scare her. Giving herself over to the sensations, she felt boneless, her body like gum oozing away into the dark, becoming part of the dark. The buzzing got louder, wind whipping her hair about her face. There was no air, yet she could breathe.

When colors—reds, greens, yellows—swirled around her, nudging her, she smiled, she couldn't help it. Something very strange was happening, yet she was truly happy.

Without warning, the wind, the rock under her, the swirling colors were all gone, and she found herself in a patch of sunshine. She had arrived. This was where she'd meant to be when she'd left the house.

Glancing about, she recognized the place where she'd seen the little girl before—the soft grass in the clearing, the river, the tumbled-down ruin of a building... And then she saw her, standing on a stone in the river, the water swirling around her little legs.

Gasping, Daisy rushed forward and grabbed the child's hand, intending to pull her to safety. The girl's eye snapped to her face, then she smiled when she recognized Daisy. Forgetting the doll tucked unto her blouse, Daisy smiled back as she bent to the child's level to coax her to the bank. The toy fell into the water with a splash. The little girl laughed.

Once she was safely on the bank, Daisy looked for the doll, but it was sinking fast. "Sit down here, sweetheart. I brought you something, but now it's in the water. Don't move until I'm back, okay?" she said. Then without another thought, she jumped into the river where the water ran smooth before tumbling over the stepping stones.

Searching underwater for the doll, she spotted it floating near the bottom. Sucking a deep breath into her lungs, she dove after it. In the clear water, she saw the doll drifting away with the current.

Her hand looked pale and insubstantial when she reached for it. Getting hold of a wooden foot, she reeled it in, and tucked the doll back into her blouse. With a good kick against the bottom, she propelled herself to the surface.

A huge gulp of much-needed air filled her lungs as she pulled herself onto the bank and collapsed on the soft grass in the shade of the magnolia tree the little girl was sitting under.

Pulling the child into her arms, she hugged her, laughter bubbling up her throat. "I'm so happy to see you, my love," she said. "Are you well? Have you been a good girl?" The gurgling of water over the row of stepping stones just below the surface provided soothing music to her ears.

The child's dress now bore the evidence of a sopping-wet hug, but she didn't seem to mind, nodding until her blonde hair tumbled forward over her shoulder. "A very good girl."

"Well, then, you deserve a present." Taking the doll out of her blouse, she squeezed as much water from the padded body as she could before handing it to the girl. "Sorry she's a bit wet, but she'll dry in no time. Do you like her?"

The little blonde head nodded enthusiastically, hugging the wet doll.

"This is such a beautiful place," Daisy mused as she glanced around the clearing, then contemplated the ruined building. "I wonder who could have been so lucky to live in this idyllic setting. Why would they have abandoned it? Don't you think it would have been nice to live in that house, sweetheart?"

The child looked where she pointed, but was too busy inspecting her new toy to respond. Daisy lifted her gaze across the river to the big house on the hill, a lush green paddock stretching from the river all the way to the outbuildings. The child was crooning to the doll.

"Do they let you come to the river on your own?"

"I'm not alone," the child said, hugging the doll again.

"Who is with you? I can't see anyone."

The child, toy and all, clambered onto her lap, one small arm going around her neck. "You're with me," she said, the trust in the blue eyes unmistakable.

"But I'm not always here..."

As if that was the signal, the edges of Daisy's vision started to blur. No! Not yet! I only just got here!

But there was barely time to kiss the little blonde head goodbye. As her bones melted and her body turned to bubblegum, she saw a woman making her way across the river, her face lined, her silvery hair caught in her neck behind her head.

Relief washed through Daisy. Whoever the woman was, the child wasn't left all alone in a potentially dangerous place.

Just as that realization dawned, a fierce wind snatched Daisy's breath away. The colorful kaleidoscope swirled around her, nudging her shoulders and arms. It was all very soothing, making her eyelids heavy, but a moment before she succumbed to sleep, the familiarity of the rock dug into the softness of her bottom. She had to shield her eyes against the bright sun, hot on her back. The chill of her wet clothes was taken care of before she had time to shiver.

"Jamin!" she called, even though she knew he couldn't be there. After seeing the child, her first thought was of the man she loved. She stretched her arms above her head, grinning to herself, happy in the thought she'd see him soon.

In the next moment, she jumped when a hand touched her shoulder. Her head whipped around, her body instantly ready for fight or flight. Her breath whooshed from her when she saw him.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," Jamin said, wrapping her in his arms as he sat down on the boulder beside her. "You were very deep in thought."

She leaned her head against his chest. "Hi," she said. He smelled nice, his distinctive Old Spice fragrance reserved for special occasions filling her head.

He lifted her chin with a finger until their eyes met. He lowered his head, his mouth opening over hers and he kissed her, long and leisurely. Waves of desire washed through her, her eyes closing as she gave herself to him. Everything she had was his, all that she was belonged to this man. And he was in no hurry, his tongue stroking hers, their breath mingling, as he accepted what she gave.

Nothing interrupted them pouring their souls into each other, no thoughts in their minds but the sensations they were sharing, nothing outside of themselves existed.

Daisy pressed to the hard wall of his chest until her breasts hurt, but the hammering of his heart soothed the pain. For them, the world stood still, the only natural conclusion the joining of their bodies as man and woman. She was ready, she wanted that, because she belonged to him already in her heart. All he needed to do was claim her.

"Baby, we have to stop before I lose control. I want you so badly," he groaned against her lips when he broke the kiss. Getting off the boulder, he took a few paces away, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Look what you do to me."

She grinned at the hard ridge of his passion straining against his jeans. "We're going to have to do something about that."

He chuckled. "Yes, and soon, but we need to talk first." His brows pulled together as he took her in. "Why are you wet?"

Looking confused, she laughed. "Oh, that. I jumped into the water to get the doll. Do we have to talk?" she said, but sat up straight and waited.

"What water?" Jamin asked, looking about.

"The river, Jamin."

"You mean the river down there? Did you go all the way down to the river? Why? How?"

Daisy paused. "I don't know, Jamin. There are so many images in my head that don't make sense... I saw the child..."

"For real, or did you dream of seeing her?" Hunkering down in front of her, he took both her hands.

"I don't know. This is so confusing. I must have seen her for real, because I don't have the doll anymore, and I am really wet."

He looked at her for a long time. "I think your memory is trying to break through."

"I don't want to remember anything. I'm scared of what I might remember."

"Come here." He stood up, pulling her into his arms. "Better? I don't want you to be scared. I will always be here for you." He gently brushed the damp strands of hair clinging to her cheek off her face. "Do you want to know what the reverend said?"

"Did you get to see him, then?" She pushed against his chest. "Is it good news?" she asked as he slipped her to her feet.

"We-ell," he said, rubbing his jaw. Daisy pinched the skin over his ribs. "Okay, okay," he chuckled. "It's good news. We spoke for a long time, about you, about us. He's a very easy man to talk to, fatherly like. He said we're doing the right thing to wait, to do it properly. He wants to meet you early next week, but basically he said he'd marry us, even if it is in a private ceremony, if the church won't sanction it."

"So, we're definitely getting married?" This was just the best thing he could have told her.

"Yes, my girl, you're going to be Mrs. Benjamin Meintjies." He swung her in a full circle. "I explained our living arrangements and he agreed it would be better to marry us sooner rather than later." He rubbed his chin, slanting her a glance from the corner of his eye. "Just in case I can't control my lust for you."

"Was he not concerned about my lust?" She giggled. Last night, it had been her soul in peril, Jamin's not so much. He was so much stronger than her at self-control.

He pulled her close and kissed her lightly on the mouth. "He was worried about both of us. As I said, he is very down to earth. He penciled us in for two weeks from today."

Daisy looked at him with a glitter in her blue eyes. "Jamin, that's wonderful. In only two weeks, you'll be Mr. Daisy Meintjies."

He hooted a laugh. "I'll be your Mr. Daisy Meintjies, and you'll be my Mrs. Jamin Meintjies." He hugged her hard. "I love you so much."

He bent, hooked his arm behind her knees and swung her up against his chest. In the shade of the trees beside the path, he lowered her to a patch of soft grass and sat next to her with his back against the bole of a tree. She crossed her legs and scooted closer until her knees touched his hip and ribs.

Closing her eyes when Jamin tucked her hair behind her ear, she leaned into his touch. "It's going to be a long two weeks," he said hoarsely. "I want you so much, but the reverend made me promise we'd behave until after the vows are spoken." He filled his hands with her breasts, grinning. "But he didn't say anything about canoodling."

Daisy caught his hand between hers. "I want a baby, Jamin." She blinked her eyes rapidly as tears gathered in them. Jamin lifted her into his lap.

"We'll have the most beautiful children, Daisy."

When he kissed her, time stood still for her. She was scared that, if they moved, everything would change. Why couldn't they be married today, right now? Once they were married, nothing would matter, not Lettie and her batting eyes, not her past, nothing. With Jamin's baby growing inside her, there'd be no question whom she belonged to.

It was a long time before Jamin lifted his head. Daisy leaned against his shoulder. "I wish we could stay here all afternoon, but we had better go." He lifted her to her feet and got up behind her. "Marigold will be worried if we don't show ourselves soon." He kissed her again.

"We'd better go, before I forget my good intentions and disappoint the reverend. And Marigold needs to hear the good news, so she can stop worrying about us." He rubbed his forehead against hers, hugging her to his chest. "And to keep us out of trouble. I don't know how I'm going to survive the next two weeks, wanting you as I do."

A sudden clap of thunder right above them reminded them where they were. Big drops of rain started to plop down all around them.

"Are we going to run for it?"

"No, it's too far. We'll be soaked long before we get home. Come here, we'll take shelter as best we can. The rain is going to make the path difficult." He stood against a tree and pulled her back against his front, wrapping both arms around her waist. "We'll have to wait it out."

She wanted to beg him to touch her, but he was determined to do this right. The two weeks would soon be over, she told herself. She contented herself with the closeness, her heart overflowing with happiness.

In true African fashion, the rain stopped as suddenly as it had started and the sun came out. It glinted on the raindrops on the grass blades and the leaves of the shrubs and trees. "Now we should get off this mountain, as quickly as possible," he said as he released her. Taking her hand, he started picking their way back to the path.

Everything was dripping and fresh. She didn't mind getting wet all over again. She loved the world. A few drops of water weren't going to kill her. She was still slightly damp, anyway.

They hadn't gone far when Daisy gasped, grabbing for Jamin's arm. He instantly spun around, but found her already on the ground, her eyes tightly screwed up, clutching her leg.

He fell to his knees beside her. "Daisy! Oh, God, are you hurt? What happened?"

"Ouch!" she complained, rubbing her knee. "I bumped my knee. It was so sore." She pulled up the leg of her black pants to inspect the damage. A bright red mark ran across her knee cap, but the skin wasn't broken.

She tentatively inspected her knee, prodding gently with her fingers. "Ouch. It hurts, but I don't think anything is broken."

Jamin took her knee in both hands for a closer look. "You won't be able to walk on this. My poor darling. Everything is so slippery after the rain. I'll carry you."

"It's too far and I'm too heavy."

He raised a brow at her, but the tweaking of the corner of his mouth gave his amusement away. "Are you doubting my strength, my soon-to-be-Mrs. Meintjies?"

"No, I just don't want you to get hurt as well, that's all. Your arm around me will be support enough."

"Okay, we'd better go before it starts raining again. We'll take it slowly until we're off the mountain and on the level."

Hoisting herself to one foot, she used the rock she'd bumped her knee against as leverage. Jamin held her arms to stabilize her, but when she tentatively put weight on her injured leg to test it, she quickly sat down on the rock as the knee gave way.

Breathing the pain out through her teeth, she dropped her eyes to the boulder she sat on. Up close, she could see the exact spot where her knee had come down on the rock. A tell-tale hollow not weathered like the rest of the rock's surface marked the spot. A piece must have broken off. That must be why she wasn't as badly injured as she could have been. The rock had given way, instead, as if to protect her. She searched the ground at the base of the boulder for the fragment, but it would have disappeared into the longer grass around the rock.

Pushing the wet grass aside, she immediately found the greenish-black fragment. One side was smooth, the other looked the same as the rock from which it came. The inside was slippery and cold. Turning it over in her fingers a few times, she pressed the smooth side to her knee.

She had no idea why she did that, but surprisingly, it eased her pain. Within seconds all the discomfort was gone. Looking up, she saw Jamin watching her closely. "Wow! What kind of stone is this? It sorted my knee out. It doesn't hurt at all now."

"I don't know, darling, you'll have to ask Marigold. I'm just glad you're not in pain anymore."

Smiling, she slipped the stone fragment into her pocket, took the hand Jamin held out to her and got to her feet. This time when she tested her weight on it, her injured knee was as strong as before the fall.

"I'm good to go," she said with a happy grin.

They set off, slower this time, with Jamin holding her tightly against his side. When they neared the valley floor, the roof of Jamin's house came into view.

"Home," she breathed, looking up at Jamin. "Our home." He stopped and turned her into his arms. "I'll be a good wife to you, Jamin," she said against his lips.

The bathroom door sprang ajar as it had been before, and her bedroom door banged against the wall. Jess quickly stepped into the hallway, where she turned with her hands on her head, to glare at the recalcitrant bedroom door. No one was going to believe her room had held her hostage for another episode of her visions.

The only evidence she had was the lingering smell of lilies, Daisy's fragrance, and she wasn't sure if anyone else would be able to smell it.

She didn't know if she wanted to share the unfolding story with anyone. The poignant love between Jamin and Daisy was touching her deeply, but there were so much against them. Jess wiped the moisture from her eyes, hoping that nothing would mar their wedding day. If at all possible, she wanted to witness the event.

As she stared back into the room from the safety of the passage, something above the window seat caught her eye. It was pinkish and fluffy-looking from where she stood, not matching the rest of the decor of the room, which was sedate beige, cream and brown. It hadn't been there before, had it? She took a step closer to the door, not brave enough to enter the room, in case it wouldn't allow her out again. Much as she wanted to know what happened to Jamin and Daisy next, she didn't want to be locked in the room to find out.

Whatever it was hanging above the windowseat, it looked very much like the thing Jan had wafted about last night. Did he have the temerity to put it in her room while she wasn't there? Why would he do that?

He'd said it was for protection. So, if he'd put the thing in her room, what did he think she needed protection from? He couldn't have known what had happened in the windowseat between her and Ben. The thought sent fresh shivers to shake her shoulders. Ben was right, she didn't want what they did to be common knowledge around here.

Dismissing the possibility of being shut in again, she climbed onto the window seat and pulled at the rounded bottom end of the dreamcatcher. It was held only by a thin ribbon tied to the curtain rail, and the bow came undone easily with only a gentle tug.

Someone—Millicent—going to a whole heap of trouble to scare her away seemed to be known by a few people around here, some of whom clearly wanting to protect Jess from the malice. That the woman had a hidden agenda and wouldn't allow anyone to stand in her way was more than clear, and Jess would do well to find out what that agenda was, for Ben's sake, and the sooner the better.

Something told her the answers to all the riddles were in Roxanne's room, and she had nothing against snooping around. How else could she get to the bottom of things? If she wanted to help Ben, she'd better girl-up, and get on with the task in hand.

Tiptoeing down the passage, the dreamcatcher in her hand, she paused before the door in question to glance about the deserted hallway. It wouldn't do for someone to see her while she did her snooping. Once she was sure she was unobserved, she turned the handle, and the door swung open without a sound. Hesitating on the threshold, she acknowledged the tiny hairs on her arms standing on end, but when something buzzed in her ears, she froze.

Not by choice, but she couldn't move to take the step needed to cross the threshold into Roxanne's room.

Something was going on here she couldn't fathom, something unseen that didn't want her entering Roxanne's room this time.

Still unable to move, she heard it—a deep-throated growl. The sheer volume of the sound flung her back against the wall. The dreamcatcher flew from her hand and rolled away from her when her knees buckled, and she slipped down the wall to the floor.

Her heart spasmed with fear.

There was something in that room that hadn't been there last night, a secret someone went to extreme lengths to protect.

She should ask Daemon to take a look. That seemed the best plan for the moment. He was the psychic, surely this wouldn't scare him.

Pushing herself up against the wall, she edged toward the stairs. Halfway down the passage, she picked up the dreamcatcher from the floor and clutched it to her chest—much good it had done to protect her, yet she drew comfort from it.

When she heard Roxanne's door click shut, she didn't dare glance over her shoulder at it.

In front of the door she assumed to be Daemon's, she hesitated only a moment before she knocked. "Daemon, are you in there?" Silence answered her. She knocked a bit louder, but there was no one in the room.

She ventured a glance at Roxanne's closed door. Either Millicent or Ethel—they'd both been wandering around in the dark—could have done something, after Jess' vision in the mirror, to keep anyone from entering the room again. She wasn't brave enough to test the theory on her own, but would come back later with Daemon. If he was what he claimed to be, he'd know how to deal with whatever was blocking the door.

She fled down the stairs. The hall was deserted, the tools and the ladder gone. Glancing up at the chandelier, now restored to its original place, she quickly passed under it. It seemed to be securely attached to the ceiling. All the same, she couldn't help feeling it coming undone last night had been intended for her.

Jess pushed the kitchen door open a fraction, instantly aware of an atmosphere similar to what she felt when she'd first entered Ben's house. It was like a heavy despair settling over her. Yet she rushed to where Ethel was cooking bacon on the stove.

"Ethel, what is this?" She held the feathered thing up for Ethel to see.

"A dreamcatcher."

"I know that. What was it doing in my room?" Jess knew her irritability was due to her fatigue. She had hardly slept, after all, and then only fitfully in the window seat.

"Catching you a dream, I'd imagine." Ethel smiled her toothy white smile, although Jess noticed that her eyes weren't twinkling like normal. In fact, she looked sad. "It worked, didn't it?"

Jess sighed. She wasn't going to get a straight answer out of Ethel. The old woman was too fond of her riddles to explain them. "Okay, can you tell me what is going on in Roxanne's room?" she asked. "Who is Daisy?"

Ethel turned around slowly until their eyes met. "We'll talk about that after breakfast," she said, then a bit louder, "Miss Jessica, this is Mr. Ben's other sister-in-law, Alison."

Only then did Jess notice the woman sitting at the table, watching her and Ethel with interest. She was the spitting image of Millicent, with a mass of white-blonde curls tumbling down her shoulders, and bright blue eyes, only she was a bit younger than Millicent. Her chin rested in her hand, her look of curiosity fixed on Jess' face.

Feeling foolish for the way she'd burst into the kitchen shooting off questions, Jess smiled as she nodded at the younger woman.

"Another one to interfere with the energies," Ethel muttered as she turned back to the stove. The way her mouth turned down at the corners was a dead giveaway—Ethel didn't like this Howard sister any better than she did Millicent.

Alison regarded Jess steadily, her large blue eyes wide with interest. Jess smiled at her. "I'm Jessica James. I'm pleased to meet you, Alison." But Alison ignored the hand Jess held out across the table.

"I was about to bring your breakfast upstairs," Ethel said.

"Thanks for the thought, Ethel, but I don't expect you to run after me with food. Did you sleep well?" she asked the stubborn back.

Ethel turned to her with a grin. "Yes, thank you for asking, dear. I did, very well indeed."

"Really?" Jess flushed to the roots of her hair. "I didn't get the impression you spent much time in your bed last night."

"I don't need a lot of sleep, and it was a rather busy night, and there was the storm." Her grin spread even wider, if that was at all possible. "We're not used to so many people under our roof."

"Why were you hovering outside my door in the middle of the night?" Jess persisted.

The smile dwindled as her forehead furrowed. "I had to be sure. A heavy weight has been lifted from my shoulders."

Ethel knew Ben had been in her room for more than a chat. He was right, Jess would hate for Millicent to know. Somehow it was okay for Ethel to be in on the secret, as she seemed to think herself the composer of their symphony, anyway.

"Do you and your husband always patrol the house, night and day?" Jess queried.

"Only when so much is at stake."

Alison's eyes were going back and forth between them. "What are you two on about?" she asked rudely. "How long is Ben going to be?"

"He'll be along any moment, Alison," Ethel said.

She'd barely finished speaking when the screen door opened and Ben came in from outside, his arm wrapped in a clean bandage.

"Alison," he said by way of greeting, and turned away to wash his hands at the sink. "I'm surprised you didn't show up yesterday with Millicent. Two down, one to go." He lifted a brow at the pile of luggage Jess hadn't noticed before beside the inner door. "Exactly how long were you planning on staying?"

"Indefinitely." The young woman got up to stand close to Ben, too close for this early in the morning. "At least until my sister is back. What happened to your arm?" she purred.

Oh, Lord, another agenda. Jess ground her teeth. A wave of jealousy blossomed in her chest. Ben was hers, even if he didn't know it yet, and this beautiful girl had better keep her mitts to herself.

Ben moved away from Alison to dry his hands on the cloth draped over Ethel's shoulder. "A little accident. Alison, you can't stay here." He tried to get past her, but Alison stood where she was, blocking his way. Ignoring her, he went the other way around.

His eyes on Jessica's, he took the chair next to hers. She smiled back at him with her eyes.

"Your car was collected earlier," he said in a low, intimate voice. "Apparently, it will take the best part of two weeks to be reupholstered. Let me know if you have to be somewhere, and we'll make a plan to get you there." His mouth curved up at the corners. She couldn't breathe.

Oh, God, Ben.

It was only when he turned away that it registered he'd made it sound as if she was going to be here for the next two weeks. What is it that you want, Ben? Jess wanted to ask him, but didn't. You are blowing hot one moment and cold the next. I don't have that problem, fortunately. I just want you.

Jess glanced at Ethel. A shiver ran down her spine when she remembered Ethel's prediction that she'd never leave Weltevreden.

Alison glared at her. "Hello, I'm still here. What's wrong with her car, and how did it become your problem, Ben?"

"The dogs had a bit of fun in it last night. Your sister can give you a ride back to Cape Town when she and her boyfriend leave."

"I'm not going anywhere. You know you need help with Amber. Where's my niece, anyway?"

"In the stables with Jan." To Jess, he said quietly, "Everything okay?" He didn't touch her, for which she was grateful. She wanted to tell him how she felt after what they'd done, but not with Alison glaring at them.

"Yes, fine, though I had a bit of a problem with my bedroom door sticking," she said softly around a shy smile. So, he was okay with having her around for the next two weeks? By the end of that time, he wouldn't know how to let her go. Two weeks was plenty of time for him to realize things had changed between them and that it was okay, more than okay.

"Every idiot knows wood expands in wet weather," Alison sneered. "Where do you fit in, anyway?"

Jess looked at Ben and allowed the corner of her mouth to curl up. If only he'd claim her, that would put an end to the sisters' agendas.

But before Ben could answer, the door swung inward and Millicent graced them with her presence. Predictably, the phone was pressed to her ear, but she ended the call when she stopped in the middle of the kitchen. Jess carefully watched Ben's reaction to the sight of her.

His Adam's apple moved up and down and his pupils dilated before he managed to drag his eyes away. Millicent was bothering him all over again this morning, whereas he must have gotten used to having her around last night, without going to pieces every time he looked at her. Was he reacting to the woman this morning because he felt guilty about last night?

When Millicent spoke, Ben's jaw tensed.

"I thought I recognized your voice, baby sister," she said to Alison. The siblings kissed the air around each other's ears.

Not a very affectionate family, Jess thought.

"You're here before me," Alison pouted.

"Yes, we arrived last night. Ethel, what did you want in my room?"

"We?" Alison frowned.

"Daemon and I. I know you were in there, so don't bother denying it. What did you want?"

"I never left the kitchen," Ethel declared as she turned away. "Nothing of yours holds any interest for me."

"Someone has been in my room." Millicent glared at Ethel's back and then frowned at Jess before she turned to her sister. "Let me warn you, he's not in the market." She squeezed into the chair by the wall.

"What would I want with your stupid boyfriend? I'm here for Ben."

"That's who I mean. You're too late if you intended to snag him. And Daemon isn't my boyfriend." She smiled sweetly at Ben and Jess. "Still enjoying the weekend? You know, I'm never wrong, and I figured you for a taker the moment I saw you last night." The hired help, she mouthed at Alison, jabbing a finger under her chin in Jess' direction. The sisters smiled knowingly. "If it wasn't Ethel, it must have been you," she said to Jess. "What did you take from my room? You might as well tell me, because I'll know soon enough."

