The Witch Of Stonecliff

Direct hit. She bit her lip to keep from smiling.

Eleri had mixed feelings about her sister’s boyfriend. He’d taken a job at the estate while working with the detective determined to see her blamed for murders she hadn’t committed, but he’d also saved Brynn’s life and helped prove Ruth was a killer. Eleri would always be grateful.

Warlow’s feelings about the man were much more straightforward. He was furious.

“Reece was an error in judgement.”

“How will this one be any different?” She nodded at the closed door. “What do you know about him?”

“He’s an author looking to get out of the city while he writes his book.”

At the word author, Eleri stiffened. “How do you know he’s not some sleazy reporter here for a story?”

After all, she’d had experiences with tabloid reporters before. One in particular had coined the phrase The Witch of Stonecliff.

“When I spoke to him over the phone, he told me he writes science fiction.”

“What books has he published?”

“I’ve no idea.”

The admission sent a fresh wave of anger rolling through her. “Of course you don’t. You shouldn’t be making these decisions without consulting me first.”

Something gleamed in his light blue eyes and he smiled. “Your father trusts my judgement.”

Translation: your father doesn’t trust you. He thinks you’re all the things people say.

Witch.

Evil.

Killer.

Tension hummed through her body, frustration radiating from the inside out. She was going to lose this argument. Already she could feel her footing sliding out from under her, as if she were standing at the edge of an embankment, the ground crumbling away beneath her. Still, she had to try to make the man see sense.

“Did you or my father happen to get a look at his neck before entering into this little arrangement? Someone tried to slit his throat. A writer? God knows what kind of trouble the man’s been in with a scar like that and willing to live here.”

Warlow frowned a moment, smile vanishing. “A scar?”

“That’s right. Like this.” Eleri traced the shape over her own throat with her finger.

Warlow shook his head. “He’s a warm body, willing to pay for the space. At this stage, we can’t hope for much better. With everything happening on the estate, who knows how long it could take to find someone suitable.”

“But that’s just it, isn’t it? You don’t know that he’s suitable. You don’t know anything about him, except that he’s a writer. He could be some bloody starving artist. How can you even be certain he’ll pay the rent once he’s in there?”

“He’s agreed to a six month lease. He’s already paid the first three months in advance.”

His words gave her pause. “Three months?”

Warlow leaned back in his chair, smug smile stretching wide across his face. And no wonder. He was aware of how desperate their situation had become. Running the estate took a lot of money and taxes were due at the end of summer. Three month’s rent for the lodge wouldn’t be enough to save them, but it would certainly help.

“You’re absolutely right, I know almost nothing about the man,” he admitted, confirming everything she feared. “But face facts, my dear, we can’t be too choosy, just now. Your father has already approved the lease.”

Defeat weighed heavy on her shoulders, exhaustion chasing away the last of her anger. Her father would always side in favor of the butler. And Warlow knew it, too.

“We need the money,” Warlow said, gentling his voice. “While I hate to bring this up, if the detective has his way, there may be the additional expense of a legal defense.”

Her chest squeezed, but she remained silent when Warlow stood and opened the door.

Kyle leaned against the far wall, arms folded over his chest. His mouth twitched. “All sorted, then?”

“Sorry to have kept you waiting.” Warlow waved Peirs into the seat next to her before lowering himself back into the chair behind the desk. “Miss James had some concerns.”

“I hope your concerns have been alleviated.” Peirs glanced at her owl-eyed, a faint smile pulling at his mouth.

“They have not,” she snapped, drawing a hard scowl from Warlow. The younger man’s grin widened.

“Please forgive Eleri,” Warlow ground out. “She’s under a great deal of pressure just now.”

“Of course,” Peirs said to Warlow, but his gaze remained fixed on her. “Who could blame her for being careful?”

Money or not, letting to this man was a mistake. “So you’ve heard then, about the bodies in the bog? Twelve men.”

He nodded. “I should imagine everyone’s heard.”

The truth in his words iced her blood. Good God, this was so much worse than the last time she’d caught the media’s attention.

She drew in a deep breath, hardening herself against the panic building inside her. “I have to wonder why in the world you’d willingly stay knowing that.”

“I had my eye on Morehead Lodge before your unfortunate discovery, but had some loose ends to tie up first. “ Kyle smiled. “You have the agreement for me to sign?”

Warlow nodded and slid a thin stack of papers toward him. “I believe you’ve already had the chance to review the lease.”

“I have.” He accepted the pen Warlow held out and scribbled his signature on the last page.

Eleri sat next to him, dismissed and forgotten. Dull anger beat behind her forehead. These two men, doing as they pleased, suiting themselves. Warlow after the money and Peirs after the lodge. But it was her life teetering on the edge of ruin.

“You’re a writer, aren’t you?” Eleri asked.

Kyle glanced at her before turning back to initialling the lease. “That’s right. If you’re worried I’m here after a story, you needn’t. I’m a fiction writer.”

“Really? Would I have read anything you’ve written?”

“Unlikely. This has been a recent career change.”

Her gaze narrowed. “Before this career change, what did you do?”

He pushed the signed lease to Warlow. “I was a technical writer for an electronics company. Quite dull, really.”