The Witch Of Stonecliff

“I’m not worried,” Kyle replied.

“How strange. Why is that?”

“Even if Ms. James were indeed guilty, with an investigation going on, I should imagine her own self-preservation would keep me safe.”

“But surely you’ve heard the story of the frog and the scorpion? The frog carries the scorpion across the river and the scorpion stings him even though they both will die because the scorpion can’t help what it is.”

Dull fury pulsed behind her eyes. Eleri strode into the room and pinned Warlow with a hard stare. “In your cautionary tale where I’m the scorpion and Kyle the frog you left out yourself; the big, fat toad.”

Warlow let out a long suffering sigh from where he stood before the fireplace. “I meant nothing by it, Eleri. You had concerns about Mr. Peirs’s motivations for staying here while there was a murder investigation in the works. This dinner is to help alleviate those concerns.”

“So the abject humiliation was for my benefit. I should have realized.” Eleri lowered herself to the edge of the settee, half-tempted to sit on her hands to keep from throttling the butler. “You may leave and see to my father now.”

She risked a glance at Kyle. He watched her, a bemused smile curling his lips, lounging in a frayed chair near the fireplace. She suddenly wished she had worn something else.

He looked good in dark charcoal trousers, a white shirt untucked—which looked casual rather than sloppy—and navy jacket. His brown hair, a tad too long, was swept back away from his forehead, revealing the long lines of his face, straight nose, slightly pointed chin. Those smoke green eyes stood out bright against the dusky hue of his skin.

He really was an attractive man. The only thing marring all that perfection was the jagged scar at his neck.

“Your father’s resting,” Warlow said, dragging her attention away from Kyle. Probably not a bad thing; she was on the verge of staring. The butler nodded to the hissing baby monitor. “As he’s too ill to join you, he’s asked that I stand in for him while we get to know Mr. Peirs better.”

Of course he would. Warlow had been pulling her father’s strings for as long as she could remember. Even before his illness took root, Arthur James deferred to his butler for nearly every decision. Now that her father was bedridden, was it any wonder Warlow behaved as though he owned the place?

Though, for all she knew, once her father was gone Hugh Warlow might own Stonecliff. She doubted Arthur would leave the estate to either her or her sister. A small flicker or relief lit inside her at the possibility.

“What made you choose our neck of the woods, Mr. Peirs, given the current goings on?” Warlow asked.

Eleri frowned. Something had shifted between yesterday and today. Suspicion laced the butler’s false cheer.

“Money, quite frankly. You’re charging considerably less than other houses I looked at. While I’ve set some money aside for this little sabbatical, without a steady income I need to conserve where I can.”

“Did you quit your last job?” Eleri asked.

He shook his head. “A six month leave to say I gave it a shot.”

“Had you visited the area before?” Warlow’s chilly gaze was in complete contrast to the wide smile stretched across his face.

Kyle pinned him with an icy stare all his own. “Never.”

Eleri’s gaze shifted between the two men, the tension in the air thickening. Was Kyle lying? Had he been to Cragera Bay before, and did Warlow know him somehow?

“I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but that must have been a terrible injury to your neck.”

The younger man’s eyes narrowed, features hardening.

“Hugh!” Eleri snapped. She couldn’t believe how rudely he was behaving. Normally, he was a model of decorum. Pompous and condescending, but always well mannered.

“It was,” Kyle agreed.

“I’m sorry if I appear rude,” Warlow said.

“If?” Eleri cut in.

Warlow shot her an impatient glare. “Eleri was concerned that such an injury indicated ties to a criminal past.”

Her eyes rounded. Her face burned. Kyle swung his gaze to hers, one corner of his mouth curling up in a smirk. “Really?”

“No.” She shook her head. “That’s not true.”

“That’s exactly what you said.” Warlow’s white brows pulled into a frown, his voice annoyingly patient. “We want to ease your concerns about his character.”

“You had doubts about my character based on this?” Kyle traced a finger over the ridge of scar tissue.

Why couldn’t the floor open up and swallow her? “He’s taking what I said out of context. I meant that he didn’t know anything about you, that you could have had criminal ties.”

That didn’t sound any better.

Kyle let out a dry chuckle and lifted his right hand as if swearing an oath. “I promise this isn’t the result of any criminal activity on my part. Does that set your mind at ease?”

Not really. The best way to set her mind at ease would be to stop talking about it.

“What sort of accident, if you don’t mind me asking?” Warlow said.

Kyle stared at the man for a long moment before finally replying, “Traffic collision.”

“Did the recovery take long?”

“Yes.”

“I’m so sorry for what you must have gone through. Where about was the accident?”

“Outside London. Were you hoping to gather enough clues to verify my story? Do you need the date, the hour of the accident? Perhaps a look at my medical records?

Warlow turned his attention to her and asked, “Eleri?”

There wasn’t a hole big enough for her to crawl into. She shook her head.

A part of her wanted to blurt out that she had nothing to do with Warlow’s probing, but she had suspected him of a criminal past. So when had her opinion changed? When he came to her rescue with Steven Paskin?

“I’m sorry,” she told him.

His light green eyes held hers. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for.”

The low rasp of his voice shivered along her skin and a thin flutter tickled low in her belly. She frowned and dropped her gaze to the floor. What was that about? But she already knew. She found him attractive. Desirable. And that was dangerous for them both.

Look how things had turned out for Griffin.

“Dinner has been set in the dining room.” Mrs. Voyle’s sharp voice cut through the tension like a jagged blade. She stood in the doorway, buttoning her coat. “You’ll need to come straight away if you want your dinner hot.”