Jess' jaw dropped. How could Millicent possibly know she'd looked into the room from the doorway? And it was Daemon's room, or did they share after all?

Ben squeezed her elbow gently. "Millicent, play nice." He kept his eyes on the younger sister. "Alison, Jessica is here for the position of Amber's nanny. You have to go back to Cape Town to finish that course of yours. There's nothing for you here. You'll be bored sick within a week, and I'm too busy to entertain you." He clasped his hands on the table before he said, "I suppose we can expect Moira any minute."

Ethel put a basket of toast on the table. "Sit yourself down, girl," she told Alison, who stood around as if she didn't know whether to kick her sister's shins or dash out the door. "You might as well have breakfast before you all get on your way."

Glaring at Jess, Alison sat down before she said, "I won't need to be entertained, Ben, and I don't want to finish that stupid course, not when you need me. I intend to help you until Roxy comes home."

"Oh, it's a stupid course now, is it? I thought it was the purpose of your existence to be a stylist. What changed?"

"They threw me out," Alison muttered.

"What?" Ben and Millicent exclaimed at the same time.

"You heard me. They say I'm unteachable, that I'm so fixated on my own weird ideas that nothing they try to teach me would ever make a difference. They said they're likely to get sued if they gave me a diploma." Tears stood in the blue eyes.

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm sorry," Ben said. "I know how important it was to you."

"You should have listened to me," Millicent scoffed. "Women don't want to be experimented on. They go to a salon to be improved. Your ideas are just too...strange. What are you going to do with yourself now?"

"I'm going to look after Ben and Amber," Alison declared, wiping her eyes with the heels of her hands, looking at her sibling. "Roxy will know what I should do next."

Ben dragged a noisy breath through his nose as Ethel placed his plate in front of him. Buttering a slice of toast, he said, "Alison, you're not staying here, and I don't want to hear another word about it."

"Don't 'Alison' me, Ben. You can't be alone with a difficult child. Nor do you need strangers in the house when I'm able and willing to help you until my sister is home." Her eyes flicked between Ethel and Jess.

"Alison, Millicent has been trying to convince me Roxanne might still be alive somewhere. She even brought a friend who is going to try to find her. So, if all goes according to plan, your sister might be home sooner than you think. I don't think your help will be needed much." He raised a brow at her.

Ethel stood by the stove, hand on hip, following the conversation without adding anything to it.

"As I have nowhere else to go, I'll wait right here for her, then." Alison's chin lifted defiantly. "As you say, it won't be for long."

"Are you sure Roxanne will want you underfoot?" Ethel asked, then continued to putter about the kitchen.

"Of course Roxy will want me here." She tucked into her breakfast with gusto, glaring her triumph across the table at Jess, pointedly ignoring her older sister. "Roxy wouldn't want you to bring an outsider as nanny into the house, Ben."

Harrumphing, Ethel shuffled out the back door.

Ben glanced at Jess. "Alison, I'm not going to discuss this with you. As I told your sister last night, it's none of your business whom I employ to take care of my daughter." He pushed away his empty plate as he stood up. "You had better hope Daemon finds Roxanne, and soon, because neither of you are staying here beyond the weekend. Now, you'll have to excuse me, I have work to do." He squeezed Jess' shoulder. "You and I will go buy Amber an ice cream later, and replace some of your things the dogs destroyed while we're at it."

Jess smiled up at him. Yes! Makeup!

"Stop trying to throw us out," Millicent jeered. "We'll go when we're good and ready."

Ben looked at her, grinding his teeth, if the play of muscles in his cheek was anything to go by. Jess saw the recognition in his eyes that this was not his adored wife, but only a painful reminder of her.

Before he reached the back door, Jan swung it open at the same time as the other door opened and Daemon peered into the kitchen. "Jan, what is it?" Ben asked the old man. "Where's Amber?"

Jan looked ready to burst into tears. "She was there one moment, helping me feed the animals, and when I looked again, she was gone."

"Oh my God!"

Ben ran out the door, and Jess, close on his heels, wasn't fast enough to miss Alison's snide remark. "For a nanny, you're pretty useless. Sitting in the kitchen with your betters while your charge is left in the care of an old man."

She didn't pause to defend herself.

"Millicent, you and Alison, check the house and garden," Ben ordered over his shoulder. "Ethel! Ethel!" he called, running for the outbuildings. "Amber likes the loft. I'll check there. You go around the back, Jess. Daemon, please check the troughs and the water tank." Ben already leapt up the ladder to the loft.

Jess rounded the corner to follow his instruction, but at a glance she knew the child wasn't there. The paddock stretched down a gentle slope to the river, the close-cropped grass a deep green in the morning light.

Amber might have wandered down to the river, though, and if she couldn't swim, the river could drag her under if she were to fall in. Her heart in her mouth, Jess sprinted down the paddock. From the corner of her eye she saw Ben, with Daemon barely a pace behind, running in the same direction.

They hadn't found the child. This suddenly became a much more serious situation.

Jess skidded to a halt on the river bank. It was flowing smoothly and serenely, eddies forming around the rocks, the only sound the whispers of the river and the birds in the trees.

Ben and Daemon moved toward Jess, scanning the water and the opposite bank. When they reached her, Jess said, "I can't see her. Could she have fallen in and been swept away?"

"Oh, God." Ben took off again, running along the river, scanning the water as he went. The dogs followed half-heartedly, sniffing around and whining as they looked at Ben's retreating back. It never occurred to her to be scared of the dogs. Her fear for Amber's safety overrode all else. She didn't even notice Daemon's dress flapping around his knees as he ran, except that he was more concerned than those sisters were, and them her aunts by blood.

Jess doubled over, her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. She glanced back up at the house. The paddock was empty except for Jan halfway down the slope, shading his eyes with his hands.

Millicent stood on the kitchen steps, one hand pressed to her ear. On the phone again, Jess presumed, at a time like this. It was too far to read her expression, but she was pretty sure she wouldn't find concern for the child on the beautiful features. The woman was unbelievable.

When Daemon ran past her a moment later, he hesitated, lifting a hand as if he'd touch her shoulder. Jess half-turned and he passed without comment.

Daemon claimed to be psychic. Then why couldn't he see where Amber was?

Dappled sunlight fell across Jess' face as she scanned the area on both sides of the river. The growth was so thick, Amber could be anywhere. The dogs sniffed around at the edge of the river, kicking up dirt now and then, whining when they looked across the river.

Daemon stopped in midstride, his head whipping around to the place that held the dogs' interest. Jess followed the path of his gaze, but from where she was, she couldn't see anything until she'd trotted to the very edge of the water.

Immediately, she had reason to revise her opinion of Daemon's abilities when the grass directly opposite parted in the breeze and she could make out the top of a little blonde head.

Amber sat in the long grass, her head bent as she crooned to herself. Jess glanced around for Ben. He was farther down river. "Ben," she hissed, flapping her hand to draw his attention without startling the child.

When he saw Jess waving, Ben quickly retraced his steps. "What is it? Did you find her?" He touched her back lightly. Jess pointed across the river at the barely visible blonde head.

"There she is. How do you think she got across the river?"

"Good God. Amber," he called. The child shook her head. "Stay right there, honey, Daddy's coming to get you." He glanced up and down the bank for a way to get across, and seeing none, waded into the river.

The water became deeper and deeper, his head disappearing under it. Jess held her breath until he broke the surface a moment later, and climbed the opposite bank a few meters farther downriver, shaking water from his hair. Drops arched through the air, glittering like jewels as they caught the morning sun.

How did Amber get to the other side? Ben was well over six foot tall and his head went way under the water. It would have been too deep for Amber to walk across. She was only knee-high to a grasshopper and weighed next to nothing. She would have been swept away long before she got even halfway across. There had to be a way to cross the river without having to swim for it.

Ben hunkered down beside Amber, talking so softly Jess couldn't make out what he was saying to his child. The dogs were quiet now, lying down on the bank, with Daemon on his knees rubbing their ears.

The surface of the water here was strangely smooth, but it was only when she got right to the water's edge that she saw the row of stepping stones below the water. It was strange that Ben didn't know about the stones. Had he never come down here in all the years he'd been living here?

Jess kicked off her loafers and skipped across the slippery stones to the opposite bank. Daemon followed more slowly, the dogs on his heels. They seemed quite familiar and at ease with the process. Once on the other side, they shook themselves ecstatically, sniffing around and lifting their legs against anything that came in handy.

It seemed that the dogs had known where Amber was and how to get to her all along, yet her father hadn't known about the river crossing.

Weird.

Amber sat on a patch of grass in the shade of a magnolia tree, a doll in her lap. Jess dropped to her knees beside Ben for a closer look and gasped before she could control her reaction.

It could almost be the exact same doll Jess had seen in her vision, the very same one Marigold had given Daisy.

A shiver shook Jessica's shoulders. Amber was singing a lullaby to the doll. She didn't look up or acknowledge her father or Jess.

"Amber, why did you wander off on your own? Daddy was worried." He got no answer.

Jess looked around. Behind the child was a lichen-covered stone. Farther back from the river was a ruin of some sort and signs of a once-flourishing garden.

Looking back across the river at Ben's house, she drank in the peaceful beauty of the setting. The house looked majestic, the thatched roof silhouetted against the clear blue sky.

Alison reached the river but didn't cross over, because Ethel stood on a stone in the middle of the river, barring the way.

Jess' jaw dropped. When had she gotten there?

Ethel just stood there, staring at the people on the other bank. Her hair was neatly pulled back as usual, her face passive, the bottom of her dress flowing with the current.

Daisy had been wet when Jamin found her on top of the mountain. She'd told him she had to jump into the river to get the doll out, and she didn't have the doll with her on their way home. How could she have seen Amber to give her the doll?

Reaching out a hand, she gently squeezed the doll's padding. Amber objected, shaking her head and turning away from the adults, but Jess had her answer. The doll was dripping wet. She pushed to her feet to study the clearing.

From what she'd seen, Daisy and Jamin and Marigold lived on the other side of the mountain. There was what looked like an overgrown footpath emerging from the slope. That had to be where Daisy came down the mountain to see the little girl. Did she use that path today?

Get a grip, Jess. This is so confusing.

Goosebumps covered her entire body, because there was Amber with the doll Marigold had given to Daisy.

She touched Ben's shoulder and jerked her chin in Ethel's direction. He glanced at the old woman before scanning the sky and turning his attention back to his daughter. He didn't seem to think Ethel's presence in the river significant.

"Where did you get the doll, sweetheart? Why are you here all alone? How did you get across the river by yourself?" Ben asked.

"Mama brought me," Amber said with a look that said Stupid. "It's nice here."

The child lifted those unfathomable eyes to Jess. She got the feeling she was expected to know something. But what?

Casting another look at Ethel, she turned to inspect the stone behind Amber. She had to pull the grass aside to see the inscription on it.

Here rests our beloved wife and mother, Lettie Meintjies b 1947 d 1983

The inscription was so badly weathered, Jess could just barely make it out. The name was nearly obliterated and even the dates she couldn't be absolutely sure about.

"It looks like this woman was thirty-six when she died. So young," she mumbled. And then she gasped.

Lettie? Lettie Meintjies? No, surely her eyes and the weathered stone were deceiving her. Jamin wouldn't have married Lettie, he'd been adamant about that. He was all set to marry Daisy. What happened? What went wrong? How could Jamin do that to Daisy?

She got to her feet when Ben lifted his child onto his shoulders and handed Jess the doll. Water dripped from it. Tears sprung to her eyes and she caught her lip between her teeth. It was Daisy's wet doll, there was no doubt about it.

She wanted to cry for Daisy and Jamin. They'd been so very much in love and the minister of their church had already agreed to marry them. What could have gone wrong? Did Daisy's past catch up with her?

"How did you get across the river, sweetheart?" Ben asked again. "You're not even wet."

"I walked on water. Dolly fell in the water. Mama got her out for me before the river took her."

Just like Daisy told Jamin!

No! It was impossible for Daisy to fish the doll out of the river fifty odd years ago and for Amber to play with that same wet doll now. If the dates on that headstone were to be believed, Daisy and Jamin and Lettie and Marigold all lived long ago.

If only she could talk to Ben about all of this.

So, who was Amber referring to as 'Mama'? Ethel, as she seemed to have done last night?

"Walked on water..." Ben mused.

She looked at him as he was studying the stepping stones and Ethel standing in the middle of the river. She could almost hear the wheels turning in his head.

"She crossed the stepping stones by herself. This is very dangerous for a child as young as Amber, Ben," Jess whispered. Especially a child like Amber. Children with autism lived in their own heads, and Amber could very well imagine herself able to walk on water. She must have imagined the helping hand of a mother who was just not there. What if she'd slipped and fallen in?

Ben seemed to be having problems with the 'mother' reference, too, for he asked, "Who was with you, baby?" Amber hauled up a shoulder.

Unless Ethel brought her down here and carried her across.

That would explain how Amber got to the other side of the river, but still didn't account for the doll being here. Ethel couldn't have fished the doll out of the water, because she wasn't wet. And if Daisy hadn't been here, where did the doll come from?

Amber could have found it in the ruin, but the doll was in mint condition. If the last occupant of the house had left it behind, it would have been weathered beyond redemption by now, just like the house itself. In the vision, Daisy had the doll, and now Amber has it. Somehow Daisy had given it to Amber.

But how?

It wasn't possible for Daisy and Amber to have been here at the same time.

Jess didn't know how to explain it. And until she figured it out, she'd keep it to herself. Ethel could explain a few things, Jess was sure, but would she, fond of secrets as she was? Damn, this was complicated. If she could convince Ethel to talk to her.

"Amber remembers coming to the river with Roxanne," Ben said. "Roxanne used to say the sound of the water soothed her."

Jess saw two more graves in the long grass. One headstone had collapsed facedown while the other was upright, but the writing was too badly weathered to read. Daemon knelt beside the stones, his hands on top of them, his hair fluttering around him obscuring his face.

"Roxanne found the pendant I gave you last night draped over one of these headstones," Ben told Daemon. "She attached meaning to it that I could never fathom."

Jess held her hair off her face to look around, and then at the doll dripping in her other hand. Did Daisy's pendant arrive here in the same way the doll did? Jess looked at Ethel. The old woman should come out of the water before she caught a chill.

If Ethel would only give her straight answers.

"What is this place?" she asked Ben, pointing. "It looks like a ruin of some sort."

"When Weltevreden was a thriving winery, the foreman and his family lived there, I believe. It was before my time."

Amber squirmed to be put on the ground until her father obliged.

"I'll show you, Jess," she piped up, gripping Jess' hand and pulling her to the ruined building. "Come see."

Her excitement was infectious. Turning her attention to the little girl happily dragging her along, Jess pushed aside the disturbing thoughts to analyze later. Amber was just a normal child again. Did Ben pick up on that?

Jessica didn't believe the diagnosis of autism anymore. Amber's unresponsive behavior could have been learned, or she could have been inadequately socialized. It was most strange. Jess had never seen such a case.

Jeez, there was a lot to take in and make sense of.

"Did Ethel bring you here, sweetie?" She asked, smiling down at the little girl.

Amber shook her head, "No, Mama did. Come, come, come!"

She allowed herself to be pulled along. When she glanced over her shoulder, Ethel was gone, but Ben stood where she'd left him, watching her with his child. She would have given anything to know what he was thinking. He was going to have to do something about those stones, immediately, and employ someone suitable to take care of Amber.

The moment Jess entered the old ruin, her hair frizzed and goosebumps broke out all over her.

"See, Jess, see?"

Jess couldn't see anything at all, but she nodded, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the gloom. When they did, all she saw was the inside of the ruined building. Part of the back wall had collapsed and taken the roof with it. Most of the plaster work had fallen off the walls over the years and the flooring was covered in mud. The place was certainly not habitable now. It smelled of decay.

Amber did a little pirouette with her arms in the air and scampered outside again, clearly pleased with herself. Jess grinned at the child's antics as she glanced about again.

It must have been wonderful living here, so close to the river, when this house was in its heyday. There must be lilies growing close by, because their scent challenged the decay and filled the air around her. That smell was fast becoming one of her favorites.

Jess gasped when it dawned on her what was happening. Another vision? Here, in the ruined house across the river, with Ben and Daemon right outside?

Daisy was certainly very persistent.

Jess wasn't scared of the visions anymore, but she was getting more and more confused by what Daisy was trying to tell her. Unable to move, the scene changed until she looked directly into Daisy's world.

Daisy was happy, so happy she thought she was going to explode, but it scared her a little, too. Was it possible to be too happy? But why shouldn't she be? Jamin loved her and they were going to be married. Two weeks was not such a long time, and then they had the rest of their lives to be together.

She glanced up at the man beside her, holding hands as they walked along the path to his house. Soon he'd share the room that used to be his with her. She grinned at the thought.

Jamin was smiling, too. He had a grass stem between his teeth, twirling it with his tongue. Daisy could imagine what his tongue was doing to it out of sight. Her breath hiked and something clenched somewhere deep inside her. It was going to be sweet, delicious torture spending two whole weeks anticipating their wedding night.

As they neared the house, Daisy looked up at him again. A frown pulled his dark brows together when he suddenly stopped. Daisy followed the path of his gaze.

A cloud of dust drifted slowly over the vineyards, the source coming steadily closer.

"A car is coming," Jamin said. "Who on earth—"

He hurried along the path, and Daisy had to run to keep up with him. They were still a long way from the house when she made out three black and white Valiant police vehicles. They skidded to a stop, the cloud of dust in the yard just visible through the trees from where they were. The lights wound down as doors flew open.

"What the... Oh, God, Marigold is home alone! Daisy, hide! Don't let them see you!" Jamin was already running for the house. "Something is wrong, seriously wrong!"

Daisy stood where he'd left her, torn between wanting to help and hiding. But depending on what the police wanted, it might not be wise to let the authorities know she was here.

She needed to see what was going on, though. Leaving the path, she crept through the trees and slapped her hand across her mouth when the yard came fully into view. Marigold stood on the steps, and Jamin was still running down the path to the gate.

Clutching her hands to her chest, she watched helplessly as six drawn guns were leveled at Marigold, and she had to grip the fence to stop herself from flying to Marigold's aid.

A megaphone disturbed the air and echoed off the mountains.

"Hand her over!"

Tell them, Marigold! Tell them whatever they want to know!

Daisy daren't make a sound. Jamin didn't want the police to know she was here.

Being a woman wouldn't protect Marigold from police brutality, if it was seen that she was obstructing the law. Jamin, please my love, get there quickly. Protect your sister. The color of her skin carried more weight than her gender.

Marigold held out her hands to show she was unarmed. Jamin was now nearly at the gate. Her firm voice carried clearly to Daisy's hiding place, and she was relieved Marigold didn't pretend not to know who they meant. "Daisy isn't here right now. She went for a walk a little while ago. I don't know when she'll be back."

They were looking for her. Why? Was her past catching up with her? Had she done something wrong? Was that why she couldn't remember anything, like some sort of psychic protection? But how did the police know where to find her?

Daisy let go of the fence. The police were here for her, and she was not going to have Marigold and Jamin punished for having been kind to her for the past year.

One of the officers ran to Marigold, his gun pointing at the center of her chest. "What have you done with her?" he bellowed into her face.

"I've done nothing to her," Marigold gasped. "She's gone for a walk, she often does. She isn't a prisoner here."

The officer pulled his arm back and whacked Marigold across the face. Daisy screamed as she started to run. She didn't see when Marigold hit the ground. Intermittently through the trees, she saw Jamin skid to a halt and fell to his knees between his sister and the officer. She tried to go faster, but there was already a stitch in her side, which she tried her best to ignore.

She lost sight of the yard until she reached the gate, which she hit at full speed. Just then, Marigold was roughly pulled to a sitting position and her hands cuffed behind her back. Jamin was already cuffed, the metal glinting behind his back.

Daisy heard him say, "Officer, please, don't hurt my sister. Marigold wouldn't do anything to harm Daisy. She'd been caring for her all this time. They're friends."

"We only have your word for it," the policeman with the megaphone said. "Until the white woman is found unharmed, you two are under arrest."

All six officers turned when Daisy stormed into the yard, but before any of them could move, she fell to her knees in the dust beside Marigold, panting as she clasped her side. The guns pointing at Marigold and Jamin wavered.

"Ma'am, what is wrong? Did these people hurt you?"

"I have a stitch in my side, you fool," Daisy sneered. "I ran a long way to get here before you hurt my friends any more! Get those guns out of my face!" When the cops didn't react, she shot to her feet to scream into the nearest one's face. "Now, I said!"

The guns were hastily holstered, and Daisy dropped to her knees beside Marigold again. A slash across her cheekbone bled profusely, dripping onto her dress.

"Oh, my God, Marigold, what have they done to you?" Daisy draped her arm around Marigold's shoulders as she gently hugged her.

Marigold turned dazed eyes up to her face. "They know you're here," she said.

"What is it to them? What do they want with me?"

Her heart in her mouth, Jess screamed, "Ben! Ben! Come quickly! They're being arrested on false pretenses! Who reported them to the police?"

Ben put Amber down from spinning her in a full circle by the arms. He was at Jess' side in seconds. "What? What's happened? Who is being arrested? Where?"

"Ben, look!"

But the vision was gone. Shaking from head to foot, she stammered, "It's Daisy. She was right here." The mustiness of the ruin underscored by the sweet fragrance of lilies still filled her nostrils, and she sneezed. "I wanted you to see her for yourself."

Ben gave her a strange look. "Daisy who? And what does she have to do with me? What is she doing on my property?" He inspected every inch of the ruin. When he didn't find anything, he came back to glare at Jess. "There is no one here. Who did you see? How many of them were there?" He gripped her arm and pulled her out of the ruin. "Go up to the house with Amber. Lock the doors and make sure the windows on the ground level are closed. Don't come back outside until I say so." He already had his mobile in his hand, punching numbers into it.

"Ben, what are you doing?"

"I'm calling the police. Get my child to safety." He pressed the mobile to his ear.

She took the phone from him and cut the call before handing it back to him. "Ben, Daisy was here with Jamin and Marigold and six policemen. What are the police going to do?"

He glared at her, the phone still in his hand. "What are you talking about? You yelled someone was being arrested. I thought you meant right now."

"Do you see anyone being arrested? Do you see cop cars in the paddock?"

"What are you playing at! You scared the crap out of me. I feared for my child's life!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that. It was the shock...since yesterday, I have been having visions. They seem so real. I hoped you'd be able to share it with me, to see this woman for yourself. She was right here. I'm so sorry. I didn't want to tell you, not yet, not until I figured it all out, but I have to tell you now. It was Daisy who gave Amber this doll." She waved the dall for Ben to see.

"Who is Daisy? Why would a person named Daisy give Amber anything?" He frowned at Jess. "You're not making any sense, Jessica. Why do you suddenly have visions in my house, or is it normal for you?"

"I'm not making it up, Ben. All I know, is that I saw this doll in a vision in Roxanne's room last night, this exact doll. And now Amber says her mother gave it to her. How do you explain that? And that pendant you gave Daemon last night was a gift to Daisy and then you say Roxanne found it in the graveyard over there. How much of a coincidence is that? Am I going crazy?"

He glared at her for a moment longer. "'Crazy' is a strong word. Deluded sounds better." He swung Amber onto his shoulder and left Jess standing in front of the ruin, staring after them.

How could she convince him of what she saw?

Ben crossed the river before he set Amber down. "Go find Ethel, sweetie?" he told her and watched her scamper up the gentle slope until she reached the yard before he turned to watch as Jess slowly made her way across the river and retrieved her loafers.

He stood easily with his thumbs hooked through the loops of his wet shorts, his feet planted evenly. His lips were curved into an odd smile, his head tilted to one side.

Recalling the feel of those lips on hers, she rushed to him. She didn't blame him for snapping at her back there. The way she'd told him about her visions sounded like a muddle, even to her, but she'd get to the bottom of all this, and then she'd tell him properly, systematically, so he, too, would understand.

