The Witch Of Stonecliff. Dawn Brown

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СКАЧАТЬ Warlow?” Eleri demanded, dragging away the woman’s attention.

      “In the study. Who’s this?”

      Eleri ignored the question and crossed to the door on her right. Of course he was in the study. The past weeks he’d been locked away, door closed with explicit instructions that he wasn’t to be disturbed. But she’d disturb him now, all right. Who in the hell did he think he was, leasing property without even discussing the matter with her?

      She flung the door open and marched into the room. Warlow’s head snapped up, but his furious glare didn’t slow her down. Instead, she pointed at the man standing in the open doorway. “Explain.”

      Warlow’s nostrils flared slightly as he gathered the papers spread before him into a pile, then turned to Kyle and shot him his well-practiced phoney smile. “Mr. Peirs, may I assume?”

      Kyle’s mouth twitched. “That’s right. Is there a problem with the lease?”

      Eleri snorted, earning another hard glare from the butler.

      “No problem,” Warlow said, voice warm as honey. “Would you mind giving us a moment?”

      “Not at all.” Kyle’s knowing smirk curled his mouth once more as if guessing how this argument was about to turn out. Hair bristled at the back of Eleri’s neck.

      She glared at the butler until the door clicked closed behind her.

      “He has to go.” She sank into the chair opposite the desk, leaning an elbow on the arm. For a long moment, silence stretched between them. The only sound was the hiss of the baby monitor and her father’s rattling breaths through the speaker.

      Warlow had yet to find a replacement for her father’s nurse and had taken on the duties in the meantime. The role was a good fit, really, since the man rarely left her father’s side. Even before the emphysema.

      Warlow drew a deep breath, leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table, pressing his palms together as if in prayer. “You’re over reacting.”

      Of course she was. Poor high-strung Eleri. And poor rationale Hugh, having to deal with her. She grit her teeth so tight, her jaw ached. “Am I? I can’t think of a worse time to let that property.”

      “Was it not you sending out adverts all over the country to lease the space?”

      “That was before police pulled twelve bodies from The Devil’s Eye.”

      He sighed loudly. “Bodies or not, as you’ve pointed out so many times, the estate needs income. Mr. Peirs contacted me two weeks ago, eager to move into the lodge. Convenient timing, I’d say.”

      A little too convenient. “Two weeks? You couldn’t have possibly investigated him thoroughly. And after what happened with Reece…”

      She let the words hang. Warlow’s gaze narrowed slightly, barely discernible to the untrained eye.

      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 СКАЧАТЬ