Daring The Moon. Sherrill Quinn

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СКАЧАТЬ of the murder-suicide had reached him. He’d cut short his education and come back to Phelan’s Keep immediately—only to be greeted by the horrendous reality and his cousin Miles’s near hysterics. The police had quickly ruled Miles out as a suspect. Forensic evidence substantiated the report that Alexander Merrick had first shot and killed his wife and then turned the gun on himself, lodging a bullet—one he’d made from melted silver—in his brain.

      Everyone was in consensus that Miles had been lucky there wasn’t a bullet fired his way. And while Ryder had never really believed his cousin had anything to do with his parents’ deaths, there was that nagging little voice that whispered maybe….

      And for two decades Ryder had never understood it. Sure, there were things the males of his family had to deal with that affected very few other people in the world, relatively speaking. But it could be dealt with in ways other than death.

      Isolation was Ryder’s solution.

      He pushed his chair away from the desk and stood, turning to gaze out the open veranda doors. Huffing a sigh, he leaned one shoulder against the doorframe and looked out over the ocean.

      Sea birds flew across the surface, their raucous cries floating upward. They reminded him it would only be a few more months before the puffins returned to their nesting grounds on the south of Phelan’s Keep, which was much rockier than this side of the island. He’d always enjoyed the little black-and-white birds’ return each season—somehow they made his life a bit more bearable, a little lighter.

      The morning sun capped the waves with orange and gold topped with reflective silver. A light breeze brought the smell of salty air to him. He inhaled, wishing the air could somehow make him feel renewed. But, as always, he just felt…old.

      He glanced over the immaculate lawn that led to the short stone wall at the edge of the bluff. His only live-in employee, Will Cobb, refused to have someone from one of the main islands come over to keep the grounds, insisting that he was more than capable of performing landscaping work. And he was. The house and grounds looked as good as they did when his parents were alive and had half-a-dozen employees caring for things.

      Ryder scanned the horizon. As far as he could see there was only blue sky and white clouds, though he knew they were due for rain soon. And this time of year storms could be gale-strength.

      Tilting his head to one side, he tried to work out the kinks in his neck. He was on deadline—if he didn’t get these last few changes in to his editor on time, she’d have his balls for breakfast. And while the big house operated off an industrial-sized generator, he’d prefer to get as much done as possible before they were hit by the next storm.

      He grimaced and turned back to his desk. Flexing his fingers, he settled them on the keyboard and got to work. It wasn’t until he heard a knock on the study door that he became aware of the passage of time. He glanced at his watch, surprised to see it was nearly one o’clock in the afternoon. “Come,” he called out.

      His hardworking Guy Friday pushed open the door and walked in carrying a silver tray. His thinning hair brushed just so and dressed in his normal attire—crisp dark suit, starched white shirt, black tie, and shiny shoes—Cobb took his job quite seriously. He set the tray on the desk and proceeded to pour strong black coffee into one of the two large mugs that sat on one side of the tray.

      The aroma wafted to Ryder and his nostrils flared with his deep inhalation. He enjoyed the smell of coffee as much as the flavor. He pushed his laptop to one side and peered at the tray. Next to the mugs were two plates, each holding a meat sandwich. Reaching out, Ryder lifted up one corner of the homemade sourdough bread of the nearest one to inspect the contents.

      “It’s rare roast beef with lettuce, tomato, sweet onion, and brown mustard,” Cobb offered. He lifted a small plate that held homemade chips and placed it in front of Ryder, then did the same with the plate holding the sandwich. “I thought I might be pushing my luck to serve salad for your midday meal two days in a row. You tend to get…overly irritable if you don’t eat red meat on a regular basis.” Moving around to the side of the desk, he picked up a linen napkin and laid the deep burgundy material across Ryder’s thigh.

      Ryder glanced at Cobb and saw the slight smile that kicked up one corner of his employee’s mouth. Ryder grinned in response, shaking his head. “I didn’t realize it was as late as it was.” He grabbed the sandwich and took a large bite. The mustard hit the back of his tongue and burned a pleasant trail into his sinuses. Swallowing, he took another bite. As he chewed, he studied Cobb.

      The other man’s dark hair had thinned on top, leaving him almost bald. His nose seemed larger than it used to be—a part of the aging process, Ryder supposed. While Ryder carried his age well and still looked as if he were on the underside of forty when in reality he was two years past it, Cobb looked every minute of his sixty years.

      “How are the rewrites coming?” Cobb poured himself a cup of coffee. He sat down in one of the leather wingback chairs facing the desk.

      “Slowly. More so than normal.” Ryder leaned back, rocking slightly. “I’m bored with the story. Hell, I’m bored with myself.”

      “You should go on holiday.” Cobb brought his cup to his lips and took a careful sip. “Somewhere with white sandy beaches and nubile young women in bikinis.”

      “We have that here. Well, on the other islands.” Ryder sent him a frown. “But you know I can’t leave Phelan’s Keep.”

      “No, sir, I don’t know that.” Cobb leaned forward and set his cup on the tray. He braced himself with elbows on knees and laced his fingers together. “You are not your father. His madness is not yours.” He shook his head. “Your father was only a few years older than you are now when the…incident occurred.”

      “Don’t remind me,” Ryder muttered. He put his half-eaten sandwich down on the plate and snagged a chip.

      “I’ve seen no indications that you’re becoming unbalanced.” Cobb met his gaze. “You’re a good man, sir. An honorable man. One with the notion that what you’re doing is the only course of action. I disagree. However,” he went on, leaning back in his chair, “it’s clearly not my place to tell you what to do.”

      “I value your opinion.” Ryder scrubbed his hand along the back of his neck. “It’s just not that simple. It isn’t simple now and it wasn’t simple then.”

      “It certainly didn’t help matters having Miles underfoot all the time.” Cobb picked up his own sandwich. “Always nattering at your father about one thing or another.”

      “Yes, well, Miles had his own set of challenges, that’s certain.”

      Cobb rolled his eyes, making Ryder grin. “You and your father were both too lenient with the boy,” the older man said. “I understand the trauma he suffered, losing his parents at such a young age, but there comes a time—or at least there should—when we grow up and take responsibility for our lives.” Cobb picked up his cup and leaned back in his chair again. “When the two of you were teenagers with barely three years separating you in age, there was still a world of difference in your level of maturity.”

      Ryder snorted. “I’ll say one thing for my cousin—he was more than happy to take credit for anything that made him look good. But when things went wrong, it was always someone else’s fault. Usually mine.” He shook his head. “I wonder on whom he blames things now?”

      “I wonder what’s become of him. It’s been twenty years since he left СКАЧАТЬ