When Jess caught up with him, he slipped his arm around her shoulders and turned her to the house. "You have strange ideas, Jessica. Just don't attach too much meaning to them, okay?" He cleared his throat as they walked together up the slope. "I'm trying hard not to be attracted to you, but I am. The whole problem is that I'm not strong enough to resist you."

Jess smiled. "It's wonderful, don't you think? Don't fight it, Ben. Just go with your feelings and grab the moment. I'm not going to stop you. I want you, too." If Roxanne was really still alive somewhere, she'd lost her chance with this gorgeous man.

"I'd very much like to continue what we started last night. Only thing is, I don't want you to read more into it than there is, because I will let you go, whatever the outcome here."

Jessica started to untangle herself from his arms, but he tightened them so that she couldn't get away from him.

"Do you think I'm taking advantage of the situation?"

She stopped struggling. "Yes, of course you are. What if Roxanne suddenly came walking up the paddock?"

"Jessica, you and I both know that isn't going to happen."

"Then why? Why are you closing the door on us?"

"Because I'm taking life one step at a time. I can't guarantee tomorrow any more than you can." He turned her under his arm and pulled hers around his waist. Together and in step, they headed up the hill.

"No one can predict the next second, Ben, never mind the future. All this nonsense about Roxanne still being alive is rubbing off on you. Keep reminding yourself that Roxanne is dead, and that she can't come back to you."

"Something strange is going on, but as I told you, I think someone is trying to scare you away. Even these visions of yours can't be any more than tricks. That's my honest opinion."

She stopped as she looked back across the river. Daemon might help her to get rid of the visions, but she didn't want to ask him yet. She wanted to find out what happened to Jamin and Daisy first. Maybe Lettie was Jamin's second wife and he didn't play a dirty on Daisy after all. Daisy could have died in childbirth, or she could have remembered and gone home to her people. That was a possibility.

Argh, it was all so confusing.

Whatever might have happened to Daisy, Jess knew there was a purpose to the visions she was having. She was sure there was something she was supposed to figure out by herself, but what that might be, she didn't know.

In the graveyard, Daemon didn't seem to know they'd returned to the house. His head was bent, his face curtained by his hair, while he stroked the headstones with those long fingers. Suddenly, he looked up at her, and the intensity in his eyes bored into hers across the distance. Fear so intense she couldn't breathe washed through her. It felt as if he was warning her against something yet to come.

When shivers shook her and she hid her face in Ben's neck, he lifted her chin to study her. "What is it, Jess? What's scaring you?" His breath on her cheeks warmed her and she clung to him.

She had to clear her throat before she could speak. "That man, Daemon, what do you make of him?"

"Are you scared of him? I'll throw him out my house—"

"No, I'm scared of the things I see and have no explanation for. I just don't know if Daemon is what he says he is. Maybe he's the one behind my visions, but why me? And if it isn't him, then who? And what do they mean?" Her voice wobbled. "Ben—Lettie, who is buried down there, knew Daisy. But the inscription on the headstone... Lettie died in 1983. That means Daisy—"

Ben cut her off. "Jess, not another word. Someone is deliberately trying to confuse you to scare you off, that's all. There are no hidden meanings."

Alison brought up the rear at a fast pace, ran past them, and took Amber's hand. Until that moment, Jess hadn't noticed Amber hovering in the yard instead of finding Ethel in the house, because to do that, she'd have had to pass Millicent, who was still standing on the veranda. The child didn't seem to object to Alison's touch, but she avoided Millicent at all costs. Why was that?

As Alison and Amber mounted the steps, Alison yelled for Ethel before joining her sister. Together, the sisters glared at Ben and Jess when they crossed the yard.

Millicent's eyes were hard as flint. "What a distasteful display," she hissed. "I hope we are not going to be subjected to more of that."

Not at all cowed, Ben grinned at her.

"What happened here today must prove to you that neither person you have looking after Amber is competent, Ben," she continued, her lips curved into a tight smile. "I hope you now realize only a Howard can do a proper job, until her mother is back to do it herself."

Amber hid her face against her Aunt Alison's legs while she gently stroked her hair. Alison was good with her.

Jess studied the hem of Millicent's dress. It would have been soaked to her knees if she tried to cross the river, but it wasn't. She never seriously thought Millicent had anything to do with the vision in the ruin across the river. Daisy was nothing like Millicent. All the other creepiness she assigned to Millicent, yes, but not the visions.

But Daemon's eyes, when they turned to her just now... What had that been about? What had he tried to communicate? Instinctively she'd thought it a warning, but against what?

"Jess isn't employed to look after Amber." The smile had slipped off his face. "I don't see you doing very much yourself." Ben deliberately linked his fingers with Jess'.

Both sisters stared at the clasped hands, but neither commented. Alison told her sister, "Amber thinks her mother took her across the river and gave her a doll. I didn't realize Roxanne was that close by, did you?"

How did Alison know what Amber said? She never crossed the river and Amber's little voice couldn't have carried far over the sound of the river.

Ethel pushed the screen door open and swooped the little girl into her arms, kissing her noisily on the cheek. "Would you like a cool drink, sweetie?" she asked as they turned away.

"See you later, Amber," Alison said, waving at the child. Millicent seemed oblivious to the exchange.

The bottom of Ethel's dress was wet, as was to be expected, because she had been on that stepping stone a long time. She had gotten back to the house fast, though. Again Ben met Jess' eyes. He claimed that Ethel was too old to keep up with Amber, but from what she'd seen, the old woman outdid every one of the younger people. She seemed to be everywhere at once.

Jess sighed. There were too many questions and not enough answers. "Who were those people buried down there by the river, Ethel?" she asked.

Ethel turned at the door. "The foreman's family. Lettie was his wife and a strange one, but Marigold, his sister, was a lovely woman. I miss her still."

Jess frowned. Was one of the graves down by the river Daisy's? She couldn't voice that question in front of the sisters. They'd demand to know how she knew about Daisy, and Jess didn't want them to know about her visions.

She didn't quite manage to smother a groan. She couldn't even talk to Ben about Daisy. He'd made it clear that nothing in her visions had anything to do with him.

Amber started to wriggle in the old woman's arms, and when she wasn't quick enough to put her down, Amber pummeled her shoulders with her tiny fists, screaming, "Not my mama! Not my mama!"

"That's naughty, Amber." Ethel put her down and took her hand before opening the door, taking the soggy doll Jess held out to her. The door closed softly behind the pair, leaving Ben and Jess outside with the sisters. He pulled her close, unmindful of Alison's eyes growing wide, and the snarl spreading across Millicent's face. The wet from his clothes soaked into Jess' T-shirt, but she didn't care. Drops still jeweled his blond hair, too. "What's the matter? Why the strange sounds?" he asked in her ear.

"Frustration, because I can't figure things out. I just don't have enough information," she whispered back.

Nodding, he released her to take his wet shirt off and drape it over the railing. Jess noticed the keen interest in his bare chest from his sisters-in-law.

You can look, but neither of you will ever touch. Ben is mine.

It took no time to unwind the soaked bandage. About ten inches of tiny, neat stitches ran the length of Ben's upper arm, the edges looking red and angry. It had started to ooze fresh blood again, thanks to the impromptu swim and subsequent exertion.

"At this rate, I'll be using all the bandages in the clinic on myself," he muttered. "I'd better put in an order for Monday." He shook his hair, showering the three women in river water. Alison squealed and ran into the house, her older sister following more sedately.

"Ben, please could you make an effort to wear a shirt while your sisters-in-law are here?" Jess asked.

He raised a brow. "Jealous, are you?"

"Yes! They already think of you as their property. I don't want them to ogle you."

Ben chuckled as he gave her a two-finger salute.

Grinning, she changed the subject. "Has something like this happened before? I mean, with Amber disappearing?"

"No, never. She's always talking about her mother, although she's never claimed her mother had given her anything before."

"Has Amber ever accused Ethel of not being her mother?"

"Not that I've heard. It must be the autism."

Jess smiled. "Do you think Ethel's feelings were hurt?"

"Who knows? I would have thought Ethel too old to care. You know, vagrants might have moved into that old ruin. That might account for what you think you saw."

Jess basked in the heat in his eyes, her earlier fear completely forgotten. "You searched the place and found nothing."

"That doesn't mean they're not there."

"But Amber wouldn't refer to a stranger as her mother, would she? And it isn't very likely that a random stranger would resemble the sisters, either. On the other hand, that river crossing is really dangerous for a child, whereas a 'mother' isn't. You should do something about those stepping stones, Ben."

Jess leaned against the railing. "And the mother-at-the-dinner-table routine should stop. Amber is old enough and bright enough to be told her mother is dead. Children with autism have problems forming emotional bonds with those around them, yet Amber has formed such a bond with a person who isn't there. It isn't helping her, Ben." Jess tucked her hair behind her ear. "It might be that Ethel and her mother have become the same person in Amber's mind," she suggested. "All of this is confusing the child."

"What's going on around here, Jessica?" Ben said, pulling her into his arms. His skin was cool under her palms, but he still smelled of sunshine. Jess felt the worry and tension in his body. "Who lured my child away from the house, across the river no less, and gave her that doll, if she was only with her imaginary mother? Then you claim a woman who was here in the sixties gave her the doll. It's just not logical."

"Except if Daisy visits as a ghost." When Ben's forehead wrinkled, Jess held up her hand. "No, we won't go there. All I'm saying is there's more to this than we can reason out. We just don't have enough facts to work with."

"I take it you see ghosts often, then?"

"No, I actually haven't seen a ghost before." Jess wondered where he was going with this.

"Aha," Ben said. "So, you're no expert on ghosts and hauntings." He wiped his face on the wet shirt. "Jessica, you're very sweet, but I suggest you don't theorize about things you know nothing about. None of this really concerns you." He glanced around and studied the hill on the opposite side of the river. Jess followed the path of his gaze. No one was there, except Daemon, who was still amongst the old graves.

Jess squinted up at the sky. "It most definitely concerns me, as I'm the one being frightened half to death," she muttered and taking a deep breath. "And remember, I'm looking at Amber's situation with fresh and qualified eyes." Gnawing her lip, she delivered her bomb. "I don't think Amber is autistic at all, Ben."

"What? Are you a pediatrician, too? I missed that qualification in your résumé."

Flattening her hand against his chest, his heart beat reassuringly against her palm. "Ben, listen. I think Amber was socialized incorrectly."

"What about the flapping and banging and shaking people off, and the unresponsiveness?"

"Did you notice she only displays those symptoms some of the time? Autism isn't an on-again, off-again condition. It is there all the time. Because of that, I don't think those are symptoms at all, not in Amber's case. Did Roxanne touch her— you know, lovingly, hugging her and so on?"

Ben frowned at her. "I suppose she must have. Is that important?"

"Crucial. If Roxanne touched Amber perfunctorily, only when necessary, like to bathe her, or dress her, or to change her diaper, she might have starved her of emotional development. Those early years form a child's personality for the rest of his or her life."

"What are you implying? Roxanne loved Amber."

"I don't doubt it, but maybe with a touch of resentment, which might have made her draw back from her baby emotionally."

Ben regarded her for a long moment. "Are you saying there might be nothing wrong with Amber?"

"Yes, and I'd like the chance to try and prove it to you."

"How?"

"Given time, I could resocialize her, teach her new patterns of responding to people. It could make all the difference, but it's a time-consuming process." She pursed her lips. "I could be wrong, but even if I am, Amber will only benefit from the training."

A grin spread across Ben's lips. "I see where you're going with this. This is an all-out bombardment to appoint you as Amber's nanny." He planted a smacking kiss on her lips. "You nearly had me there." He drew her arm around his waist and led her up the steps. "You know, I find it rather endearing, not to mention good for my ego, to have a gorgeous, clever woman like you so eager to be around me."

Jess laughed and swatted his arm. "If you're not careful, I'm going to believe you are a very arrogant man." She draped her arms around his neck, pressing herself to the length of him. His hands dropped to her bottom and lifted her hips to his bulging groin. Jess' mouth went dry and her voice acquired a new huskiness when she said, "News flash, I don't think your body is as disinterested as your clever lips proclaim. You're having a little problem, aren't you, doctor?"

Grinning, Ben agreed. "I am. Since you fell on top of me yesterday, I have had a boner just about the whole time." He lowered his head for a long, thoroughly provocative kiss. "I think, at this rate, we're going to have to go upstairs for a while." But he deftly put her away from him, the smile dwindling. "I never said I wasn't interested, Jessica, only that I'm not in the market for a relationship."

By the time Jess managed to get her eyes to focus again, he had schooled his features into the familiar grumpy expression. As he turned to the door, he dropped his hand to rearrange himself before opening it. "We'll discuss your theories later, but please, not in front of the sisters." He dropped his voice, pulling her close with his arm around her waist. "I don't want them to know you're seeing things."

"As you're adamant your wife died in that accident, have you ever considered that Roxanne's ghost might be hovering about the place, looking out for you and Amber?" Jess asked. That would explain the tug of war, with her in the middle—Ethel pushing her into Ben's arms and Roxanne's ghost pulling them apart.

"That could have made sense, but I just can't see Roxanne as a ghost."

The kitchen was empty, with no sign of the sisters and Ethel watching cartoons in the lounge with Amber, by the sounds of it. Jess smiled when their laughter reached the kitchen. Ben poured two mugs of coffee and headed for the door, one in each hand, holding it open for her to precede him into the hall.

The house had a deserted feel to it, she mused as she crossed to the study. She presumed that was where he intended for them to go.

A deep rumbling stopped him in the middle of the hall. Jess managed to fling the study door wide, duck inside and turn before the chandelier crashed to the floor between them. Crystals scattered all over the hall—again.

Ben reached her before she could move a shocked muscle.

"Are you all right?" he asked after hastily depositing the mugs on his desk.

She leaned against the door jamb, her hand to her cheek. He pulled it away from her face to inspect her closely.

"N-no, I'm f-fine. It missed m-me," she stuttered. "Jan just fixed it." She didn't say what she thought, that the darn chandelier seemed to have it in for her.

Ben exhaled as he wrapped her against his bare chest, his lips pressed to her hair.

"I know," he said against her mouth. "I think I need professionals to look at it. On second thought, I think I'll have it removed completely for the time being."

Millicent appeared on the upper landing at the same time as Ethel did in the doorway to the lounge, holding Amber's hand. The cartoons were still blaring behind them.

"I'll get Jan," Ethel said, nudging Amber back to the TV.

"Tell him to put the thing in the barn before someone else gets hurt. There's too much going on to bother with a chandelier that doesn't want to stay where it belongs."

Millicent stared down at them with those unfathomable eyes. What was with her now? Jess decided she didn't really care, and followed Ben into the study.

He sat down behind his desk, his elbows on the shiny surface, head in hands. "I should have known how the sisters were going to react to the anniversary of Roxanne's death. They bring a negativity into the house and I just can't think straight with them here." Dropping his hands, he brooded into his cup, then brought halfway to his mouth. "I wish everyone would bugger off and leave me alone so things can get back to normal."

Still shaken, Jessica snapped, "I'm sorry, I'll go call a cab. You should have said."

"I didn't mean you, Jessica, and you know it. You have a valid reason for being here. You're my guest, and I want you to stay. The Howards, on the other hand, have always managed to get up my nose, and Daemon, well, he's a bit"—he glanced at the open door before he dropped his voice to continue—"a bit flaky for Millicent, not the type of man I would have thought she'd go for. Do you think he's for real? How do you rate his chances of finding Roxanne? He claims to be psychic, but you're the one seeing things."

"He knew where Amber was before I saw her. And he was very intense down there by the river, the way he was holding onto those headstones. I could almost believe he had direct contact with the dead. Yet he didn't seem to sense what was going on inside the ruined building when I had the vision." She took a deep breath and met his eyes.

"He scares you."

"Not really. It was just...when I looked at him and he looked at me from across the river... It was as if something terrifying gripped me. I was scared, but not of him," she quickly added, smoothing her hair. "He should speak to Ethel. She definitely knows things. Besides, whatever the people in those graves knew, Ethel would know, too."

"Oh?" he queried. "Like what, for instance?"

"I don't know, but they all knew each other, according to Ethel. They were all here at the same time." Jess shrugged. "Ethel seems to be everywhere, lurking in shadows, appearing out of thin air. She told me nothing is what it seems, but I can't help thinking that she isn't what she pretends to be."

"Aren't you being a bit dramatic? Ethel isn't pretending to be anything other than what she is—a harmless old woman—her only crime growing too old to look after Amber. I need someone to help me with my daughter, someone qualified, someone who knows what she's doing."

"Someone like me. And now you got cold feet and you're not prepared to have a permanent arrangement with me because of what we did last night." She lowered her mug. "Would it help if I offered to live in the village and only come out here every morning?"

"That won't work. I need someone on hand around the clock. You saw what happened today. And you living in town won't stop what's going on between us. This thing with Roxanne is messing with my head. It won't be fair on you to get involved with me." Ben clasped his hands on top of the laptop. "I shouldn't have made love to you. I'm not ready for where that leads. I'm sorry."

"Ben, you're a conundrum on two legs." She puffed her cheeks out, trying to get her mind out of the bedroom. "You're adamant your wife is dead, yet you're too scared of moving your life forward. You're a prisoner to the past, Ben."

"No, I'm not. I just don't want to start something I can't finish."

"I have news for you, big boy—you've already started something. Why do you think you can't carry through? You're not obligated to anyone. Making love was exactly what you needed, and there's no going back now. It will be good for you, and for Amber, to have a woman in your life who isn't merely an employee. I'm exactly the right woman for you."

"We agreed last night meant nothing, no strings attached, remember?"

"No, you decided it meant nothing, yet in the next breath you say you can't resist me. You kiss me like a lover and you touch me like a lover, yet you claim you don't want me in your life."

Putting her cup on the desk, she rounded it to perch on his armrest. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. I love your attention. And you know, if you put our relationship out there, you could get rid of the sisters altogether. They'd lose interest in their agendas for you faster than you could say 'I'm allowed to make love to Jess.'"

Ben chuckled, but his brows pulled together. "Why are you so desperate for this particular job, Jessica? Is employment that hard to come by in the city?"

"No, but I haven't come across a job that intrigued me as much as this one does, even with the strange things going on. And it's more than a job. You and Amber are not work." She got to her feet, her hands clasped under her chin. At the window, she turned. "Just for the moment, let's say Roxanne is home by the end of today, as the sisters claim she will be. What then?"

"That would depend on where she was for the past twelve months. If she took time out of our marriage... Roxanne made it clear she didn't know how to deal with her own daughter, so I'd still need a nanny. But as for Roxanne and me resuming our relationship, I just don't know. Her coming back now will be a massive shock to my system."

A soft sound, like a sigh, reached them from the hall, and both turned to wait for someone to appear in the open doorway.

When no one did, Ben got up to look out into the hall. "Only Ethel," he said. "You're going to have to excuse me. I have a clinic full of animals needing my care." He was grinding his teeth again. Without another word, he walked into the hall. Jess followed to the doorway.

He nodded at Jan, who was loading the chandelier onto a wheelbarrow.

Staring after Ben, she waited until the screen door bang behind him before she dashed after him. She had no intention of letting him get away again without reaching some sort of agreement.

In the kitchen, Ethel was drying her hands on a cloth, for once not smiling. Amber, at the table with her coloring book and crayons, ignored Jess. She hesitated only a second before following Ben out the door, careful to keep a safe distance between herself and the four dogs dancing around him. Although there seemed to be a truce and she wasn't frightened of them anymore, she still didn't particularly want to be friends with the hairballs.

The dogs scattered when a cab pulled into the driveway.

Jess heard Ben heave a heavy sigh, grinding one word through his teeth. "Moira." She frowned. From the way he said the name, she sensed that Ben liked this Howard sister the least.

Alison ran out the front door to meet the newcomer on the gravel driveway. Hugging her sister, Alison said something in Moira's ear, who leaned away to ask, "What do you mean?"

"Moi, there are things going on here," Alison said, forgetting to keep her voice down. Two blonde heads turned to look at Ben, then at her on the back lawn. "You should see those two carry on."

"Who is she?"

"Ben says she's the wanna-be nanny, but they're all over each other."

"We'll remind Ben of his obligations," the newcomer said.

Millicent appeared from the house to join her sisters. She turned to see what they were looking at. "He's trying to get rid of us. Must be awkward for him having us here as well as her," Millicent said.

"Yes, Alison told me. That's what I've been afraid of. Men are weak. You can fill in the details later. Hello, Ben," Moira said with a smile, wrapping herself around him in a hug.

Jess stared at the three sisters, gritting her teeth at their rudeness. Sour grapes, she decided, because Ben wanted her here, not them.

The resemblance between the three was so strong, any one of them could step into the others' shoes and no one would be any the wiser. When they were all together, it was mostly subtle age differences that became clear.

"Moira," Ben said, untangling himself from her arms. "We've been expecting you."

"We need to find Roxanne. You've pined long enough, Ben." She pointedly looked Jess up and down.

Jess bristled. She was beginning to feel as if she was in some sort of cattle show. They'd be looking at her teeth next.

"This is Jessica James. She is helping with Amber."

"It's very nice to meet you, Jessica." The woman smiled as she shook Jess' hand. A shiver ran through Jess at the touch, and had to suppress the urge to wipe her hand on her jeans. Yet the newcomer was the only one of the sisters who had greeted her properly.

Moira turned back to Ben. "Amber doesn't need a nanny, Ben. She needs her own mother. And if that turns out to be impossible, one way or another, a mother who understands her and who's known her since birth, one who is as like her own mother as another person can be. Won't you allow us to help you? We're here for you, Ben."

Ben rolled his eyes. "You mean Millicent. Moira, I'm going to say this only once, so listen carefully, all three of you. I am quite capable of making my own choices for the future, for Amber and for myself. I'm not in the market for any of your ploys."

"This is no game to us, I assure you," Moira said.

"Whatever. You ladies will have to excuse me, my patients are waiting. I'm not about to discuss my private affairs with you. You better hope Daemon finds Roxanne, and very soon."

"There's no reason to be aggressive. Who is Daemon?" Moira asked.

Ben ignored her question. "Let's hope he's as good as he claims to be, so you can all be on your way. Let me know when you're ready to leave. I'd like to say cheerio." He stalked off. Jess didn't follow.

"I bet you would." Moira smiled at his retreating back.

He waved over his shoulder.

"Still insisting Rox is dead, I see," Moira muttered as the sisters left Jess standing on the unkempt lawn. The dogs were still nowhere to be seen after the strange vehicle scattered them, or she wouldn't have waited for the front door to close behind the sisters before following them. For Ben, she needed to get to the bottom of their plans.

They settled themselves in the lounge as if they owned the place. Jess hovered just outside the door, out of sight, from where she could follow the conversation. She cringed at the treatment the crockery was receiving in the kitchen. Ethel must be preparing a tray for them.

"Who is Daemon?" Moira demanded. "And what is he actually doing to find Roxanne?"

"He is a friend, Moira. He was down by the river when Ben found Amber, but I haven't seen him since." Millicent's voice was a notch higher than usual.

"Found Amber?"

Alison quickly filled Moira in on what had happened that morning, ending with, "That idiot was fondling those headstones when the rest of us came back to the house."

"Those colored people's graves? What could he hope to learn from them? Millicent, don't you think you should go find him?" Moira asked. "I have a few questions for him."

Jess dashed into the kitchen to avoid being caught eavesdropping, startling Ethel when she slipped into a chair at the table. Amber looked up from coloring, her blue eyes huge. Jess patted her hand.

"Do you think Daemon will find Roxanne?" she asked the old woman to hide any awkwardness.

Ethel regarded her for a long moment. "Roxanne will be found when Roxanne wants to be found."

"She is alive then, as the sisters claim?"

"Who knows?"

"I had another vision in the ruin across the river. If Roxanne is dead, she could be haunting Weltevreden, couldn't she? Then surely she should feature in my visions, but she doesn't. I'm seeing Daisy. Where does she fit in? Resembling the Howard sister as much as she did, she might have been their grandmother. What do you think, Ethel? Am I close?"

"Why ask me? You seem to have it worked out all by yourself. What a vivid imagination you have, dear, but how did you arrive at the ghost theory?"

