Bishop's Rock. Amanda Stevens

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СКАЧАТЬ got up and walked into the bathroom to splash cold water on her face. Patting her skin dry, she stared at her reflection as she’d done dozens of times over the past several days, searching features that were as strange to her as the man next door. Brown hair, hazel eyes, light to medium complexion. She was attractive, but not a woman to turn heads. Rather, she would blend easily into a crowd. Even without all those fading bruises, no one would give her a second look without Andrew Westin at her side.

      Which begged so many questions. How had the two of them met? How long had they been together? When and where had they been married?

      All in due time, Lea. The doctor warned against overwhelming you. Once we’re all settled in at the retreat, we can start filling in the blanks little by little.

      She went back into the bedroom to unpack, snipping off tags with the cuticle scissors she found in a well-stocked makeup bag. At the bottom of the suitcase was a stack of new underwear, nothing too racy, but the lacework was beautiful. She found shoes, too—sneakers, sandals, heels. A pair for every occasion. Lea wanted to enjoy the elaborate purchases, but it seemed like such a waste when she undoubtedly had everything she needed at home.

      But maybe she didn’t. Maybe she’d moved everything out of their house when they decided to take a break. Andrew might not have a key to her new place. He might not even know her address. Instead of telling her the truth, he’d bought her a new wardrobe to mask the seriousness of their marital situation.

      Don’t borrow trouble, Lea warned herself as she finished unpacking.

      She hung dresses in the closet and stored T-shirts and jeans in a dresser drawer. As she lifted the lingerie from the suitcase, a photograph fell to the floor. She bent to pick it up, the task at hand completely forgotten as she sat down on the edge of the bed to study the couple in the image. It had been taken of her and Andrew at sunset at the top of Bishop’s Rock. Their backs were to the camera, but something about the ease and intimacy of the pose triggered not a memory, exactly, but a fleeting sensation of déjà vu. Andrew’s arm was draped around her and her head lay against his shoulder. Their bodies were pressed closely together as if they couldn’t bear even an inch between them.

      Tears of frustration stung Lea’s eyes. How could she have forgotten the beauty of that sunset and the contentment of that moment? How could she have forgotten the feel of her husband’s arms around her or the whisper of his lips against her hair? How could she have forgotten him?

      She checked the back of the photograph, but there was no date or inscription. Nothing at all written to commemorate the moment. She wondered if that climb had been only one of many adventures during the course of their marriage.

      After propping the photograph against the dresser mirror, she went out to the balcony to enjoy the late-afternoon breeze. Leaning her forearms against the railing, she stared across the rugged countryside, trailing her gaze up the vertical face of Bishop’s Rock. Hard to believe she’d once climbed to the top for the simple pleasure of viewing a sunset. The shadowy summit seemed forbidding to her now and as mysterious as her past.

      The back of her neck prickled as a feeling of being watched crept over her. She slid her gaze across the landscape, telling herself she was imagining things. After everything she’d been through, it was only natural to be wary. Nightmares still plagued her sleep and she had caught herself more than once glancing over her shoulder for no discernible reason. Even though she couldn’t remember the vicious attack, her instincts had built a protective wall. All her anxieties would start to dissipate as she healed, the doctor had told her. Once she felt safe again, the barriers would come down. Give it time.

      The sun had dropped below the treetops. She could hear the wind in the trees and the eerie whispering sound the water made as it bubbled up from the underground springs. She had just turned to go inside when she caught a movement from the corner of her eye. Someone was coming up one of the trails, walking quickly as if on a mission of some great purpose. Glancing behind him, he left the trail and strode across the grounds toward the house, stopping short at the edge of the patio when he saw her staring down at him.

      Their gazes touched and for a moment, Lea felt suspended in time. Frozen in the terror of her nightmares.

      She knew that man. She didn’t know how she knew him, but she was certain she’d seen him before. He was tall, perhaps even taller than Andrew, slim and as fit as her husband, but there was something unsettling about this man’s vitality. He seemed stealthy and cunning and dangerous.

      He was dressed in jeans, dusty boots and a plain black T-shirt—all of which had seen better days. His dark hair was clipped short for convenience and scruff shadowed his lower face.

      He squinted up at her so that she couldn’t tell the exact shade of his eyes, but they were light and piercing and she imagined them to be as cold as ice.

      Her impulse was to retreat back into the room and lock the door, but the same instinct that had erected those protective walls held her rooted to the spot as a voice in her head whispered, Don’t let him see your fear.

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