"From Amber. She mentioned her mother down there by the river."

"And you concluded Roxanne is dead and haunting Weltevreden? Extraordinary." Ethel stared out the window. "It must be fun being a ghost. You can do all sorts of random nonsense and no one can do anything about it but be scared."

"But why would Roxanne's ghost endanger her own child, like today at the river?"

Ethel sighed as if she was exhausted, her voice grainier than normal. "Who said Amber was in any danger?"

"She had to have been, Ethel! Those stones are slippery and Amber could have fallen into the water and been swept away. A ghost wouldn't have been able to save her. We'd never have found her."

"What if Amber was helped across by a real person? Would those stones still have been as dangerous as you claim?"

Jess stared at her. "Ethel, what are you saying?"

Ethel tapped the side of her nose. "No one said anything about a ghost but you."

"But... How do you explain Amber claiming her mother had been with her? And what about all the strange things happening, the silly talking bed, and the chandelier falling down as soon as I'm under it... I can't make sense of any of it."

"Are you sure about what you see?" Ethel rewarded Jess with her signature white grin.

"No, I'm not sure about anything!" Jess exclaimed. "I wish you'd talk to me, Ethel."

"I thought I was," the older woman said. She ruffled the little blonde head, then lifted the enormous tray. It was laden with things for tea—a platter of cakes and biscuits, savory nibbles, and the tea service. She paused with her back against the door. "Think carefully. I think you'll understand."

Jess followed Ethel into the hall. From her position against the wall, she heard the tray thump to the table. The TV had been turned off. Moira greeted Ethel warmly and there were sounds like they were kissing each other.

Ethel looked like a thundercloud on the way back to the kitchen. Jess stayed out of sight of the occupants of the lounge.

Moira's voice drifted through the open door. "Ben's reluctance is unnecessary. Roxanne will be found before nightfall, and she'll be back to take care of her husband's needs."

Jess made out the sounds of tea being poured and of loud slurping. Didn't those women have any finesse?

"We should have completed our care of our niece the moment she was born. Autism, indeed. The longer we leave it, the worse she's going to get. The people around her just don't understand her."

There were shuffling noises inside the lounge. "I'll take this with me," Moira said, much closer to the door. "Alison, bring my bags upstairs. Millicent will find us there."

Jess skedaddled around the corner into a short passage that conveniently presented itself. Flattening herself against the wall, she waited until the sisters had moved across the hall—Alison to go outside and Moira regally up the stairs with her teacup, muttering about Roxy's house falling apart in more ways than one.

Only when the stairs creaked did Jess tiptoe to the corner. A few moments later, Alison labored up the stairs after her sister, weighed down with enough luggage for a family of four for a month. She had a suitcase in each hand, several bags hung from her shoulders and something was tucked under each arm. "Are you sure you brought enough stuff, Moi?" she complained.

"You know what I always say, Alison—it's better to have something and not need it than to need something and not have it."

"What are we going to do about the nanny?" Alison puffed from the landing.

"Keep your voice down. We'll take care of her, then do some damage control. First things first—Roxanne has to come home."

"The nanny claims to have visions. She thought I couldn't hear her and Ben whispering. And Amber said her mother gave her a doll this morning. What do you think that means, Moi?"

As the two women moved along the upper hall, their voices faded until Jess couldn't make out what they were saying. She'd have to follow them if she didn't want to miss the drift of their conversation. For Ben's sake, it was crucial that she found out what they planned to do, now that all three of them were here together.

When she reached the landing, Jess hugged the wall, and carefully peered around the corner. The passage was gloomy, but after a moment, she was sure those sisters weren't in the hall any longer.

Where did they go?

Jess heard them moving about, banging sounds like drawers opening and closing, punctuating their conversation.

Suddenly there was absolute silence.

A door handle squeaked as it was turned.

Jess snatched her head back from the corner just as Roxanne's bedroom door opened. She daren't move for fear of the floorboard creaking under her if she shifted her weight. It wouldn't do for the sisters to know of her interest, not that they were being exactly secretive. They were talking and laughing as they came into the hall.

If the sisters were making their way to the stairs, she was about to be busted. What to do, what to do? She nearly cried with relief when another door opened and closed, one she couldn't identify immediately. Although she was safe for the moment, she wasn't about to push her luck, and descended the stairs as fast as she could, quickstepping into the kitchen.

What were the sisters looking for in Roxanne's room?

She was going to have to round Daemon up for a look-see. As soon as Moira was done with him, Jess would corner him. She had to know what secrets Roxanne's room protected and what had growled at her this morning.

The owl soared through his mind, the white feathers rippling in the wind. It looked this way and that, as if searching for something. Daemon barely glanced up when he became aware of Millicent's presence. At first, she seemed to be an extension of the vision and it took him a while to realize she was actually sitting against a lichen-covered headstone, a faraway, dreamy look in her eyes.

When she felt his eyes on her, Millicent smiled and stretched. "Hi," she murmured.

She was without doubt the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He pushed the instant physical reaction aside. Being a man sometimes had its drawbacks, and his desire for this strange and complicated woman was going to have to wait until the Roxanne mystery was resolved. Then Millicent would know how red the blood in his veins really was.

"Hi yourself," he said with a smile. "How long have you been here?"

"A while." She shrugged. "I didn't want to interrupt you." She spread her hand palm down in the grass.

Daemon jumped when a shadow fell over her pale skin. He glanced around their immediate surroundings, but no one was there. When he looked at her hand again, the shade was gone. Their gazes locked.

"Dae, may I have a look at my sister's pendant, please? You have it with you, don't you?"

"Of course. It is too powerful a tool to leave lying around." He pointed at the circle of tealight candles on the collapsed headstone. The pendant nestled in a glass dish in the center. Around the dish, Daemon had shaped a ring with salt.

Millicent frowned at the arrangement. "What have you been doing here, Daemon? What's this?" She pointed at the ring of salt.

"Salt keeps energies in and unwanted interference out."

"Why?"

"So that I can be sure who I'm communicating with. Why did

you ask about the pendant?"

Millicent shrugged. "No reason. I just felt like looking at it. Does the salt work?"

Daemon smiled. He liked it when she paid attention to what he was doing. He liked teaching her. "Oh, yes, it does. You see, with the pendant protected, I can be certain I'm communicating with Roxanne. It is a different story inside the house. Many vibrations intrude in the house."

"Interesting. And what is she telling you?"

"Nothing definite, nothing I can tell you yet." Daemon nodded at the dish. "The pendant is a great help."

He watched Millicent lean closer to stare at the disk. Her eyes changed, the blue deepening, her eyelids lowering a fraction, her lips pulled into a straight line.

Daemon's heart contracted with premonition when she took a deep breath and exhaled it into the dish, just like she'd breathed on the pendant last night.

Why did she do that? It had to be as bad as her touching it, if not worse. There was power in the breath.

Millicent wasn't the same woman who had found him in Cape Town and begged him to help her. Then he'd thought—hoped—once here, together, something might develop between them, but now there was a quality about her that scared the crap out of him.

He caught his long hair in his fist as he looked away, using his peripheral vision to keep an eye on the pendant, in case she snatched it while she thought he wasn't looking. What was her interest in it? This was the second time in as many days she gave it this close an inspection. Surely, she must have seen it before, if her sister wore it as often as Ben said?

The tip of her tongue protruded between her lips when her eyes slanted to him. Her head didn't move. She barely hesitated before straightening up.

Had she been about to take the pendant? Why would she do that? She knew he needed it for Roxanne's vibrations contained in it. Did she want to interfere with his search for her twin? But why?

Taking the pendant from the dish, he slipped it into his pocket as he glared at her. He sensed something behind her eyes, like a presence, until she blinked and it was gone.

"Who was just here, Millicent?" A very strong smell of flowers he couldn't identify, hung around them, and he felt a disturbance in his soul.

"What do you mean, Dae? It's only us. Did you see one of these ghosts?" Laughing, she flung her hand wide to indicate the graves and the ruined house behind them. Then the smile slipped off her beautiful face. "I won't be surprised. I pick up strong emotions here." She breathed deeply. "Surely you feel it, too?" The sun disappeared momentarily behind a cloud. "It's quite a potent elixir."

Daemon frowned. Why did Millicent bring up ghosts? What was she trying to tell him without saying anything?

He glanced up at the sky. "Your aura has changed since we arrived here, Millicent. There's a distinct dark layer that wasn't there in Cape Town. What is it? What's troubling you? It would help a great deal if you shared your thoughts with me. What are you hiding, Millicent?"

A shadow flitted across his mind and was instantly gone.

"You're the psychic, you tell me," she whispered.

Daemon gritted his teeth. He knew of one method to try to break through her barriers, but he wouldn't resort to sex magick, not yet. That would be his last resort. "You could expedite our search for your sister if you told me about her. I sense a very strong negativity emanating from you, with Ben central to your feelings." He studied her profile when she turned away. "Ben is a delicate subject for you. Why? What is it about him that troubles you? And I've noticed how your presence disturbs him, too."

"I know. Isn't it wonderful? I love the way he goes to pieces every time he looks at me. And it isn't only because I remind him of my sister." She laughed that tinkling laugh so uniquely Millicent's.

"Why do you dislike him so much?" He held up his hand to stop her response. "No, not dislike, not even hate, but...love, a deep, profound love. You have loved the man for a long, long time, haven't you? Does he know? Does Roxanne know about your feelings for her husband?"

She gave a tinkling of a laugh before she scoffed, "Whatever gave you that idea? I only want to shake his world up a little. Ben is too complacent. There's more to life than he thinks he wants. And now he has that woman in his bed. He must wake up," she spat.

"He must wake up?" That was the root of the darkness in her aura, her yearning for her sister's husband.

Millicent shook her head. "Never mind me, Daemon. You should concentrate on my twin. She has to rescue Ben from that nanny woman before it's too late."

Daemon's dark hair fluttered in the breeze, a few strands reaching for Millicent's silver-blonde curls although not quite touching. The significance startled him, but he recovered fast. He'd known all along Millicent was the door to the answers he needed. If only he could find a way to open that door. He also knew she'd brought him here for a purpose over and above finding her twin, but she hadn't played that card yet. He'd know when she did.

"Do you want to tell me about your twin, Millie?" he asked gently, making sure he kept his eyes on her face.

"Not particularly. Why?" She picked a grass blade and twirled it between her fingers, her other hand with the inevitable cell phone in her lap.

"Because I'm confused. I find it difficult to separate you from your sister in meditation. Can you explain that?"

"Probably, but why should I?" She smiled coyly. "I'm interested in finding out how good a psychic you really are."

"You're the key to the riddle of your sister's disappearance. You could fill the gaps for me, couldn't you?"

Millicent stared at him in wide-eyed wonder. "I don't know what you mean. If I knew where she was, I'd have sorted Rox out long ago."

"What do you mean by that?"

Millicent pressed her lips together as she turned her head away.

He tried again. "Millicent, I sense her very strongly, as if she were right here." He hadn't meant to say that, because so far it was only a vague impression he couldn't explain. But Millicent's reaction revealed a lot.

She shot to her feet. "Where? Why didn't you say so? Take me to her," she demanded. "I have to see her for myself." Her eyes glittered with excitement. "I knew I was right about you. I knew you'd find my sister for me."

Daemon slowly unfolded himself from the ground. "I can't show her to you as I don't know where she is, exactly. She's trying to communicate, but until you allow her to, I can't do much. The portals are nearly fully open. You could help by sharing what you know." He raised a brow in question.

Millicent turned away to the river, fisting her hands in her hair. "What good is that? We're no closer to finding her. I know nothing that can be of any use to you. That's why I brought you here." Her voice sighed like the wind, and afterward he couldn't be sure he actually heard what he thought he had. "I have to find her before anyone else does."

Lightning struck the river, and immediately thunder crashed directly overhead.

Daemon looked up as he quickly pushed the candles together and obliterated the salt circle. "We should get back to the house, Millicent." He headed for the stepping stones. "Another storm is about to hit us." The day had gone dark very quickly.

He was about to step onto the first stone when he thought to check if Millicent followed. She just stood there, staring blankly into the distance. "Millicent, come on, it's going to rain."

Daemon knew he was going to have to do a deep meditation on Millicent. She was an enigma. Without understanding her, nothing else would fall into place.

"You go, Dae," Millicent said, smiling gently. "Leave me here for a while."

"Why? There is nothing here that won't keep. Come on, take my hand. I'll help you across. We can come back later if you want to."

A gust of wind flung Millicent's hair up in a shimmering cloud around her. Suddenly, as if prodded, she ran to him, as if she meant to run into him. He stepped aside just in time, and she ran across the stepping stones. He followed with more care.

She must have done this before, probably as a child growing up here with her sisters. It must be a trick she learned, to make the crossing without a splash. That, too, must be something the sisters had perfected as children. A trick, or a sleight of hand—or foot, in this case. It was quite possible to do. He'd like to learn these things from her, like not getting wet in the rain.

Safely on solid ground, Millicent turned to look across the river. Daemon shivered when their eyes met, hers as hard as stone. Her mask was going to be a hard one to crack, especially as it kept changing from one moment to the next.

And then the skies opened. Daemon turned on his heel and marched up the paddock to the house, leaving Millicent to make her own way. On the back porch, he took off his sandals and turned them upside down on the bottom step for the rain to wash off the mud caked to the soles.

With arms crossed over his chest, he waited for Millicent without offering to help her up the steps. She seemed unaffected by the wet and mud, as graceful as ever. Man, he needed her to teach him these things!

But first he had a bone to pick with her. Facing her, he said stiffly, "I can't help you find your sister if you're going to interfere with the channels, Millicent. What happened to you down there by the river? I have a strong feeling Roxanne isn't ready to be found, and more importantly, that you don't really want me to find her, regardless of what you claim."

"What are you talking about? Of course I want you to find her. Why else would I have brought you all the way out here? You say you have been communicating with her. What did you find out so far?" She slanted him a glance. "What makes you think she doesn't want to come back?" The tip of her tongue passed over her lips. "She doesn't have a choice but to show herself to me. You can tell her that from me."

"Millicent, this is a potent place, and emotions seem to be amplified and very close to the surface. You're playing with dangerous elements. Just be careful you don't get caught in your own game."

"What do you mean by that?" When he continued to stare at her, she swallowed and said, "Promise me you'll show her to me first, only to me, when you find her. Please?"

Daemon knew his silence unnerved her, but then she sighed and turned away. "Come, Moira wants to meet you." She waited for him to open the kitchen door for her. He sensed she wasn't all that enthusiastic about presenting him to her older sister.

In the kitchen, Daemon faced her again. "Millicent, what other reason was there for you seeking me out? I feel it, but you're hiding it well."

Millicent whipped around, startling Ethel, who was just coming through the door. "I don't know what you could possibly mean," she sneered, pushing her hair off her face, continuing to the door.

Daemon sucked his breath in sharply, the tiny hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. There was so much more to Millicent than he had thought at first, and she had skills he wanted. But that creepy feeling worried him, because he normally only felt it in graveyards and in theaters. The sooner he meditated again, the better.

"Out of my way, old woman," Millicent spat at Ethel, who quickly pressed her back against the wall. As Millicent made to pass her, Ethel stopped her with an arm barring her way. She glanced at Daemon and inclined her head to the green door. He got the hint. As he made for the door, Ethel looked at Millicent, her face like stone, before she dropped her arm.

From the hall, when the door swung back after he passed through it, he saw Ethel grip the back of the nearest chair. This he had to hear. Her voice was low, but because the door was still undulating, he heard her clearly.

"You can insult my age as much as you like, but I'm one of the fortunate few to have been blessed with a long life. It isn't everyone's birthright to grow old."

"You interrupt me to reprimand me? How dare you," Millicent screeched. "Ben will hear of this."

"I hope so, because you're nothing to me, and he needs to know the viper in his nest."

A moment later, Millicent flew past him, heading to the stairs. The hairs on the back of his neck stirred again. Graveyard creeps, and it had something to do with Millicent and the mask she wore. He was convinced she was doing it on purpose, to confuse his search.

Staring after her, he gave Ethel a moment before he palmed the kitchen door open again. "That was an odd thing to say," he said. "May I ask what you meant by it?"

Ethel met his eyes. "Nothing. Only to remind her some people die young. I find her arrogance disturbing, that's all. I don't know what Millicent told you about Roxanne, but you can't find her. Certain things have to happen before she can reveal herself."

"Like what?" When Ethel only stared at him, he knew she had no intention of telling him. But he tried again, a little louder this time. "Ethel, what has to happen first?"

Ethel turned into the pantry. Daemon sighed and allowed the door to swing in the opposite direction. He had to find a way to win Ethel's trust. If he could penetrate her stubbornness and Millicent's mask, he'd have all the answers he needed.

Jess watched Millicent storm through the hall. She was in a proper snit, no mistake, not looking left or right, but went for the stairs, stomping aggressively one step at a time. None of them creaked under her. Clearly, she knew just where to place her feet. Take note of that.

Daemon wasn't long in following. Jess noticed his reluctance. What had happened now?

"Daemon," she called softly. He looked around until he saw her in the study doorway and changed direction to where she was partly hidden in the shadows. "Daemon, I have a question for you. Am I interrupting anything?"

"Nothing that can't wait." He craned his neck around the doorjamb, looking up the staircase. "Millicent, I'll catch up with you in a minute."

"Moira is waiting for you." She was halfway up the stairs, one hand on the balustrade, the other clutching her mobile to her hip.

"I'm sure Moira isn't going anywhere in a hurry. I'll be there soon." He closed the study door as he turned to Jess.

"Will you come with me to Roxanne's room?"

His eyes widened. "I didn't know there was a room in the house dedicated to Roxanne."

"No, it's not like that. Ethel said it was Roxanne's room before her marriage. I discovered it by accident last night. It was strange—I saw someone who looked just like Millicent in the mirror in there, but it wasn't Millicent. And this morning, I couldn't go back in. The sisters are very interested in whatever is in there, too. They all made a turn soon after they arrived here. I want to know what they were looking for. I believe the answers we want are in that room. Will you come?"

"Of course. I knew there had to be another place in the house besides the kitchen where secrets are hidden."

Jess crept up the stairs, careful to tread as close to the wall as she could to prevent creaking. Daemon didn't bother with such precautions, and like Millicent, the floorboards didn't object under his weight, either. Maybe she was trying too hard.

Still pondering this, she nearly reached the landing when a step creaked loudly, the sound echoing throughout the silent house. Glancing back at Daemon, she smothered the urge to laugh as she dashed up the remaining stairs to her door and pressed her back to the panel. Daemon disappeared into the room opposite, but was back a few minutes later with a basket in his hand.

Grinning, he jerked his chin at it. "Essentials."

She noticed his dry dress and fresh pair of sandals, although his hair left a wet ring around his shoulders. The hallway was gloomy and she could hear the sisters talking somewhere.

"Which one is it?" he whispered.

Jess pointed at the last door on the right, then caught a handful of his sleeve as he passed her. "I'm coming with you."

"No, I need to do this on my own. The energies in there will be delicate and I don't want the balance upset, not this close to the portals opening." When she opened her mouth to object—this had been her idea and she had already been in there—Daemon put a finger to his lips. "I'll tell you everything afterward, Jessica."

She held her breath when he turned the doorknob. Nothing growled at him. Then he slipped inside and closed the door soundlessly behind him. Jess resisted the urge to tiptoe forward to press her ear to the panel. But he moved so quietly, there was no point trying to hear anything through the wood.

Chewing her bottom lip, she felt at a loss as to what to do until Daemon was done. If she had her phone, she could have called Sally, who had to be frantic with worry by now.

The sisters' voices drifted down the hallway. She was too far away to make out what they were saying. Pressing her back to the wall, she edged closer to the open door the voices were spilling from. The floorboards, for once, didn't protest under her. Dragging a deep breath into her lungs, she exhaled it slowly before she peeked around the doorjamb.

Moira stood with her back to the door, with Millicent sitting on the bed. Alison was in there somewhere, out of her line of sight.

"Where's that boyfriend of yours you were supposed to go and fetch?"

"Daemon will be here just now, and he isn't my boyfriend," Millicent said.

"Why did you bring him here? We don't need outsiders—"

"Him we do need, to make sure Roxanne doesn't slip past us."

"Why are you in such a mood?" Alison asked.

"That old crone in the kitchen had the audacity to take me on about not respecting her age." When Millicent got up off the bed, Jess jerked her head back, but she heard her mutter, "She couldn't possibly know. Only Roxanne and I knew..."

"What did only you and Roxanne know? What are you not telling me?"

Jess risked another look. The sisters were glaring at each other.

Millicent looked from Moira to where Alison presumably was. "Nothing, or a lot, depending on what you want to know. We're twins. We have many secrets you don't know about." Jess snatched her head back when Millicent sauntered to the door.

"Alison!" Moira barked, followed by fast footsteps and the sounds of a scuffle, and then the door swung shut before Millicent could duck through it.

Jess exhaled sharply.

Jeez, that was close.

But with the door closed, it was more difficult to hear what was going on inside, even when she pressed her ear to the wood.

"You are going to tell me everything about that last day, the time you spent with our sister," Moira said clearly. She must have turned around and now faced the door, if that was where Millicent was. "I want to know what she said, what you said, what you did. I want to know everything." A few moments of silence followed. "You will not leave this room until you have told me everything. And I will know if you're lying or leaving things out, so don't try my patience."

Millicent's voice was muffled, as if she was facing away from the door. Jess had to concentrate hard. "I did nothing. She was upset about Amber, I came over, we talked, I left. There's nothing more to tell."

"Why did she call you and not me or Moira?"

"She didn't call me, Alison. We're twins. We know instinctively when we need each other."

"But you two were always fighting. I'm sure she would have preferred me to come to her," Alison insisted. "She was my sister, too."

"Your sister, not your twin."

"Millicent," Moira cut in again, "I want details, actual words. Start talking."

"No!" Millicent yelled, followed by shuffling, a few thumps on the floor and more shuffling. What were they doing now?

"When did you learn to block me?"

Huh? Block Moira from what?

"I-I didn't. It hurts. You know there is nothing I can do to stop you getting inside my head. Believe me, Moira, that's all there is. We talked about Ben and Amber."

"You and that boyfriend of yours had better not hide things from me. I want to be the first to know anything you find out about Roxanne. Is that clear? And when you find her, you bring her directly to me. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Moi-Ra."

"Good. Work with me here. Ben should be our only concern, Ben and Amber."

"I don't need your permission for anything."

"What?"

"Nothing," Millicent muttered.

"When is that Daemon character coming?" Moira asked.

"When he is good and ready," Millicent snarled, and continued in a more civil tone. "He's a prominent man, Moira. I was lucky to get him to come help me. Personally, I don't see the need for you to interview him. He knows what he has to do, and he reports to me."

"Precisely," Moira hissed. "That's where the information will stop. From now on, he reports to me."

Jess heard the grin when Millicent said, "Good, you can tell him when you meet him. I wonder how that will work out for you?"

Silence followed, then more shuffling.

"Ben promised to marry you in a situation like this. That will dislocate the nanny's nose. I'll tell him the good news tonight, that we will hold him to that promise, should Roxanne for some reason fail to come home."

"He didn't exactly promise, but I can convince him he did."

"And if Roxanne does come back to us?" Alison asked hopefully.

"We'll have to hear what she has to say for herself."

"What if he won't follow your orders, Moira?" Alison pressed. "You heard what he said about making his own decisions."

"He will, or face the consequences. He'll believe it is his own choice. Now we need to talk about Amber. That botched, half-hearted ritual on the day she was born hasn't done her any good. Now she seems to have some sort of disease. She's a precious little girl in desperate need of mothering. You seem to have a knack with her, Alison. You will be the childminder. We need to welcome her into the fold and start teaching her the fundamentals of our culture immediately. She's way too old to be ignorant. We need to keep the nanny and the old woman from interfering."

"Do you think they'll object to her learning from us?" Alison seemed to wonder out loud.

"Most definitely. It's best they don't know what we're doing."

"Leave it to me. I'll prepare the space," Millicent said.

Footsteps approached the door. Startled, Jess shifted her weight too suddenly and the floorboard under her left foot objected loudly.

The doorknob rattled, the door starting to open.

Jess dashed into the room next door.

It was the bathroom Daemon came out of when he gave her such a fright earlier that morning. She closed the door behind her without a sound.

Expecting a commotion, Jess held her breath, but from her hiding place, she heard one set of footsteps passing the door, then silence.

What exactly did they mean by welcoming Amber into the fold? What were they going to teach her? And they weren't even planning on keeping Ben up to speed. Amber was his child, not theirs, but she doubted they'd share confidences or even ask his permission. They had no right to do anything to their sister's child at all.

Jess exhaled her long-held breath. She'd been right—Amber wasn't autistic. It was whatever the sisters had done to the newborn that was the cause of her troubles. How unfortunate could a little girl be to have aunts like Amber's?

Instinctively, Jess knew whatever they planned would only make matters worse for Amber, not better. What did they know about children? Only Alison paid her niece any attention, and she was little more than a child herself.

Jess waited several minutes before she thought it safe enough to leave the bathroom, and headed for the stairs.

Ben entered the kitchen from outside at the same time as she pushed through the inner door. She caught his arm, steering him back outside, a finger across her lips. Once out of hearing from the house, Ben pulled her up against him, hunger in his eyes.

"I have to talk to you," she breathed against his lips.

"Now? Can't it wait?" he asked, but Jess pulled away when he would have kissed her.

"It's important. I have to tell you what I heard the sisters say."

His arms around her were comforting, and she leaned into him even though he lifted a brow at her. "Have you been eavesdropping? That's not nice."

Jess pouted. "I don't care about being nice. Those women haven't been nice to me since they arrived. I had to know what they were up to and they aren't likely to tell me if I asked them, are they? You're going to be given an ultimatum at dinner tonight. You were right, they're going to demand you marry Millicent if Roxanne isn't back from the dead by then, and make you believe you planned it yourself all along. Alison will be Amber's nanny. If you don't play along with their plans, you'll face the consequences."

His teeth closed with a snap. "What consequences?"

"They didn't say, but they can try to take Amber away from you."

"That's what they think. Amber is my child, and I'll leave here with her before I hand her over to them. How are they planning on stopping me?"

"I don't know, but do you know they tried to do something to Amber in the hospital the day she was born? That may be what's causing her strange behavior now. She isn't autistic at all, just as I thought."

"What did they do?"

"That I don't know. Whatever it was, they didn't get to finish it. They're now going to repeat the...what did they call it? A ritual, I think. Yes, that was it. They're going to do a ritual to complete what they should have done that day in the hospital and 'welcome Amber into the fold.' And they are going to teach her something."

Ben frowned. Sounds of movement in the kitchen reached them, and he released her to take her hand. "We need to keep a close eye on Amber," he said in her ear. "I'm glad you're here, Jessica."

She smiled warmly at him, her cheeks flushing with pleasure. About time you realize that.

For lunch, Ethel had the table in the dining room set buffet-style. There were salads, pickled fish, cold cuts of meat and chicken, breads and all sorts of interesting side dishes. Jess' mouth watered, and she realized how hungry she was, even as she marveled at Ethel's stamina. She'd prepared all this food, as well as taking care of Amber. The little girl already had her plate in front of her.

"This looks wonderful, Ethel," Jess said. Ben held her chair for her and sat down between his two girls.

Before Ethel could do more than smile, the sisters entered the dining room.

"Where's Daemon? Has anyone seen him?" Millicent asked as she took her seat.

Daemon stood in the middle of the room, hands on hips. It was gloomy with the drapes closed, but he felt the essence of the woman who once occupied this space, like a tangible thing.

But he picked up on something else, too.

The sisters' effect.

He couldn't differentiate their vibrations, as he had nothing to quantify them with. Unlike Roxanne's, for which he had the pendant.

Closing his eyes, he tried to separate the individual imprints of the sisters on his nerve endings. There was a distinctly negative vibration urging him to leave. That must have been what Jess sensed as a growl when she tried to enter the room this morning.

It wouldn't dare growl at him.

Given the negativity he'd sensed coming from Millicent, he'd say she'd placed it there before the others arrived. The other two sisters' vibes were more benign, questing, searching. They had been looking for something, whereas Millicent protected secrets.

Retrieving his basket from where he'd dropped it by the door, he removed a large salt shaker and a single candle from it.

First of all, he needed to communicate with Roxanne, and then he'd concentrate on the sisters' motivations, particularly Millicent's. To make sure there was no interference, he tipped the salt shaker at arm's length and turned slowly in a circle, letting it flow. The salt settled in a thick layer on the floor around him. When the shaker was empty, he tossed it back into the basket and pulled the pendant out of his pocket, closing his fist around it.

The graveyard across the river materialized out of the swirling mists in his head. The twins sat cross-legged in the dappled sun across the river. Roxanne's face was awash with tears when she looked at her sister. Millicent didn't hide her smile quickly enough and Roxanne saw it.

"I'm so happy to amuse you with my pathetic life and my pathetic, broken child," she hissed, stubbing out her cigarette. Already many butts filled the hollow in the dirt by her knee.

"I assure you I am not amused by any of this. You're the lucky one, remember. Ben chose you."

"Why did you come here today? To gloat because my life is falling apart?" Roxanne lit another cigarette.

"Do you have to?" Millicent said. Roxanne flapped her hand to waft the smoke away from her twin. Mollified, Millicent continued. "I felt your angst. I'm here to help you. Look, I think all you need is some distance to help you find your perspective. Why don't you go for a little drive? You don't need to go far. By the time you get back, you'll feel much better about everything."

Roxanne wiped her face on her sleeve. "I don't know what to do. Everything has gone pear-shaped."

"Maybe it has, maybe it hasn't." Millicent twirled a blade of grass in her fingers.

"I have to tell Ben everything. He deserves to know the truth. This has gone on far too long. I don't want to carry the burden alone anymore."

"Don't you dare say anything to him. You're not carrying anything alone. I'm always here for you. We're in this together, remember?"

"Please, I don't want to lie to him anymore."

Millicent gripped her wrist. "Check your thinking! Decide how you're going to deal with this new obstacle, and carry on as always. You only need time to come to terms with everything, time away, time on your own. You know what they say about time healing everything, and you now need a little you time."

"Yes, you're right. I need to be on my own for a while. I'll go now, immediately." She stubbed her cigarette out and got to her feet, turning for the stepping stones.

Millicent followed her to her feet. "Don't let Ben talk you out of it," she called after her. "You know how reasonable he can be. He doesn't understand you as I do. You need your time on your own."

Roxanne stopped to look back at her twin. "No, I won't let him influence me, not today. You can go home now." Then she ran across the river and up the paddock to the house.

Millicent beamed at her retreating back even as the swirling mists closed in and Daemon blinked the room back into focus.

Millicent! He knew it!

She was responsible for sending Roxanne on the drive that day. She practically forced her sister to go. Why? Was that why she was so desperate to find her sister now? Was her negativity the guilt she was driven by?

Jess scraped the salad left over from lunch into the bin. Those sisters had nothing to be said for them, apart from their physical beauty. They weren't domesticated, that was for sure. As soon as lunch was over, they'd left the kitchen, leaving the cleaning to someone else.

Ethel was too old to wait on so many visitors with no one to help her. As she thought of herself as more than a mere visitor in Ben's house, she'd offered to do the dishes, which had earned her a warm hand-squeeze from Ben.

As she draped the cloth over the tap to dry, Jess heard Amber in the backyard and followed the sound. It was a lovely afternoon, the air crisp and clear after the earlier downpour. She didn't want to spend any more time indoors than she had to.

"The doll isn't dry yet," Ethel insisted over Amber's screaming objection. Turning it over, she re-pegging it to the clothes line.

It was a strange toy, unlike any Jess had seen before. The body was made from stuffed cloth, but the head, arms, and legs were carved from wood. The face was exquisite, framed by a mane of pale-yellow, nylon hair. The doll's resemblance to Amber was uncanny.

"Gimme-gimme-gimme!" Amber screamed. "Mine! Mine!" She pummeled Ethel's legs with her tiny fists, stamping her feet. "Not my mama! Not my mama!"

Ethel gathered the child's fists into one hand. "Stop that," she said. "You can play with the doll when it's dry, not before." She sounded tired and irritable. "Come, it is time for your nap."

"No! Don't want to! Not my mama!" Amber screamed even louder. Ethel turned the child by the shoulders to the house.

Jess smiled as she came to the rescue. "Dolly's still wet, pumpkin. Just a little bit longer in the sun and she'll be dry," she said, holding out her hand to the angry child. "Go have a rest, Ethel. I'll look after Amber."

"But she has to sleep—"

"It won't matter if she misses her nap for once. Come," she said to the child, "let's go see what Daddy is doing. You'll have to show me the way, though. Can you do that?"

Jess glanced at the house. Those sisters professed concern for their problem-ridden little niece, all so eager to come and help after their sister had been gone a whole year, but when they could do something practical for her, like entertaining her for a while, they were nowhere to be seen.

And then there were the questions that had been uppermost in her mind since she heard the sisters talk—what did they do to Amber when she was born? And what were they planning to do now? As Daemon hadn't been seen since he closed the door to Roxanne's room, she was still in the dark about what he might have found in there. In short, she felt jittery with nervous tension.

Amber tucked her hand behind her back when Jess tried to take it, but at least the doll was forgotten for the moment as she trotted around the corner of the house. There was no sign of the dogs now.

A gravel drive Jess hadn't noticed before led from the road to a side entrance, above which a 'Veterinary Clinic' sign swung in the breeze. Amber headed straight for that door. There were no cars in the driveway, so Jess thought it safe to assume Ben was alone in his surgery.

"Are you sure Daddy is here?" she asked. "Are we allowed in?" By the determined way Amber had her tongue between her teeth, that seemed a moot point. The glass front door was unlocked, and the reception area empty.

"Hello," Jess called from the doorway. The smell of antiseptic hung sickeningly in the air. She clamped her hand over her mouth when she gagged, and had to swallow hard, making an effort to breathe evenly through her mouth.

Just as she was about to beat a hasty retreat, Ben appeared around the corner, his hands in surgical gloves held up in front of him. Something plastic, like cling wrap, covered the bandage on his arm.

"Oh," he said. "Amber's not allowed in the clinic, but I haven't told you that, so just this once, come along and I'll show you both around. Then we'll go for an ice cream, okay, Amber?" He pulled the gloves off and popped them into a bin. Jess would have preferred to forgo the guided tour, but Ben had already draped his arm around her waist and was ushering her along.

Blood was so not her thing.

She hung back from the cages, but Amber pressed her nose right up to the mesh while Ben talked about each of his patients. "Every one of those da..." He stopped and glanced at Amber. "Every one of those dogs outside were once a patient of mine."

"Oh? Why are they still here? Why didn't their owners collect them?"

"They were brought in as strays injured on the roads. I have a really hard time putting young, basically healthy, if slightly damaged, animals down. I nursed them back to health, and there you have it, my overly enthusiastic pets."

"You should have taught them some manners," Jess said but grinned to soften her words.

"I know, but being as busy as I am most of the time, I haven't had much success. They aren't bad, just boisterous. It'll be easier for me to teach you how to handle them. As soon as they know you're the boss, you won't have reason to be scared of them. It's a vicious circle. They smell your fear, which makes them bold, which makes you more scared, and so on."

"I see," said Jess, not seeing at all. Dogs had just too many teeth to ever be friends of hers. "Are you planning on keeping me, then?" she couldn't resist asking.

"You're good with Amber, and as I said before, I'd like to offer you the position. Do you think it possible for you and me to revert back to a professional relationship after what we got up to?" He glanced at Amber and when he saw she was still engrossed in the animals, dropped his voice to a whisper. "I don't, because I don't want to. I just can't resist you, Jessica. And I should, for your sake."

"I'm a big girl and I can take care of myself," she whispered back, while pleasure heated her face. "What I don't understand is what it matters if more developed between us. You're a widower and I'm unattached. We're human, Ben, and we're not hurting anyone. It's time to heal thyself, Doctor, and at the same time, to keep those sisters-in-law of yours at bay. Do they all want to marry you?"

"I'm not sure about Moira, but I wouldn't be surprised."

"So good for a man's ego." Jess placed her hand against his chest. The muscles rippled under his shirt, but she sidestepped him when he tried to fold her into his arms.

Grinning, he glanced in his daughter's direction again before he said, "You're forgetting some people around here are of the opinion Roxanne is alive and well, and that she'll be home any time now." He ruffled Amber's hair and led the way back to the reception area. "What I think doesn't seem to matter."

"You forget you're to be Millicent's husband now." Jess grinned.

"That will be the day." His lips pulled into a grim line. "Moira has no conception of love. I'm not a piece of furniture to be passed around her family as the mood takes her. I was married to Roxanne until her untimely death, at which point my association with the Howards ended. I'm a grown man, not a child she can bamboozle into blindly following her orders."

Jess stopped in the middle of the reception area and waited until he noticed she wasn't following him. Amber dashed off the moment he opened the door to let her out, but he turned on the outside step and came back inside, his hand on the door handle, calmly watching for Jess' next move.

"Ben," she started, taking a step closer to him. "Am I to understand you want a repetition of last night?" She angled her head to meet his eyes.

Laughing, he pulled her up against him. "No, I don't want a repetition of last night." He brushed his lips over hers before letting her go and took her hand instead to follow Amber outside. "I don't do one-night stands. I want the all-night version, without the alcohol. Just as long as you don't expect more than I have to give."

Jess dropped her arms to her sides, her chin to her breastbone. It was all about him, him taking what she was prepared to give. Her plan was to take one day at a time, until he couldn't face life without her, but where was she in this equation at present?

Blood pounded loudly in her ears as she tried to come to terms with the dichotomy of what he seemed to think he needed from her, and what she knew she needed from him. When he blew a breath, her chin came up until their eyes met.

"Jess, let's not complicate things. The choice is yours, always, but if I have to, I will behave. Life is about more than sex."

They stared at each other, Jess not sure how they became so serious so quickly. No complications, he'd said. Okay, let him think that.

Hooking his fingers through his belt loops, he said, "Pay no attention to my sisters-in-law. Because they know I like you, they'll try anything to get rid of you."

The ball Amber was tossing to the dogs, having made their appearance again, bounced against the glass door.

They both looked at the child before Jess said, "That's easy for you to say. You aren't on the receiving end."

"They can't hurt you."

"Will you still not consider it the possibility of Roxanne haunting you?"

"No. Are you trying to change the subject?" He steered her out the glass doors with his arm around her. While he was locking the doors, he said, "Jess, I'm only trying to warn you. I don't want you to get hurt." He draped his arm around her again as they walked away from the clinic around the house. Amber and her furry friends dashed past them. "It must be clear that I'm into you, but I don't have it for a relationship."

He sighed as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. "I think a change of scenery will do us all good, and I promised that young lady an ice cream. I'll never live it down if I don't make good on that promise. I would have suggested dinner, but Amber doesn't do restaurants, and I'm not leaving her behind. The three of us will go into town and visit the pharmacy for the makeup I owe you, before the ice cream. For the life of me, I don't understand why you need it, except that without it, you look about as young as Alison. You're a very beautiful woman, Jessica." Watching Amber instructing the dogs to stay as she climbed the stairs and disappeared indoors, he pulled her close. "And hot! Feel what you do to me."

Jess melted against him. "Oh, Ben." She blushed with pleasure. She didn't want to hide her feelings from him, only from those other women. They saw too much. Every girl needed a mask, and mascara and lip gloss happened to be hers.

In the kitchen, Amber sat at the table with a plastic cup when Ben briefly told Ethel the plan. Just then, Jan came in from outside.

"Does anyone know what this is?" he wheezed, a mangled silver and black object in his hand.

"My mobile!" Jess cried. "Where did you find it?" She lifted it with two fingers, much like she had her broken cosmetics the night before.

"It was in the kennel."

She slipped out the SIM card, which was surprisingly still intact, popped it into her pocket and unceremoniously dumped the rest in the bin. "I hoped it would be found in the car." She sank into a chair by the table.

"We'll put a new one on our list. Just give me a moment." Ben disappeared through the inner door.

"Did you have a rest, Ethel?"

"I had a nice cup of tea downstairs and put my feet up, thank you, dear."

That wasn't enough, Jess thought, but let it go. "Is Amber ready?"

"Of course she is. It will do the child good to get away from that lot." Ethel pointed a bent finger at the ceiling. "They're not good for her. Amber is an old soul."

"A what?" Jess asked, goosebumps lifting the little hairs on her arms.

The old woman shrugged when Ben swung Amber onto his shoulders. All the way into the village of Wellington, Ethel's words bothered Jess. What was an old soul? How could Amber be one? She was only four years old.

Ben pulled up outside a drug store on the main street and rounded the Pajero to open the door for Jess before he released his daughter from the safety seat in the back. "You should be able to find some of the things you need in there. See you in a moment. Amber and I are popping across the street," he said, taking the little girl's hand in his.

Amber snatched her hand away and tucked it behind her back.

"Give me your hand, Amber. Walk with Daddy, there's a good girl." Ben caught her by the shoulders a moment before she dashed off out of his reach, and took her hand firmly in his.

Smiling, Jess watched the pair's progress across the road, while Amber tried unsuccessfully to pull her hand out of Ben's. When they reached the sidewalk on the other side and Ben released her, Amber ran in tight circles around her father, flapping her hands by her ears. He glanced across the street, shrugged his shoulders and picked up his daughter, whispering something in her ear before he kissed her cheek.

Jess had a small pile of cosmetics on the counter before she saw Ben and Amber again. The change in the sales assistant when she saw Ben enter the store and realized he was with Jess, was instant. Where she'd been efficient if not overly friendly before, now she was almost simpering.

Ben didn't seem to notice the woman's batting eyes and come-hither smiles while he eyed the pile on the counter. "Are you sure you have everything you need?" he asked with a raised brow, handing a credit card to the sales lady.

"How's my pop?" she asked Ben as she ran the plastic.

"Fine, the last time I checked," he replied before he lifted the shopping bag off the counter. "Good grief, what is in here that is so heavy?"

Jess laughed and, her arm through his, took Amber's hand. "Essentials," she said. "I didn't take you for a weakling."

He gave her an exasperated look. "I'll show you later how weak I am, but this bag is heavy. I was just wondering if I'll be able to see your beautiful face under this lot."

Jess giggled as he steered her and Amber to the car.

As soon as they were all strapped into their seats, Ben looked at Amber in the rearview mirror as he started the powerful engine. "Where shall we have that ice cream of yours, Amber?" She ignored him. "The lagoon," he answered for her.

"Lagoon?" Jess asked. "In Wellington?"

"It's more like a man-made pond. The ducks are the main attraction. There used to be fish in there, but they either died or were caught. Now only the ducks remain."

"Don't mess, Jess, don't mess, Jess. Daddy wash Jess in the la, la, la, lagoon," Amber chanted from the back seat.

Jess grinned at the image of herself tucked under Ben's arm while he scrubbed her face in the dirty water. Interesting, definitely an interesting idea and she'd kill him if he tried, but she only permitted herself to say, "I'll be careful."

Her eyes promised him something completely different. Ben's lips opened when he dragged a breath in over them, his eyes glittering.

"Woman!" he hissed.

She turned her head to look at Amber, trying to ignore the heat pooling low in her belly, but the girl stared straight ahead at the back of Jess' seat.

Jess and Ben shared a worried look. She didn't need to point out that Amber was regressing rapidly. Yesterday she'd seemed like a nearly normal four-year-old with bouts of odd behavior, but as the day progressed, she was displaying more and more of the full spectrum of symptoms that had led to the autism diagnosis.

Twenty minutes later, the three of them walked along the water's edge, each with an ice cream cone in hand. Ben indicated a bench close by.

"Is the woman in the shop a friend of yours?" Jess asked in an attempt to ease the worry around Ben's eyes.

"Not really," he said, licking ice cream from his upper lip. Jess followed the tiny movement with her eyes. "I've known Lettie for many years—she's Jan's great-granddaughter."

"Has there been no special lady in your life since Roxanne?"

"Not until you fell on top of me. Since the accident, every unattached woman around seems to have become interested in me, one way or the other. They all seem to think I'm more of a catch than I actually am."

"You should have taken some of them up on what was offered. It isn't good for a man to be alone for so long. You should have played a little. No wonder you were grinding your teeth so much when I first arrived."

"What?"

Jess giggled. "Nothing. No other form of...ah...relief?"

"What? I don't believe you just asked me that." He grinned at her, shaking his head. "I don't believe we're having this conversation."

"Answer the question." She nudged his ribs.

"No, not since I was a schoolboy. I always thought that's like cheating, don't you? And it's an empty satisfaction. Would it have made me grind my teeth less, do you think?" They both chuckled. "And about the interest I got from the local gals, you know the saying about messing on one's own doorstep. Too many complications, even if I were looking for a woman, which I wasn't."

"You're not gay, are you?" Jess' eyes twinkled.

Ben barked a laugh and gave her a quick hug. "Jessica James, you are a rare treat. Go on, you tell me. Am I?"

Jess joined his laughter and shook her head. "No, I don't think so. And I'm relieved you didn't take any of the women up on their offers. I'd have hated to have to fight a bunch of amorous women for your attention."

"You have my full attention, you know that, until my in-laws go home." He put a finger across her lips to stop her arguing, and changed the subject. "I have something for you." Pulling a small box out of his pocket, he said, "I hope this will be good enough to replace the one my dogs ate."

"Ben, you shouldn't have. Thank you so much." She handed her cone to him to hold so she could pull the cellophane off the smartphone box. "It's so much better than my Blackberry." She took the SIM card from her pocket and slipped it into its slot.

"I should hope so, the darn thing cost me enough." He took her elbow to say in her ear, "It's going on your bill."

Excitement pulled her stomach into a knot. She couldn't wait.

Grinning, she reclaimed her ice cream, when the phone rang. "Wow, that was quick," she said, glancing at the screen. It displayed Sally's number.

Oh heck, she'd forgotten all about Sally. She had to be frantic with worry, but Jess killed the call. She couldn't explain the situation to her now, not with Ben listening. She'd have to call her back later, when she was alone.

The phone pinged several more times as messages were delivered to the inbox.

"Wow, busy phone," Ben said with a grin. "Popular girl."

"That's why I left it in the car yesterday. I couldn't take this noise into an interview." Her chuckle was cut short when Amber gasped.

The ice cream had toppled off her cone and lay puddled in the grass by her feet. Her dress bore the evidence of its passing. "Never mind sweetie, it was an accident." Jess already had a tissue in her hand. "Here, you can have mine."

Amber pulled her shoulders up and sidestepped Jess. She didn't look at the ice cream, but plunked herself down on the grass and flapped her hands in front of her face.

"Leave it," Ben said softly. "Only soap and water will do the job, anyway. She's not having a good day."

"Her routine has been disrupted by all the visitors."

"What can I do?" Ben asked desperately.

Jess sat down on the grass next to Amber and held her cone out to the child. Without looking at it, Amber took it. Ice cream dripped over her hand and from the bottom of the cone onto the grass.

Ben hunkered down on her other side. "Eat your ice cream, honey, it's melting. No? Let's go home, then." He took the soggy cone from Amber's hand and disposed of the mess in the nearest can.

Back at Weltevreden, Jess took Amber's hand as soon as Ben lifted her from the safety seat and allowed him to steer her to the kitchen door.

"Sorry, Ethel, we had a bit of a disagreement with an ice cream cone," Jess whispered.

"It's time for her bath, anyway. Come on, sweeting. You're tired because you didn't have your nap this afternoon. It'll be an early night for you." Ethel lifted Amber into her arms.

Ben handed Jess her shopping bag and she followed the old woman up the stairs. On the landing, she paused to listen to the house. She could hear Amber's bath running and Ethel's constant stream of babbling, but that was all.

Then Roxanne's door swung open and Daemon started down the hall toward her. She waited for him in front of her door. "Have you been in there all this time?" she asked as he reached her. He looked tired and wrinkled. "Did you discover anything?"

"Yes, I did." He glanced over his shoulder, but they were quite alone. "Roxanne's private space was the ideal place for me to meditate in. I felt so close to her in there. I'm starving."

"You missed lunch, but did you find out anything useful?"

"Oh, yes." He broke off when footsteps approached and Millicent appeared.

"What's going on here?" she demanded.

"We're just talking, Millicent," Daemon said smoothly.

"What have you told her?" She glared at Jess, then turned on Daemon. "Where have you been all this time, anyway?"

"Millicent, you asked me to help you find your sister, and that's what I've been doing. I've been meditating in Roxanne's room. I'm finally beginning to make progress."

"No one but family is allowed in there. You should have...told me. Come with me. Moira has been kept waiting long enough."

Had she been about to say Daemon should have asked her permission first?

"You put the idea of going for a drive into Roxanne's head," Daemon said. "You sent her away. Why did you do that, Millicent?"

Her eyes flicked in all directions to avoid his.

"Well?" He crossed his arms over his chest. Jess discreetly stepped into the shadows of her room, hoping Millicent would forget she was there and speak freely.

"How do you know that?" Millicent hissed.

"I told you, I meditated in Roxanne's room. I saw you two across the river a year ago, on the day Amber was diagnosed. I heard ou prompt her to go for a drive. It was you who gave her the idea. Why didn't she come home, Millicent?"

"She crashed. I really thought a bit of time away would help her to settle down. She was so distraught, she scared me."

"You made quite an issue of the time thing. What did she want to tell Ben? I knew there was more to your request for help than you told me. I'll meditate in there again, and eventually I'll know exactly what happened that day."

Millicent stared at him for a moment before she turned. "Come with me, now," she demanded over her shoulder.

Daemon frowned as he followed her into the room opposite the one he had just exited, the same room the sisters had been arguing in. As before, Jess tiptoed to the open door and pressed her back to the wall. She couldn't risk peeking into the room.

"What have you done so far to find Roxanne?" She recognized Moira's voice.

"I don't answer to you. What I do and how I do it has nothing to do with you. I'm here only as a favor to Millicent." Daemon sounded thoroughly irritated. "And you are?"

"Not that it is any concern of yours, I'm Moira Howard, the oldest sister. Everything you do in this house is very much my business."

"I thought it is Ben's house," he said.

A pause punctuated by shuffling sounds followed. Jess wished she could risk a peek to see what was going on.

"The house is his only by right of his marriage to my sister. As Roxanne isn't here, I'm in charge. Now, tell me what I want to know. Where is Roxanne?"

"She doesn't want you to know." It sounded as if Daemon was grinning. Was he deliberately taunting Moira?

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Only that she'll show herself when the time is right—for her. She doesn't care about your plans."

"When will that be?"

"When the portals are fully open, and that can only happen at the end of a sequence of events and a set period of time."

Footsteps, coming to the door. Oh crap!

"I'm not done with you yet," Moira snarled.

"But I'm done with you." Daemon came marching out of the room.

Jess' relieved exhale turned into a gasp when he gripped her upper arm and pulled her along on his way to the stairs. She had to quickstep to keep up with him. They were halfway down when Millicent appeared on the landing and hurried down after him. He released Jess, turning to face Millicent while Jess continued down to wait for him in the hall.

"Dae, you shouldn't have spoken to her like that," she said as soon as she caught up with him. "Daemon, stop. We don't want to make Moi angry. What did you mean by 'sequence of events'?"

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his black robe as he looked up at her. "There is nothing to tell. I have to go back to Cape Town. You will drive me after dinner."

Ben was in his study when Jess and Daemon entered. With one look at Daemon, he said, "That bad, huh?"

Jess hovered in the doorway, glancing back up the stairs. Millicent hadn't followed them. The woman was beginning to give her the heebie-jeebies.

Daemon dragged his fingers through his hair. "And then some. Moira is the worst. Have you ever come across a more overbearing wench? Ben, I need to talk to you."

Chuckling, Ben closed his laptop and pushed away from his desk. "Let's go have a beer out back."

"Can I come?" Jess asked.

"Of course," Ben said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pressing his lips to her hair. They went through the empty kitchen and out the back door, where he unfolded a deck chair for Jess.

Minutes later, the men slouched on the stairs nursing beers, while Jess with a glass of wine in her hand, felt pleasantly relaxed. She listened to the men with half an ear, not really paying attention. The afternoon sun had disappeared behind the mountains and the shadows had grown long.

"I know where your wife is," Daemon suddenly blurted. That got Jess' undivided attention. "I sense her strongly in your kitchen."

"What are you talking about?" Ben sighed. "You mean, you feel her presence?" When Daemon nodded, Ben got up and went into the house. It sounded as if he was making a thorough search of the kitchen. All the while, Daemon kept his eyes on his beer.

The noise stopped before Ben came back. "You might as well tell me the stairway to heaven starts in the kitchen, because she isn't there now."

"Of course she isn't, but she used to live here, therefore her vibrations are lodged in the structure of the house. Ben, come sit down and listen. I sense her essence in the house, and she is trying to communicate. She's here, even if we can't see her."

Sitting down, Ben covered his eyes with his hand before glancing at Jess, then glared at the strange man. "How can she be here and not here? Unless she's a ghost." He brought his beer to his lips but did not drink. "Is that what you mean?" He rested the can on his knee. "Forgive me if I'm skeptical, Daemon, but I'm a realist. I deal strictly in what I can see and touch. This is just too weird for me. Jessica claims to see visions and ghosts as well."

Daemon glanced at Jess. "You seem to be under some sort of psychic attack, Jessica. We must compare notes when I'm back from Cape Town." He paused for a sip. "I don't trust what I see at the moment. I don't want to say too much until I've verified certain facts, but I'm sure of two things. The first is that Roxanne didn't crash in the late afternoon as you believe she did, but at dawn the following day. The other involves Millicent."

Ben frowned. "Is the time of the crash important?"

"Not to Roxanne or you, perhaps, but definitely to the sisters."

"What about Millicent?"

"For some reason she is lying about her relationship with her sister. She is driving me back to Cape Town after dinner. The sooner I get there, the sooner I can be back with a solution for you. But on the way, I might get to the bottom of what she's up to."

"Do you believe Roxanne is alive, Daemon?"

Daemon studied the mountain. It wore a cap of cloud. "I'd rather not speculate, if you don't mind. I give you my word, though, that I shall find a way to bring your wife back to the world you're in. There is something I need you to do while I'm gone. Are you up for it?"

"As long as it doesn't involve talking to ghosts."

"It kinda does, but you can do it after Amber's bedtime. I want you to concentrate on your life with Roxanne. I need you to remember the moment you were most connected. It might take you a while to find that special moment. I need you to mark the emotions and hold onto everything you felt."

Ben exhaled harshly. "I said goodbye to my wife. This is going to hurt."

"I know, but it is crucial to bringing Roxanne back. I might have to drag her through a portal with the aid of your memory."

Ben got to his feet. "Have you told the sisters what you plan to do?"

"No. And I don't intend to."

"There you are," Millicent purred behind them. Ben and Daemon looked at each other and then back at her.

Jess glanced at the men before studying Millicent's face. How much did she hear? The beautiful visage gave nothing away. She guarded her feelings too well.

"I've been looking everywhere for you two," Millicent simpered.

Ben composed his face as best he could. "Why did you do that? We were right here all the time."

Jess knew skepticism when she saw it. Poor man. Ben wasn't in a good place and this was very personal. She felt for him.

Millicent smiled. "Smartass." She looked at Daemon and back at Ben. "I told you my sister wasn't dead."

Ethel appeared beside Millicent and pushed the screen door open. "Come along now, dinner is served."

Jess glanced at Ethel. Her eyes glittered in the half-light, making Jess shiver. Ethel was giving her the heebie-jeebies, too.

The dining room was crowded that night. The sisters took the seats at the bottom end of the table, Moira opposite Ben at the head of the table, and Alison next to Amber, leaving Daemon to take his place between Millicent and Jess. As before, the place on Ben's left was set, the chair balancing on two legs against the table.

Something sinister tickled down Jess' spine. Ben hadn't heard a single word she'd said about the ghost-at-the-table routine.

They were barely seated when Ethel wheeled the drinks cart into the room and left it close to Ben's chair. She put the crystal bell in Amber's hand, but tonight she didn't grip it, but stared blankly at the placemat. This child was a mere shadow of the little girl Jess had met only yesterday. She felt so helpless.

Ben had barely taken his seat after serving everyone a glass of wine, when the door swung open and a pretty Malay girl of about eighteen came in bearing plates of soup. It was good to see Ethel had help tonight, Jess thought as she watched the women being served first, starting with Moira, Ben and Daemon last.

Amber flapped her hands in front of her face.

"Sweetness, the grace," Ben prompted, pressing the little hands to the table to still their frantic movement. His smile vanished when he glanced around the table.

Jess lowered her head, peeking around the table through her lashes when Amber rattled, "For-us-what-receive-we're-about-to-truly-amen-the-Lord-may-receive-thankful."

Ben met her eyes. Amber was in trouble. She had all the right words, but the order was scrambled, not making any sense whatsoever. Alison scowled deeply at Daemon across the table, while the two other sisters glared at the child. "That was lovely, honey," Ben said, patting her hand.

"Only a doting father would think that nonsense good enough," Moira muttered as she turned her attention to her plate.

Ignoring her, Ben said, "Eat your dinner, sweetheart. Ethel has a lovely dessert for you if you eat up." Amber lifted her spoon, but didn't seem to know how to use it. Soup spilled all over the front of her dress.

Jess quickly rounded the table to tie a napkin around Amber's neck. "Don't worry about the mess, love. Do you want me to help you?" Amber nearly fell off her chair in her effort to avoid her touch.

"Leave her, Nanny. If she doesn't know how to use cutlery at her age, she should be fed in the kitchen," Moira declared. Both her sisters nodded in unison. "That must prove to you that we are justified in demanding control of our niece."

"There was nothing wrong with Amber's development before you lot arrived uninvited. You upset her routine. Please, everyone, enjoy your meal and leave Amber to me."

Jess returned to her seat and tried not to look at the beleaguered child too often. She could help, but Ben was stubborn to a fault. It would have been better if Ethel had kept Amber in the kitchen tonight.

Jess leaned close to Daemon. "You know Alison hasn't taken her eyes from you since the beginning of the meal, don't you?"

"Yes, she is trying to read my thoughts. She won't get information from me that way. I have her firmly locked out."

After the soup plates were replaced with the main meal, Jess leaned over to Daemon again. "Daemon, what is an old soul?"

"An old soul is one who has been through many incarnations and is either at the end, or very close to the end, of the learning cycle. After the incarnation it is in, it would be given the choice of starting the process again, or to become a spirit guide to other souls in need."

Jess gaped at him. Wow. "So being an old soul has nothing to do with the chronological age of the person here and now?"

"No, not at all."

"Does the soul retain the knowledge from previous lives?"

"Yes, but it isn't readily accessible in subsequent incarnations. Why do you ask?"

"Ethel told me Amber is an old soul." They both looked at the little girl.

Amber's head was bent, her hands flapping over her food without touching or looking at it. Suddenly she stopped and as Jess watched, a carrot roundel floated off the plate into Amber's open mouth.

"Amber, stop playing with your food," Moira said sharply.

Amber ignored her aunt. Jess had a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach as she glanced at Ben. Did he know Amber could do that?

Ben cleared his throat and rested his cutlery against the side of his plate. "Moira, Millicent, Alison, apart from it being a year since Roxanne's death, is there another reason for you all being here?"

The sisters looked at each other before Moira said, "We realize our timing is inconvenient for you." Her eyes flicked to Jess, then back to Ben. "Of course there is a reason for us all to be here at the same time. A family matter, nothing to concern yourself with."

"Moira, as this is my house, it concerns me very much what you're up to. What family matter are you talking about?"

The sisters' eyes again briefly met. "There is the matter of Roxanne's continued absence. And the fact that you can't be left alone any longer."

"Really? And this is for you to decide?" Ben met Jess' eyes. The corner of his mouth tweaked, as if he found this conversation rather amusing. "What is your plan?"

Moira slowly chewed a morsel of food and swallowed, her gaze resting on Ben. She took care to place her cutlery exactly in the center of her plate. "Anyone can see you need help with the little one. Ethel is too old now, poor dear. Why won't you allow us to help you? We're related, after all."

Ben frowned at her. "You see, Moira, I'm not at all sure of your motivations, and that worries me. Maybe you could explain what kind of help you have in mind?"

Moira crossed her arms on the table. "Of course. It will be my pleasure. You see, if Roxanne isn't home soon, we think it best for you to marry Millicent."

Ben laughed. "Oh, really? Just like that? And here I was under the impression the whole purpose for being here this weekend was to bring Roxanne home. What is the point of even discussing me marrying again?"

"This is no laughing matter, Ben," Moira said. "We have to take care of your needs as well as Amber's future by any means available to us."

"You have to take care of?" Ben wasn't laughing now. "Don't you think that rather presumptuous of you? Explain what exactly it is you think you have to do." His words were clipped and precise.

"Amber has to be brought up by a female member of our family, who will instruct her in our ways." Moira pushed her chair away from the table and got to her feet. "You don't need to concern yourself with the details, Ben. This is women's work, and we are more than capable of taking care of it. This really has nothing to do with you."

Ben slammed both palms on the table as he shot to his feet. The wineglasses danced on the table. "Nothing to do with me!" he thundered. When Amber started to whimper, he touched her hair as he deliberately lowered his voice. "Jess, please take Amber upstairs."

Noo! I need to hear this!

But she rounded the table and held her hands out to the child, who went into her arms as if relieved to be leaving the adults. Jess cupped the back of the little head in her palm as Amber snuggled into her neck.

Ethel intercepted her in the hall. The gnarled old hand gripped her wrist as she was about to pass. "Don't worry about the child. I taught her to make things fly. It's only a silly little game." When she took Amber from Jess, Amber hid her face in the old neck. "You must beware of the shadows tonight," she whispered urgently. "And remember, no matter what, nothing is what it seems. I'll take the little miss up to bed. Keep your ear to the ground."

A silly little game to make things levitate? Jess couldn't decide what was worse, having been taught the trick or having the natural ability. It was strange that Amber hadn't lost that skill along with the rest of her development. This was beyond creepy.

Jess hovered outside the doorway, unnoticed by anyone in the dining room, when Ben continued with more control. "Moira, you don't get to snap your fingers and expect me to dance. If you think for one moment I am going to allow you to usurp my position as Amber's parent, you are more deluded than I thought. By the same token, I will not marry Millicent or any other Howard woman on your say-so. Is that understood? And I will do for Amber what I think best, so no teaching will take place, is that clear? The three of you might as well go home. Roxanne is still dead, so your mission has been unsuccessful. And now none of you are welcome in my home."

Moira met his eyes without flinching. "Calm down, Ben. You can't throw us out and you know it."

"I think you will find that I can, and believe me, I am."

She turned from the table. "We don't need your permission, or even your cooperation, for what needs to be done here, and we will leave when we are good and ready. Come, girls."

Foreboding filled Jess' chest as she stood aside to let the sisters pass. When Ben took her hand, she felt the tremor in his.

The sisters had brought an atmosphere into the house and Jess couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to happen, something dark and sinister. Ethel's words didn't help, either.

Daemon joined them in the hall.

Ben excused himself for his clinic rounds. "I'll be as quick as I can," he said close to Jess' ear.

Lucky him, to be spared the company of his in-laws. She and Daemon reluctantly followed the sisters into the lounge, where a tray was waiting. To give herself a purpose for being there, Jess poured the coffee, just as Millicent made for the door. "You lot be good while I'm gone. Come, Daemon, if we're going, let's be on our way." She wriggled her fingers at the occupants of the lounge.

"Right," Daemon said. "The sooner we leave, the sooner we can be back with a plan."

When they were gone, Jess was alone with Moira and Alison, but, as promised, Ben didn't take long over his rounds at all, and settled himself in his usual chair, from where he could observe the two sisters without having to turn his head. Jess handed him a cup of coffee and perched on the edge of the couch nearest him. For several moments, the only sound was the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall.

"So, Daemon claims to have found Roxanne," Moira said, smiling at Jess. "That makes you rather superfluous around here, doesn't it? My sister will be home soon and I doubt she'd appreciate coming face to face with Ben's indiscretion. Thank you for being here to help, but we understand you have better things to do."

"Now that Ben's back, you're suddenly speaking to me?" Jess queried.

Ben touched her arm. "Moira, this is still my house and Jess is my guest."

Patting his hand on her arm, Jess said, "Moira, you know what? I'd rather like to meet Roxanne, so I think I'll stay."

There were footsteps in the hall, and a moment later Millicent sank into the opposite corner of the couch, and folded her hands in her lap over her ever-present mobile. Her beautiful face was set—she looked like a sleepwalker.

Ben rested his elbows on his knees to lean toward her. "I know it won't help, Millicent, but when a relationship is wrong, it's best to end it as soon as possible. You'll meet someone new."

Jess glared hard at him, trying to catch his eye, to communicate he was on the wrong page about Millicent's relationship with Daemon, but he ignored her.

Wait. Wasn't Millicent driving Daemon to Cape Town? What happened now? Where was Daemon?

Ben sat back, puzzlement pulling his brows together as he started at the three sisters.

They all had vacant expressions on their faces, and were staring into space. Man, these women were weird.

A cold finger traced Jess' spine and she shivered as she glanced at Ben. His lips were slightly parted, looking as baffled as she was. The minutes ticked by until Ben got up. "I have things to do," he muttered.

"Can I come with you?" Jess asked softly.

"Of course. I wasn't about to leave you alone with this bunch. Come." He held his hand out for her to precede him. In the study, he sat down heavily behind his desk. "I might as well do that thing Daemon asked me to do, but I'm not looking forward to it."

"I'm sure Daemon wouldn't have asked if he didn't think it necessary." Jess curled up in a winged chair facing the desk. "I'll be very quiet."

Nodding, he closed his eyes and leaned his head against the high back of his chair.

Jess couldn't keep her eyes off him. His mouth was set in a soft line, giving no indication of his thoughts. She wasn't sure she liked this. It felt like being an unwilling and unwelcome spectator.

The most obvious place to find the connection with Roxanne would be in bed, making love. Ben lifted an eyelid to look at Jess. Her eyes were steady on his face. God, she was beautiful, so completely the opposite of Roxanne. He had the feeling those keen gray eyes could see directly into his mind.

It would be better if he didn't look at her, but he couldn't wrench his eyes away. He had to concentrate if he was to finally put Roxanne to rest and move on.

Closing his eyes, he returned to the picture in his mind, of Roxanne lying on her side, facing away from him. Her hair was in glorious disarray around her shoulders. Her nightie had slipped off her shoulder, leaving a generous amount of creamy white skin bare. Her breathing was even, although he knew she wasn't asleep.

In his mind's eye, he reached for her. The skin on her shoulder was cold to his touch. He scooted closer, until he was pressed against her back. Only then did he circle her body with his arm. She didn't respond in any way.

After a few moments, her skin warmed and he moved his hand to her neck. Her head shifted a fraction, to give him better access. He grinned as he pressed his lips to the hollow below her ear, his hand sliding down her front, pushing the nightie before it.

She didn't respond when he captured her breast in his palm. He continued his downward quest, pushing the nightie to her waist and splayed his hand on her stomach to try to roll her onto her back. In that moment his desire was fierce. Blood pounded in his ears.

Roxanne didn't budge.

"Come on, sweetheart," he coaxed hoarsely. "Please?"

But instead of rolling onto her back, she shrugged him off and rolled onto her front instead.

Ben remembered the plopping sound his hand made when it dropped to the mattress between them, the frustrated breath leaving him like he had been punched in the solar plexus. His desire had died an instant death.

On his back, he'd clasped his hands on his forehead and stared at the dark ceiling for a long time.

Opening his eyes now, he swept the study and shifted in his chair, feeling the rejection as keenly as if it had happened a few moments ago. Jess was still staring at him, eyes soft and shiny. Thank God she hadn't been able to see what he'd just dredged up.

That moment in bed with Roxanne wouldn't do. He'd felt no connection with his wife. Why did his memory bring that night up now? They had had good, fulfilling sex, passionate and tender. He rested his elbows on the desktop, his gaze drifting unseeing around the familiar room.

Come on, give me one of the good ones, he commanded his subconscious.

But a thought had gotten stuck in his mind and he could do nothing but acknowledge it. Rejection in bed had not been a once-off, it had been the norm. If he hadn't been so infatuated with his beautiful wife, he'd have realized they had a problem from the very beginning. Their love had been real, he knew Roxanne had been as much in love with him as he with her. She just hadn't liked sex very much. He couldn't hold that against her.

He was going to have to find that connection between them outside their bedroom. There had been that happy day when he had taken her to the ballet. She'd loved the ballet. As a child, she'd told him, she'd wanted to be a professional dancer. Personally, he had no idea if the performance that night had been any good, so he'd stared at his wife's face, instead. She had been enraptured, totally absorbed from the moment the curtains went up.

Once he had tried to take her hand, but she'd pulled it away, copying a move from the dance in the dark. He'd grinned at the time, pleased with himself for providing her with such pleasure. For him, being there to experience it with her had been enough.

He shifted in his chair. It had been a good night until the aftermath. On the way home, Roxanne had babbled non-stop about the dance, about this dancer's technique, and about the choreography of specific scenes. It had been enough to hear her so excited, but it had all gone over his head, and left him feeling excluded, and not at all connected to her.

Shaking his head and rubbing both hands over his face, he stood up and stretched. This was not going to be easy at all. But there had to have been something he could home in on.

They had been happily married, hadn't they?

He was sure she felt the same. Had she?

Then why could he only find instances of her rejecting and excluding him from her life?

There was the time he'd found her in the kitchen, staring at the wall. That was before Amber was born. He'd come up from the clinic and washed his hands in the sink as usual. He'd been grinning as he started telling her something amusing that had happened during consultation. In the middle of his story, in the middle of a sentence, she had got up from the table and walked out of the kitchen.

Damn.

Roxanne had loved him!

What about the wedding night?

No, after the wedding from hell, Roxanne's nerves had rubbed off on him. She'd told him, in so many words, through her clenched teeth, that they had to do it, to seal the vows. That had hurt him so much at the time, he could barely get it up.

And it had turned out to be an event he'd rather forget. Their first time together, it had been all elbows and knees, he'd been mechanical and she unresponsive. He'd been glad when it was over. The back seat of his jalopy had not been the most romantic place to spend their wedding night.

And when she discovered she was pregnant? Again, what should have been a happy, tender moment between husband and wife, had turned into a nightmare. He had allowed the hurt to fade, because he had wanted it to. He put the blame at his own feet every time. It was him who had misunderstood—she'd never meant it the way he took it.

Why was he only remembering times when Roxanne had hurt him?

Why couldn't he remember happy moments?

If she'd rejected him every time, he would have noticed, wouldn't he? Even through the rosy haze of love.

Maybe, in all fairness to Roxanne, his memories were skewed by her prolonged absence or by the influence of her sisters. Or maybe he was viewing his marriage remotely through another rosy lens of his attraction to Jess.

Or maybe it was precisely because of the time without Roxanne that he could see her and their relationship clearly for what it was. He might have to accept that she never loved him, but he could never forget the way he'd felt about her. He had mourned her death and he still felt the loss, even though the last words she'd said to him in this life had been I hate you.

Was she really dead, as he believed? Or was everyone else correct, that she was still alive somewhere? Did she stage that car crash to get away from him?

Ben pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it. No, he'd never believe that.

They had been in love.

They had been happy together.

Jess jerked upright when the silence was broken by heavy pounding on the front door. Ben opened his eyes and turned to stare into the hall. The knocking was repeated before he got up and left the study. Jess followed as far as the doorway.

Turning the porchlight on, he flung the front door wide. A uniformed policeman stood next to a disheveled Daemon under the light, the dogs growling from the corner of the house, not venturing closer. Behind them in the driveway, a squad car's blue light circled slowly.

"Dr. Arnold, I'm sorry to bother you so late. May we come in?"

Ben stood aside and glanced at the grandfather clock. "It's not late. What's going on, Officer? Daemon, I thought you had to get back to Cape Town urgently."

The policeman glanced at the blood seeping through the bandage on Ben's arm. "A little maintenance problem," Ben said. "Old houses. Nothing we can't handle by ourselves." He turned to Daemon, taking in the man's physical state. "What happened to you? Are you hurt?"

Daemon cleared his throat. "There's been, uh, I was going to say there's been an accident, but it doesn't seem to be the right word. I have bad news. It's Millicent. She's dead." He bent slightly forward, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.

Ben gripped his shoulder, his eyes flicking to the policeman and back. "What are you talking about? Millicent isn't dead. What do you mean, Millicent's dead? You're not making any sense."

"Sir, it would seem that the young woman ran her car into a ditch." The officer looked from Daemon to Ben.

"When the flames were put out, she was gone. Her body was nowhere to be found." Uncertainty had crept into Daemon's eyes. "The police searched the area with dogs. There was no sign of her, no footprints or anything to indicate she got away. Just like her sister a year ago," he muttered, wiping his knuckles under his eyes. "Does that seem odd to anyone but me?"

Ben glanced at the police officer then back at Daemon. "You're not making any sense. What flames? Police with dogs? Daemon, take a deep breath, then tell me what you're on about."

When the officer raised a brow, Daemon firmly closed his mouth. "Sir, apparently there was a woman in the car when it hit the bank, so it's reasonable to assume she was still in the vehicle when it burst into flames. No one could have survived the flames. From Mr. Noble's statement, it would seem she tried to run him over and killed herself, instead."

"You think Millicent was with you?" Ben frowned at the floor between his bare feet. "You saw this wreck for yourself, Officer?" He glanced askance at the policeman.

"Yes sir, me and about ten other officers, the emergency crews and passersby." The policeman looked hard at Ben. "The accident really did happen, sir. I believe the young lady's name was..." He consulted his notepad. "Miss Millicent Howard." Then he turned to Daemon with a raised brow.

There was scuffing in the hall behind Ben. When he turned, Moira and Alison were huddled in the lounge doorway. Millicent said from his other side, "Why were you searching for me? I'm right here. You knew that." She leaned against the stairs, her arms crossed.

Jess gasped. That woman had not crossed the hall. From her position in the study doorway, she had a clear view from the front door to the doors into the kitchen and the lounge, and she knew Millicent had not crossed the hall.

Daemon spun around. Blood drained from his face as he stared at Millicent. His mouth opened and closed, yet no sound came from him.

Her half-closed eyes settled on Daemon's face. "You're upset because you thought I was dead? That's so sweet."

Even Ben looked startled to see her there. Hadn't the plan been for her to drive Daemon to Cape Town? Then she would have been in the car with him. But she'd been in the lounge the whole time.

The cop cleared his throat. "Are you Miss Howard?"

"Yes, I am," Millicent said with a bright smile. "And I assure you, Officer, I'm not even a little bit dead. I didn't think I'd see you before morning, Dae. You were only gone for about ten minutes," she pouted prettily. "You must have bumped your head. That's why you're feeling disoriented. Come, have some wine."

Daemon was still doing the fish impersonation. "Ten minutes? It's been at least two hours. You were in the car with me. You were driving, I saw you with my own eyes. You said you didn't need me anymore, then you went a bit daft, ordered me out the car and tried to run me over. Instead, you crashed into a ditch. You had blood running down the side of your face. You died when your car burst into flames. You died. How can you be back here unharmed?"

"My car burned?" Millicent rushed to the front door and stared out through the mesh. Then she beamed a smile at the people in the hall. "No, it didn't, you silly man. There it is, safe and sound on the side of the house. Daemon, I never left here, don't you remember? We said goodbye outside and you left on your own, minutes ago, not hours. You said it wasn't worth dragging me away, when you could just as easily go by yourself and come back when you're ready."

Daemon went to the door and looked out. When he turned back, his face was ashen. He squared his shoulders and brushed one hand through his hair, the back of the other across his forehead. "How is that possible? Ben, is that true...ten minutes? Didn't you see us getting into the car together?"

"Daemon, you left the house together, but Millicent came back inside almost immediately. We assumed she'd changed her mind about going with you to Cape Town. She really never left here." Ben frowned. "And her car is back in the driveway?" That was odd.

"There's just one problem with me leaving alone, Ben," Daemon said. "I don't drive. Millicent was at the wheel. I saw her."

Ben met Jess' eyes. "Who was driving the car?" he asked. "Which car did you leave in? Did you even go in Millicent's?"

Something wasn't right here and Millicent was in the middle of it. Daemon glared at her.

The policeman looked ready to arrest someone. "Is this a hoax?" he demanded of Daemon. "I saw a burned-out car with my own eyes—that car," he pointed through the mesh with his pencil. "With that registration number." He flipped a page on his notebook and licked his pencil. "Mr. Noble, from the top, who was driving the car if neither you nor Miss Howard were? How much did you have to drink before you embarked on your journey?"

When the cop finally left, Daemon stopped Ben with a hand on his arm. They watched Millicent where she waited in the doorway for everyone to file past her into the lounge and then she cast them sideways glances, her back pressed to the doorframe.

"It was Millicent, Ben, you have to believe me. She was in the car with me. She had to drive, because I can't. She knows, just as I know, that she was there. Why is she twisting the facts now?"

"Daemon, something clearly happened to you. You're in shock."

"No, listen. Millicent wanted to be rid of me. A very elaborate murder. No one saw her at the accident scene while all of you saw her here. Her alibi is perfect."

"Why would she want you dead, Daemon?"

"I don't know. I think I was getting close to things she didn't anticipate coming out in my search for her sister. Moira acts as if she's in control of the sisters' affairs, but she's not. I think Millicent is either pure evil or completely off her rocker. Did you notice anything strange about the sisters in the time I was gone?"

"Only that they were unresponsive and looking vague."

"I need my books and my charts." Daemon dragged his hand with difficulty through the tangled mass of his hair. "Millicent isn't here to bring her sister home. Be very weary of her, Ben."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not quite sure. I get the feeling it's more a case of preventing her sister from coming home."

"Daemon, you're not making any sense. Look at her. She looks as if butter wouldn't dare melt in her mouth. Why would a woman like her invite you for a weekend away and then try to do you in? It doesn't make sense."

"Millicent and I aren't romantically involved. I can't explain her reasoning. It's clearly a logic only she, and maybe her sisters to some extent, understands."

"Jeez, Daemon, this is heavy stuff. Why did she bother to involve you in the first place?"

"I have no idea. I'll meditate and I will get to the bottom of it all. Millicent knows more than she is letting on."

"I'm with you there," Ben said.

"Are you boys coming, or are you going to whisper in the draughty hall all night?" Millicent queried with a secret little smile.

Both men looked at her and started forward at the same time.

Ben held his arm out for Jess and she slipped under it. "Sorry," he muttered as they passed Millicent in the doorway.

A frown pulled Jess' brows together. Why did he apologize to Millicent for having a conversation with anyone anywhere in his own home?

She watched as Daemon tried to duck past Millicent, but she blocked his way. "Maybe I'm a woman you can't trust," she told him.

What did she mean by that?

A shiver visibly running down his spine, Daemon's Adam's apple worked frantically up and down. He looked terrified of her.

"Cut it out, Millicent. What exactly happened tonight?" he said without looking at her.

"You're the psychic, you tell me," she taunted, turned and sashayed across the lounge. "Maybe you need another big glass of wine."

Daemon stared at her, then turned the other way into the kitchen. The back door banged softly as he left the house.

A woman Daemon couldn't trust? Jess mused. She wholeheartedly agreed with that. Millicent couldn't have been in two places at once. So, what had really happened to Daemon?

Ben pulled her by the hand after him to the study when the phone rang.

It seemed like mere moments later when Jess heard the kitchen door bang again and Daemon crossed the hall into her line of vision, his eyes darting from side to side. His hair was even more untidy and his dress smudged. He hadn't seen her where she sat in the study. As far as she knew, the sisters were still in the lounge and Ben was still on the phone.

Jan poked his head around the kitchen door while Daemon stood in the hall. "Locking the back door," he announced. "Good night, then."

A moment later, Ben replaced the phone on its cradle. "Did Jan just say good night? He can't do that now. I want them both in the kitchen until I get back." He marched into the kitchen with Jess and Daemon following, and flung the back door open. "Jan! Ethel!" he bellowed into the night.

"Where are you going?" Jess asked, a worried frown pulling her brows together.

"A horse is in trouble over at Chantilly. Maybe you should both come with me."

"Could you drop me in the village?" Daemon asked. "I could get a cab or a train from there. I have to get to Cape Town to confirm my theories."

"You won't find a ride now, Daemon. Coming with me will give you both a break from the pleasant trio and I might even use your help."

"If I can't get to Cape Town, I think I'd rather go to my room. I need some quiet time to sort through my thoughts." He looked exhausted, his eyes bloodshot and red-rimmed.

"I understand. I'm sure there's a logical explanation for it all." Ben patted Daemon's shoulder.

When Jan and Ethel shuffled into the kitchen, Ben said, "Unfortunately, I was called out. Would you both stay in the house until I get back?"

"Of course. We don't trust them, either," Jan said as he pulled out a chair for Ethel.

"Come and sit with us, hon," Ethel said, smiling at Jess.

"It would ease my mind to do my job if I knew Ethel and Jan were close by for you." Ben squeezed Jess' hand. "The sooner I get there, the sooner I can get back."

She walked with him to the door, where he leaned in close to say, "Look, you could go hide in your room, but I think you would be too vulnerable on your own. We don't know what those women are up to. Stay with Ethel. She might be old, but she has substance."

Jess smiled and rolled her eyes. "Don't worry about me. It's nothing but some bizarre game they're playing. Go fix your horse, and I'll see you soon. I have a debt to repay, remember?" She stuck her tongue in her cheek and winked before she closed the door. Leaning against it, she grinned when Ben's chuckle drifted back to her.

Daemon hovered in the hall. "Jess, I don't want to leave you alone. Go to the kitchen. At least you know Ethel means you no harm."

"Daemon, we don't know what the sisters will do. Where did you disappear to?"

Daemon looked at his bare feet. "I went to the river to dip my feet in the water. I needed air. Now I'm going upstairs. I can't stomach any more of the Howards tonight. Stay with Ethel, she'll take care of you."

"No, Daemon, you'll be alone in your room. Let's rather go into the study and compare notes on the search for Roxanne."

"I don't think I'm quite ready for that yet, Jessica."

"Okay, we don't need to talk about Roxanne, or the sisters, or anything at all. Let's have a whiskey. If there are two of us, their attention will be divided." She hooked her arm through his. "You can go upstairs when we hear Ben's car in the driveway."

They had just settled themselves when Ethel appeared in the study doorway. "If you need anything, please call." She looked at Jess. "We'll be in the kitchen, Jan and I, until Ben comes home." There was comfort in that.

Daemon didn't want to talk, that much was clear from the way he brooded into the amber liquid in his glass. Jess wondered what the sisters were plotting, unobserved in the lounge. If she wanted to know what they were up to, there was only one way to find out.

Jess tiptoed from the study into the hall. She was going to have to join them in the lounge if she wanted to find out anything.

"You don't mind if I sit with you, do you?" she queried sweetly from the doorway. The three blonde heads were close together, speaking in hushed tones, but stopped to watch her saunter in and settle in the wingback chair, smiling at them. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything. What were you talking about?"

"Don't you know your place?" Moira said sharply.

"Yes, I do," Jess said, still smiling. "Ben invited me to make myself at home and therefore I don't need to justify myself to you for anything. If you don't want to include me in your conversation, it's fine by me, but it's ill-mannered the way you three carry on as if you own the place. You forget you yourselves are no more than guests in Ben's house."

The women looked at each other and then started to chortle. A moment later, all three were roaring their mirth. "Guests. We're guests here," Alison managed to get out, which led to even greater hilarity.

Jess glared at them. She saw nothing remotely funny in what she'd said.

The laughter stopped as suddenly as it had started, and the sisters turned to Jess. It couldn't be real, it had to be the effect of the light, but their eyes seemed to glow red like burning coals.

"To us, you are superfluous, you and him," Millicent hissed, jerking her chin in the direction of the study.

It happened so fast, Jess never saw it coming. Loneliness gripped her, so intense it squeezed the air out of her lungs. Her eyes rolled in their sockets from side to side, the scream stuck in her throat. Cold flooded through her, her body too rigid to shiver. She opened her mouth in her desperation for air, but the room already started to go dark from the outside in.

Daemon! Daemon! she cried inside her head. Ethel! Help me!

From very far away, she heard shuffling footsteps at a run. Ethel had heard her cry for help and she was coming, but it was too late. Ethel would never reach her in time.

Jess fought with everything she had to keep her eyes open, to stay conscious. She knew the moment she passed out, the sisters would have won and she'd be lost in a place she could never return from.

Air, need air.

Ben! Ben! Help me! I don't want to die. I want a future with you!

The sisters' faces appeared, one by one, in the center of her vision—the only space that hadn't yet been swallowed by the dark— Moira and Alison concerned, Millicent smiling like the Cheshire cat. Then everything went dark, she couldn't see a thing.

Gasping, Jess tried to force air into her lungs, but it was useless. From far away, she heard a door bang, and she sensed Ben. It was confirmed when his bag plopped to the floor in the doorway. She heard two long strides bring him to her, and then she felt him drop to his knees beside her chair.

The moment he touched her, the air flooded back into the room, lifting the hair off her forehead. He wrapped her in his arms against his chest. "What the hell is going on here? Breathe, Jess, breathe! Daemon! Where are you?" he bellowed. "Ethel!"

By degrees, the dark lifted from her eyes.

Daemon skidded to a halt in the doorway, his eyes wide, staring at Ben and Jess as if the scene didn't make sense to him. A moment later, Ethel elbowed him aside.

"I'm here, Mr. Ben. I heard her call," Ethel panted by his shoulder. "Mr. Noble, pour her a glass of wine." Ethel's bony hands closed around Jess' wrist, patting the back of her hand.

Looking even more bewildered, Daemon brought the glass and held it to Jess' numb lips. She gulped at the liquid, some of which slobbered to her chin and dribbled down her throat. Ben straightened her rigid limbs in the chair, brushing her hair back from her face, while Ethel patted her hands.

Every muscle in her body shook with oxygen deprivation, her eyes gritty and unfocused. The three people around her had solid form, even if they were devoid of detail. Behind them the room was a shifting blur.

If Ben hadn't returned just then, what would have happened to her? Was it something the sisters did? Would they have killed her for real?

But how?

Ethel straightened to look around the lounge. "I know what they tried to do to you, my girl, and I warned you that dark days were coming, didn't I? They sucked the happiness right out of you. That's one sure way to kill a person."

"But they never touched me."

"They didn't need to. Those sisters will stop at nothing, Ben. Mr. Noble and Jessica are both in grave danger. Jan and I won't be leaving the house tonight. We're going to need strong protection until the sun is up."

Jess leaned forward in the chair, her shaking hands to her head. "Ethel, I've asked you before to speak plainly so I can understand you. Would they really have killed me? Just by glaring at me?"

"Yes, Jessica, stone dead. Happiness is your life force—without it you literally can't breathe. Ben, we can't leave her alone for one minute. Mr. Noble, don't you go anywhere alone either, and pay attention. I'll be right back. There's much that need fixing here." She turned on her heel and shuffled away.

Ben, on his knees by Jess' chair, wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in her lap. After a moment, he lifted tortured eyes to her face. "Jess, I am so sorry. I shouldn't have left you alone."

She smiled gently, brushing the hair off his forehead with trembling fingers. "It wasn't your fault. You couldn't have known what they were going to do." She wrapped her arms around his head. "I'm so glad you came back in time."

Daemon sat on the corner of the couch, his elbows denting his knees. "Jeez, Ben, what kind of household do you run here? This's enough to give a man ulcers, and I've only been here twenty-four hours. How do you stand it?"

Ben straightened and held his hand out to Jess, pulling her into his arms. "Daemon, it isn't normally like this around here. It's the Howards. They must have somehow immobilized you to keep you out of the way."

"Where are they?"

"They left the house just before Ben got back," the old woman said as she returned, carrying a basketin one hand.

"We should bolt the doors against them!" Daemon exclaimed as he jumped to his feet.

"Don't be a fool, Mr. Noble. No locked door will keep them out." Ethel's gnarled old hands arranged things she took from the basket on the low table.

Daemon watched her intently for a moment, then sighed. "Will neutralizing the negativity be enough?"

"It is the only way. Without their own vibrations, their effect will be reduced and whatever they plan next will lose its sting. You know this stuff, Mr. Noble?"

"Of course." Daemon met Ben's eyes. "I can't spend the night in this house. I don't care what anyone thinks, Millicent was in that car with me and I saw her die. Now they've nearly killed Jess. And all of this,"—he waved a hand at Ethel and her tools set out on the table,—"is a little too late."

"You could make yourself useful, Mr. Noble," Ethel said. "Together we'd be that much stronger."

"Sorry, Ethel, I just don't have it in me right now."

Ethel fixed her eyes on him. "No, you don't. It's their negativity. That's what it does."

"Shouldn't we three spend the night down here, together?" Jess asked. "We could take turns standing guard. There is safety in numbers."

"No, that won't help. They were right in front of you when they did this to you, Jess. They're rearranging the energies to suit themselves, and that makes them very dangerous."

Daemon gave Ethel a long, considering look. "I'm calling a cab." He already had his mobile in his hand.

"I told you, you won't find one this time on a Saturday night, Daemon, not around here."

Daemon's eyes were wide with panic. "I have to get away, Ben. I'll walk into town and check into the hotel."

"That's probably your best bet. I'd give you a ride, but—"

"No, I can't take you away again. You're the only one who seems to neutralize things by just being present. Maybe Jess should come with me?"

"Yes," Ben said at the same time as Jess said emphatically, "No!"

"Wild horses couldn't drag me away, Daemon," Jess continued. "Ben and Amber need me, and I need them." Turning to Ben, she smiled tremulously. "You're not getting rid of me that easily."

"I wasn't trying to get rid of you. I was thinking about your safety. You're a brave girl, and I won't leave you alone again, not for a second." He pulled her closer until their foreheads touched. "If anything happened to you because of me..."

"Nothing will, as long as you're with me," she whispered.

"I'm sorry, Ben, this isn't my fight. I came to help Millicent find her missing sister. I was so close, but I can't follow through now. I've lost my momentum. I'll come back tomorrow, if I can be of any use to you and Jess, when the sun is high and I can see those bloody sisters in front of me. I've never come across such slippery, evil people in my life. Millicent is the worst. Since meeting her, I have felt there was something very odd about her."

"I understand, Daemon. You'll be safe in the village. Let us know when you get there, okay?" Ben said.

Daemon couldn't seem to get out of the house fast enough. He didn't even take anything with him.

"Not very courageous, is our Daemon," Ben muttered when the door banged behind the man.

"Can you blame him?"

"No, and with him out of the way, there's one less person for me to worry about. Come, let me help you to bed." He draped her arm around his waist, for which she was grateful. Her legs didn't feel like they belonged to her.

Ethel blocked his way as they started to cross the hall. "Take her to your room, Mr. Ben. I'll keep vigil down here and try to neutralize as much of the negativity as I can."

Jess swallowed with difficulty, her throat stiff and sore, as if she'd been throttled. Her "Amber will be unprotected," came out as barely more than a croak.

"Amber isn't in danger from her aunts tonight, whereas you are. They won't dare do anything to you in Ben's room. It's a sacred space, a concept they understand." She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth before she touched Jess' arm. "They won't stop trying to get inside your head, honey. You have to block them. You have to think happy thoughts, the happiest you can imagine. They have no notion of happiness. They thrive on darkness and dank and decay. Your happiness will confuse them and throw them off their purpose."

"But they stole my happiness." Jess frowned. "They could do it again."

"Yes, they did when you weren't expecting it and didn't know what to look out for. Now you understand, and you can deliberately call up your protective happy thoughts. Love confuses them."

Ben grinned as he wrapped his other arm around the old shoulders and squeezed. "You old rascal. You seem pleased about Jess and me."

"It's about time you started living again, Mr. Ben," Ethel said. "She wasn't nice to you, and you have mourned her long enough." For once she wasn't smiling. "I'll keep an ear open for Amber, if it will ease your minds."

Laughing, Ben steered Jess to the stairs. "She thinks she's solely responsible for us coming together," Jess said as she snuggled into his neck and wrapped both arms about his chest.

"For months she's been on about someone coming to change my life. I guess she decided that someone is you." Ben's bedroom door opened onto the hall, and together they passed all the doors along the way.

"She's been telling me something similar since I arrived, except she thinks she sent for me specifically, by name." Jess waited until the door closed behind them and for light to flood the room before she said, "Ben, these sisters-in-law of yours, do you think they really are a threat to you? I told you earlier that, in my opinion, they're only playing games."

"What they did to you seemed pretty real to me. Look, anyone can make things fly. Ethel can, and she's taught Amber to do it. She tried to teach me once, but I didn't have the knack. We had a good laugh, though." Ben sighed. "Ethel does it to amuse Amber. There's no harm in that in itself. The sisters can all do variations on the theme. I suspect Ethel taught them, too, when they were children. But who knows what deeper powers they may have? I'm not prepared to take a chance."

He went to the window to look out into the dark. "They are a threat to you. They resent you because they didn't expect anyone to be here to foil their plans, or for me to dig my heels in and refuse to play along. They clearly think I'm quite spineless." He came back to Jess and took her hands. "I'm beginning to agree with you and Daemon, that they don't really want to find Roxanne."

"What is their reason for being here, then?"

"I think it has everything to do with me and Amber. You heard them at dinner. That makes me nervous. Amber is just a little girl." He seemed unsure of himself again. "We're going to have to keep a close eye on her. It's a relief knowing Ethel is watching her tonight. There's so much more to her than merely an old woman. She has hidden talents and knowledge, which is comforting. She won't let anything or anyone harm Amber."

Jess wrapped her arms around his waist. "Do you think your bed will toss us to the floor?" Her eyes sparkled, her strength returning. It must be as Ethel said, that Ben's bedroom was a haven for her from the sisters' influence.

Ben threw his head back and laughed. "It wouldn't dare."

It took them a long time to reach the bed. Kisses interrupted undressing, and helping hindered, instead.

"I'm so glad you came." He pulled her against his chest and the covers over them both. "I feel as if I'm supposed to make some sort of declaration." He brushed her hair off her face and lifted her chin until their eyes met. "I can't tell you that I love you, Jess, but I like you a lot. This all went a bit fast for me. I would have liked go through the whole process with you, the wining and dining, the stolen moments, the wooing. Instead, we have to put up with the sisters-in-law from hell and there isn't much time for us."

"It's all right, you don't have to—"

He stopped her with a finger across her lips. "I'll only say those words when I mean them." Holding her against his chest, his next words rumbled against her cheek. "The sisters can't be here much longer, and then you too must go home."

Jess jerked in his arms. She would have pulled away, but he must have anticipated it and tightened his arms around her.

Tears filled her eyes. He as good as told her he didn't love her. "No girl likes false declarations of love." And then the tears came in full force. His chest was wet in seconds. I love you, she said in her head, and bit her lip. Doesn't that count for anything?

He rolled her over onto her back and leaned on an elbow to look into her face. She would have turned away, but he held her gently in place. "What's this?" he asked, kissing at the tears streaming down her face. "Did I do this?" He lifted her chin with a finger. "Please, don't cry."

"Don't send me away, then. I don't want to go. Please, give us a chance."

Stroking her hair off her face, he studied her as he traced the outline of her lips. "Am I being selfish?"

"Yes, of course you are. You say you like me, and that you're glad I came. You know I can make a difference with Amber, and you like this"—she swept her hand to indicate the bed and their two naked bodies in it—"yet you'll end it all in a heartbeat."

"I can't make any promises I might not keep. Why don't we just enjoy the time we have together." He brushed his lips over hers, then slanted his head as he took the kiss deeper. She folded her arms around his neck. It was a while before he lifted his head, and then only because a sob bubbled from her into his mouth.

"Will I never see you again, Ben?" she sobbed, not even trying to stem the flood of tears. Her heart was breaking, and she wouldn't hide her feelings from him anymore.

"Don't cry, sweetheart. Who knows what tomorrow will bring? I told you not to expect more than I have to give, but you are a powerful attraction. I might not be able to stay away."

Tears still rolling down her face into her ears, she lifted her chin in invitation. Without hesitation, Ben claimed her mouth as he rolled on top of her.

He kissed her softly, almost leisurely at first while she touched his face with her fingertips, as if she tried to commit every detail to memory. At least he didn't outright say her leaving Weltevreden was necessarily the end for them.

When he pushed his knee between her thighs, she made room for him. He slipped into her slowly, in no hurry, leisurely devouring her mouth, her body.

His eyes burned into hers as she held him in her arms. Balancing his weight on his elbows, he started to move, faster and more demandingly, and she wrapped her legs around him.

When he wrapped his arms under her hips, lifting her for him, Jess knew he'd passed the point of no return, that he'd lost control completely. He pounded into her, bringing them both to the very height of pleasure.

Jess stroked the backs of his legs with her insteps, her fingers in the hair in his nape. They were so comfortable together, relishing the afterglow of their lovemaking, but he startled her when he lifted his head to look at her. Even though her tears had stopped, he studied her closely as he untangled his arms from under her hips to support himself on his elbows.

"I forgot the condom," he whispered. "Please, tell me you're on the pill?"

"Oops," she giggled and hiccupped, even as he rolled off her, turning her onto her side against his chest. She snuggled her face into his neck. "Relax, you're safe. I'm on the pill."

"You mean, I didn't need to bother with the condom last night? Why didn't you tell me you were on the pill?"

Shrugging, she smiled. "You never asked."

He grinned as he kissed her nose, both eyelids and ran his tongue along her jaw. "You were right, I do like this. It will be heavenly to wake up in the middle of the night with a gorgeous, sexy, adorable woman in my arms. Nights are long and lonely." Cupping the back of her head, he kissed her softly. "Jess, let's just enjoy each other in the moment, okay?"

Sated and sleepy, Jess lay staring up at the canopy over Ben's bed long after he'd rolled onto his back and his breathing had deepened. Her head on his chest, she gently spread her hand on his stomach. His muscles contracted, but he didn't wake up.

Smiling, she studied the canopy again. It looked like there was a spot on the fabric, in the middle of the hanging. At first she thought her drifting mind made her see things, but the longer she stared at it, the more solid it became.

There was something dangling over the bed.

What the heck!

Careful not to wake Ben, she rolled away from him and stood up on the mattress. It took all her concentration to balance on the yielding surface, but once she found it, she turned her attention to whatever was hanging from the canopy.

It looked similar to the thing Jan had wafted about the previous night and the one she'd found in her room this morning, hanging over the window seat. Only this one was exclusively in reds—red feathers, red beads, tiny silver bells.

Goosebumps lifted every single hair on her body.

Red, for danger, for passion, or for love.

Had it been there when they went to bed? They'd been distracted by passion and need, and there was no way for her to answer that question.

Just then, the clock in the hall chimed the midnight hour. Ben shot up in bed, his eyes wild, his tousled hair sticking up haphazardly in all directions. "Millicent, what are you doing in my room? Don't you know your boundaries, woman? Get out!"

Dropping back onto the mattress, Jess glanced about the deep shadows in the bedroom, her heart playing a drum solo against her ribs.

There was no one there.

"What is it, Ben?" she whispered, gently touching his shoulder.

His wild eyes swiveled to her, but she had the feeling he didn't see her at all. She allowed her hand to slip from his shoulder down his arm.

He blinked several times before his eyes cleared. "Jess, why are you awake?" His voice was husky with sleep. "Come here." Flopping back to the pillows, he folded his arms around her and settled her against his chest. His skin was hot, his smell comforting.

Pulling the duvet up over them both, she snuggled as close as she could get to him. He must have had a bad dream.

She curled her fingers into the crisp hair on his chest and flung one leg over his. Soon, she felt him relaxed, and his breathing deepened. She held him until she was sure he was sound asleep.

Only then did she ease herself out of his arms and rolled to her feet. The room was dark, but the light might wake Ben again, so she didn't put it on.

Rooting around on the floor in the dark, she found a piece of clothing and held it to her nose. Ben's shirt would do. She slipped it on over her head. It reached past the middle of her thighs. Her panties were somewhere on the floor, but she didn't bother to find them. Turning to the door, she eased it open a crack.

The house was silent, the passage dark. Jess shivered.

If either Ethel or Millicent were on the prowl and had come into Ben's room, she needed to know about it. She needed to know if Ben really saw anyone, or if it had only been a dream.

Leaving the door behind her ajar, Jess suddenly stopped. Will you listen to yourself? Surely Ben wouldn't mistake old Ethel for his young sister-in-law.

Who had he seen, then?

She'd think about that when she got back into bed. And she was going to have to find time to speak with Daemon when he got back in the morning, to compare notes about Roxanne.

But she needed to know who was wandering around the house right now.

If Millicent was back inside, the other sisters would be, too. Should she put her guard up, as Ethel had taught her? Maybe she should wake Ben and make love to him until the sun came up. If Ethel was right about love confusing the sisters, her loving Ben would have them very disoriented, indeed.

The stairs creaked under her. Below, the hall was in impenetrable darkness. An odd feeling settled over her. The dark seemed solid, like a wall.

Jess froze when the smell of lilies surrounded her.

Daisy spun around. "What is the meaning of this?" she demanded of the nearest police officer, the megaphone dangling from his hand.

"Apologies, ma'am. We're here to rescue you from these two. Have they demanded anything from you, a ransom, money, worse?"

"What?" Daisy screamed. "Are you crazy? Jamin and Marigold have only been good to me. I owe them my life. Release them this instant!" She took two menacing steps closer to the man with the megaphone when no one moved to do her bidding. "Who hit Marigold? You can be sure a complaint of police brutality will be lodged against the lot of you, right along with wrongful arrest, if you don't release them immediately." Daisy barely reached the man's shoulder, but she was like a lion protecting her cubs.

The officer cleared his throat. "We can't do that, ma'am."

"You can and you shall! How did you even know I was here?" Daisy locked her jaw.

"A woman with strange hair came into the station earlier to report a person found, and she made a statement that these two were holding you here against your will."

Another officer said, "The woman collected her reward. Don't worry, ma'am, you're safe now. These two are felons and they're going to jail. They won't bother you anymore."

Daisy rose onto her toes to scream into the man's face. "Haven't you heard what I said? I owe them my life. And this is their house, not mine. They didn't keep me prisoner, they are my friends. Release them now!" She couldn't remember being this angry, ever.

"Are you unharmed, ma'am?" another of the officers asked.

"Do I look as if I'm hurt?"

"You're wet," yet another policeman observed.

"We were caught in the rain. A bit of rain never hurt anyone, and neither Jamin nor Marigold have control over the weather." Daisy crossed her arms, tapping her foot in the dust. "Do you?"

"You will have to come with us, ma'am," the man with the megaphone said, color suffusing his cheeks.

When he signaled one of the men to uncuff Jamin and Marigold, Daisy said, "I will do no such thing. I have to take care of the injury you have inflicted on Marigold."

"We can't leave a white woman at the mercy of colored folk."

"I'm not at their mercy! Jamin and Marigold are good people, and I'm staying right here with them. What business is it of yours what I do, anyway? No crime has been committed here, except for that."

She pointed at Marigold's cheek and squeezed her arm. "Come inside, Marigold. I have to stop the bleeding." She turned to Jamin. "How could you let this happen? You should have protected her."

Jamin wrapped his arm around his sister's shoulders. "It happened before I even got to her, and I had no time to react before they slapped cuffs on me. Whatever I might have tried would only have made matters worse for us. Come, sis," he cajoled, heading for the stairs with Marigold.

As Daisy started to follow, a hand on her arm stopped her.

"Ma'am, I'm going to have to insist you come with us." The officer addressed a spot beyond the top of her head.

Daisy shook his hand off. "Why? Am I now under arrest? You didn't know about me, or where I lived, for a whole year. Why the sudden concern about my whereabouts?" Daisy turned and rushed after Jamin and Marigold.

"We can't ignore the report, ma'am. Now that we know where you are, we can't leave you here."

"Fortunately, it isn't up to you." She swung to face the speaker. "What was the name of the person who made the report?"

The officers looked at each other.

"You said the woman had strange hair?"

"Lettie," Jamin and Marigold said together.

"Lettie? What's strange about her hair?" She turned back to the police officers. "You lot can go back to your station now. I assure you I am exactly where I want to be. You can add to your report that I have never been in any danger from Jamin and Marigold. Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I have to take care of my friend before your violence leaves a permanent scar on her beautiful face. Good day." She swung around to follow Jamin and Marigold up the stairs, but stopped on the top step.

"Do any of you have a mobile charger with you? My battery died and..." She faltered when she registered the strange looks the cops were giving her. "No, I suppose not," she said as she turned to the door. "Never mind. Good day."

"We'll send the department of welfare around. Don't hesitate to call if you need us."

"I'm sure the welfare has more than enough people to care for. I have no need of them, nor of the police." She closed the door firmly behind herself.

Marigold was already seated at the table and Jamin had the medicine box open in front of her. "I told you to stay out of sight," Jamin said as he folded Daisy into his arms. "Are you all right?"

"Of course I am," she muttered against his shoulder. He held her away from him to look her over. "If I had listened to you, both you and Marigold would have been in the back of one of those cars on your way to the holding cells. I should have come home sooner. I could have prevented this." She looked at the blood dripping from Marigold's face.

Daisy dragged her white-blonde mane, frizzy from the earlier rain, from her face and tucked it into the collar of her red shirt dress "Let me go, Jamin. Marigold needs tending. Please, make us all a cup of tea."

Marigold winced when Daisy pressed a wad of gauze to her cheek. "Where have you been? Jamin went out to look for you."

"He found me." She flushed, smiling shyly at Jamin's back. "What did you mean...you think it was Lettie who told the police I lived here? What did they mean by 'strange hair'?"

Jamin, bringing three mugs to the table, said, "Short, spiky greenish-blonde, with patches missing, qualifies as strange hair."

"She wanted to look like you, to turn Jamin's heart back to herself," Marigold said stiffly. "She tried to bleach and straighten her hair at the same time. Half of it fell out. I had to cut it really short. For a clever girl, Lettie can be very silly sometimes, but that's the sort of thing a woman scorned gets up to. She made the false report to the police about us, probably hoping to drive a wedge in between you and Jamin."

"But the police rewarded her for the information and she took the money. Wait until I get hold of that bitch!"

"Daisy!" Jamin and Marigold exclaimed together.

"Cussing is most unlike you," Marigold scolded.

Daisy flushed. "I have had it with that woman. She's going to get the broadside of my tongue when I see her next." She shrugged her shoulders. "Better?"

Jamin met Marigold's eyes.

"Daisy, don't be too hard on her," Marigold said. "And you shouldn't go into the mountains alone, at least not without telling someone where you're going. What if you'd slipped and broken a leg? We would never have thought to search for you up there. You might have lain there for days before someone found you." She took both Daisy's hands in hers. "You know I love you like a sister and I worry about you. Promise me you won't do that again."

"I told you yesterday I might go see the little girl today. I thought you'd remember." Daisy disentangled her hands to hug Marigold. "You worry too much, and you forget, I grew up here, these are my mountains."

Marigold pulled back. "You did? You never told us that."

Daisy frowned. "Didn't I? Are you sure? I thought I did. This needs a couple of stitches."

She set to work, keeping up a steady stream of small talk. Marigold didn't twitch a muscle. "Can you believe the audacity of the police? Rescue me from the pair of you, indeed. You are the kindest people I know. They were acting like they were from the apartheid era, the way they thought I was in any danger from you. In this day and age, racism is an offense punishable by the law." She stood up and closed the medicine box. "There, that should do it." Only then did she become aware of the slack jaws as Marigold and Jamin stared at her. "What?" she asked.

"What are you talking about, Daisy?" Jamin asked. "Racism and apartheid are alive and well."

"No, it isn't. Apartheid was abolished in 1994 when the ANC was voted into government and Nelson Mandela became president. You shouldn't have allowed the police to speak to you like that."

"Daisy, it's 1969. How can the ANC be in government? Nelson Mandela, the terrorist, president?"

"It's 2019. Have you been asleep for the past fifty years?" She stared at Jamin for a long time while the truth slowly sank home. Then she clapped her hand over her mouth, tears filling her eyes. "Are you sure this is 1969?" She held up her hand before either could respond. "Yes, I know it is. I've seen the date on the newspapers. I never made the connection before."

Jamin took her hand away from her face. "Lettie told me last night she saw you in the future when she touched your hand. I didn't believe her."

"The image of a man I've had in my head for the past couple of days...he is my husband, Ben. And the little girl I visited earlier today, she is my child, Amber." Tears spilled over and ran down her face. "Oh, God, I have a husband and a daughter...a life...and I'm not even born yet. No wonder I have no memory of anything..."

She dashed the tears away and turned to Jamin. "I can't remember anything about my husband, apart from what he looked like. I don't know if I love him, or if we were happy together."

Her worst fears were being realized and there was nothing she could do to stop the memories flooding her mind. Another man, a man whom she barely remembered, had a prior claim on her. That was why she had the persistent feeling of her and Jamin never being together as man and wife.

How could she divorce a man who hadn't even been born yet?

Taking a deep breath didn't steady her voice. "I'm so sorry, Jamin. I can't marry you." Her shoulders sagged as her chin dropped to her chest. "What am I going to do?"

Jamin cupped her face in both hands. "No, Daisy, no." He swallowed with difficulty. Wrapping her in his arms, he held her so tight she could barely breathe. "I won't let you go. You are my life! In '69 you're not married to anyone."

She clung to him, her face awash with tears. "I didn't want to remember this. I didn't want to remember anything." She took a gulping breath as she disentangled herself from his arms. "You said everything I remember will stay in the past, but I can't ignore a husband and a child in the future. I have to go home. I'm so sorry, Jamin." Her sobs filled the kitchen.

Tears ran down Marigold's face, soaking the dressing Daisy had applied to her cheek. "Daisy, don't upset yourself. We'll figure it out, sweetheart." Jamin met his sister's eyes. "This was what I had been afraid of, Jamin. Come and sit down, both of you." She dabbed at the tears, belatedly remembering the dressing.

The three of them were quiet for a while, each busy with their own thoughts, before Marigold asked, "Where did you learn to do this?" She gently touched her cheek. "I barely felt a thing. Maybe you're a nurse, too?"

Daisy's hand shook so badly when she picked up her mug, some tea slopped over her fingers. "I often helped my husband with the animals in his clinic. He taught me..." Her mug went down on the table with a heavy thump, spilling some more tea. "I was so horrible to him that day..." She covered her eyes with her hand, her shoulders shaking.

"Your husband is a veterinarian?" Jamin asked. "Do you remember your life with him?"

Daisy met his eyes. "Yes, it's all slowly coming back to me. His name is Ben Arnold, a veterinary surgeon in the Wellington district. I am Roxanne Arnold and we have a child, a little girl called Amber. I have three sisters—two sisters and an identical twin. That's my house I saw from the top of the mountains, but it's all wrong. There are no vineyards in 2019, there haven't been vineyards at Weltevreden for forty years or more. I remember, Jamin, and I didn't want to."

Marigold's eyes lingered on her before she said, "But if you weren't even born in 1969, how can you see your daughter? If you're not alive, then neither is she."

"But I did see her, and gave her the doll. It...must have been something like...I think sometimes time itself bends. I don't think anyone but me could have seen the child, Marigold, but I certainly did." She gripped each of their hands and pressed their backs to her streaming eyes. "This is a nightmare," she whispered. "How am I going to get back to my husband and child? They must think I abandoned them."

"If you managed to go back to your husband," Jamin said, gripping her hand like a lifeline, "if it was possible to get you home, you and I—"

"Jamin, there's never been a you and I. Lettie got her wish in a way she couldn't have planned if she tried. I'll always love you, but whatever happened to time to bring me here, I'm already married. I doubt if I can go back, but I'll always be married to Ben." She released their hands and took a deep breath. "Even if it was possible, I wouldn't inflict myself on you, Jamin. I'm not a nice wife."

"You are the sweetest person I know, and you're the only woman for me, Daisy." He was pensive for a while before he leaned his elbows on the table. "So, you're here in 1969 and your husband is in 2019, fifty years apart. If you thought rationally about your situation, you must agree it will be best to pretend you never remembered anything. We'll get married in two weeks as if you didn't, just as we planned. And no one will ever be the wiser."

"No, we can't, Jamin. I'll know."

Jess went back to Ben's room and climbed into bed next to him, careful not to disturb him. Her heart beat wildly in her chest.

Roxanne was Daisy. That was what Daisy tried to tell her in the visions, that she not only was well and happy, but also that she was was Ben's wife misplaced in time.

How was that even possible?

The tears came then. She pulled her knees up and rested her face on top. She cried for the beautiful young woman, snatched from her husband's loving arms by an uncaring fate. Then she cried for the love denied the pair by Daisy's misplaced loyalty to a man she neither remembered loving nor could ever come back to.

And then she cried with relief, for Ben was free to love her.

Roxanne, trapped in the past, must surely have died by now. She couldn't have lived as long as this. There was no doubt left in her mind that the woman in her visions was the spirit of Roxanne reaching out over time to put Ben's mind at ease. Roxanne wanted Ben to say goodbye to her, so that he could find love again.

Jess cried even harder.

What a strong woman Roxanne must have been. Small wonder Ben had loved her so dearly.

The horrible sisters could now all go back to where they came from—Roxanne had been found—and not by them. Their plans for Ben would never be realized, because she didn't intend to allow the three women to force him to dance to their racket.

Wiping her face with her hands, she turned her head on top of her knees to see Ben beside her. His chest rose and fell rhythmically as he slept. She reached out and pressed her palm to his warm chest. His heart beat steady and strong.

For the first time, there was hope in her heart for a bright, loving future for her with Ben and Amber. With Roxanne out of his reach, there was no reason for him to send her away. She'd convince him she was his to keep woman. And he'd come to love her as much as she loved him. He was her Mr. Full Potential.

Daisy stood on the veranda, staring unseeing into the dark. A gentle breeze ruffled her mane of silver-blonde hair. Her hands were clasped under her chin. She could hear Marigold and Jamin in the kitchen, speaking in low tones.

She wasn't listening to them. There was a desperate need in her to remember more details. Her husband's face was now as clear as if he was standing in front of her, but she reached deep inside herself for an emotion, any kind of attachment to him.

Nothing fluttered in her heart.

She'd been married to the man for a long time, she had to have felt something for him. What if she managed to get back to him and she still couldn't find any attachment to him? Going back would mean giving up Jamin. Could such a terrible sacrifice be in vain?

She'd been away from Ben for a year. That might be why she was unable to summon her feelings for him? No, that couldn't be it—she couldn't have merely forgotten her love for the man she'd been married to. She saw Amber again today and she had always known she loved the little girl unquestioningly, even before she knew she was her daughter.

There was only one way to resolve this problem.

Closing her eyes, she concentrated hard, drawing on every fiber of her being. Shutting the present out, her essence, released from her physical body, flew into the darkness. Wind rushed by her, while colors swirled around her, enveloping her.

Her quest was singular—to return to a place she hadn't been for more than a year.

Images swirled into her head behind closed eyes, until a bedroom took shape. She recognized it as the room she'd shared with her husband. The enormous, canopied bed was rumpled, two bodies intimately entwined in it.

She recognized Ben from her recently recovered memories. He lay on his side, his bare chest rising and falling gently in sleep, his arm flung across the naked body of a woman.

No emotion, no jealousy stirred in her breast.

Standing at the foot of the bed, she studied the woman closely. She was very beautiful, with creamy skin and red hair spread across the pillows. One of her legs had been draped across Ben's hips.

The sob that bubbled up from her chest took her by surprise. It wasn't the wounded reaction she might have expected to Ben's unfaithfulness to her, but more the sadness of having been replaced in his life. It didn't feel good, even if he did believe her dead.

Seeing him with another woman opened the floodgates of memory.

She had loved him so very much.

Why had she been so horrible to him throughout their marriage?

The keening cry returned her to the present, and she shook her head as the veranda came fully into focus. Jamin and Marigold's house, in the year 1969.

How could this have happened to her? How had she been tossed out of her time, to land here, with Jamin, the love she was forbidden to have?

She glanced over her shoulder when a shiver shook her.

A sound behind her had startled her, but she saw only shadows around the patch of restless candlelight from the kitchen window.

Nothing moved, but the fine hairs all over her body stirred to attention.

A flimsy smell that hadn't been there a moment before surrounded her. She squeezed her eyes shut when she sneezed, and when she opened them again, the air in front of her shimmered as a human form took shape.

Blonde hair cascaded over the shoulders of the woman in front of her, the bluest blue eyes held hers captive. She realized she was staring at a mirror reflection of herself. Only her image was dressed in jeans, whereas she herself was still in her black pants and red shirt dress that had dried on her body since her dunking in the river and being caught in the rain.

Not her image then, but someone exactly like her.

Her twin sister.

Millicent.

What was she doing here?

How did she get here?

Daisy's heart bottomed out when another thought struck her. Did her twin come to take her home? Back to Ben, whom she hadn't remembered until barely more than a few moments ago? Away from Jamin, whom she loved with all her heart?

Without giving her a choice, or even a chance to say goodbye?

No!

Her twin raised her arms as if to hug her, but she never made the contact. Instead, she smiled and her arms drifted back down her sides.

"Hello, Roxanne. I missed you. Did you miss me?"

Daisy tried to swallow the lump in her throat. "I don't think so," she said, her voice unsteady. "I didn't remembered you until just now. How did you know where to find me?"

"I had to know where you ended up. I had to see for myself you were safe and unharmed."

"I'm very well, thank you."

Millicent giggled. "Oh my, ever so formal." The smile disappeared. "What do you remember?"

"Everything. I remember my husband and my daughter. I remember my life before I came here. I remember you and my two other sisters."

"Do you remember anything about the day...uh...when you came here?"

Daisy frowned. The smell was more prominent now. The day she came here was the one thing she had no memory of. She shook her head.

Millicent half turned and looked out over the dark vineyards. "You weren't supposed to remember anything at all. All the memories of your other life should have been erased, so you could start again and make a brand new life for yourself, far away in time."

"What happened on that day?" Daisy asked when Millicent didn't say any more. "Tell me. I don't remember..."

"You crashed your car, unfortunately." She didn't look sorry at all.

"Did you come to take me home?"

Millicent chuckled. "Why would I want to take you home?" The smile disappeared. "You can never go home, sister. You died in that crash. If you try to go home, you'll be dead for real."

Daisy's breath caught. "I died? But...but I'm alive."

Millicent bared her teeth. "Yes, you are. You have been given another chance, here. Somehow, you were flung back in time, to live again. You are dead in your own world. It is this, or nothing at all."

"But you managed to make the journey..." Daisy clasped her hands under her chin, just like Marigold did when she was upset. "No, you didn't come in person." She turned away. "You sent a thought to find me. You couldn't even come to me in person to tell me I'm dead to my husband and daughter. Why?"

The silence stretched and when Daisy turned back to face her sister, she was gone.

Gripping the railing, she stared out over the dark garden. Then, remembering the stone fragment in her pocket, she took it out and held it in the palm of her hand.

It glowed as if lit from within.

She pressed it to her heart.
The stories of Ben and Jess, and Jamin and Daisy continue in Worthy To Love

Will Daisy manage to find her way home to her own time, or will Jamin convince her to marry him, after all? Will Jess change Ben's mind to accept he is free to love her? Will Millicent reveal her real reason for being at Weltevreden? What other secrets are protected in Roxanne's room?

Book 2, the final episode in Roxanne's Ghost,

Worthy To Love

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International bestselling author Maggie Tideswell is a South African with a passion for romance. Love really is all around us. People fall in love in mysterious way and in the most unexpected circumstances. Ghosts just can't seem to leave her alone and she combines things that can't be explained, sweaty bodies and rumpled beds in a way that will make your toes curl and your hair stand on end.

She is nearly as passionate about food as she is about creating alpha heroes every woman will fall in love with, just as she does, every time. The strangest thing is that cats have never played any kind of role in her stories, as she is owned by three of them. That might change soon.

For more information about her books, visit: www.ghostly.co.za/

