Read A Bewitching Bride Online
Authors: Elizabeth Thornton
A Bewitching Bride (12 page)
Her threat made no impression on him. With the same pitiless stride, he closed the distance between them. Her hand lashed out, but he easily deflected the movement. Clamping his arms around her, he used his weight to flatten her against the wall. Despite her prodigious experience in ministering to the sick and drunks at the clinic, she realized that she was abysmally ignorant of male anatomy, at least when the male was aroused. His body ground into hers. His lips moved on hers in a sensual caress that betrayed a wealth of experience that she did not possess. His hands circled her throat, holding her head up to prolong the kiss. Against her lips, he whispered, “I’ve been dreaming of this from the moment I first saw you.” He increased the pressure of his lips, and the sudden surge of emotion staggered her. Nothing in her life had prepared her for the leap of awareness of everything that was feminine in her nature. She felt like the bewitched beauty in the children’s fable, the girl who had been awakened by a kiss.
He pulled back slightly, his brow puckered in a frown. He was staring at her as though he had fallen off a horse and landed on his head. She knew the feeling. He was stupefied. And she was stupid.
She wrenched herself free and swung away from him, then swung back again. The angry words bubbled up and spilled over. “If you’re looking for a night of debauchery, go find Janet Mayberry. Or is one woman a day not enough for a man of your prodigious appetites?”
His mouth tightened. “How do you know about Janet?”
Her mind froze, then thawed when a way out of her dilemma opened before her. She felt quite smug. How did she know about Janet?
“Ladies have maids, and maids gossip. Ask Mrs. Cardno. Ask my friends. They were highly diverted.”
“Bloody hell! Can’t a man have a private life? Look, nothing happened. I kissed her. So why are you so put out? What does it matter to you?”
Good question. To give herself time to think, she fussed with the trim on her gown.
“You haven’t answered my question,” he said gently.
“It matters,” she said, “because our names are being linked as well. How do you think that makes me feel? You, me, and Janet Mayberry, a ménage à trois.”
He grinned devilishly. “A ménage à trois? Where did you learn about that? A gothic novel?”
“I may be innocent, Mr. Hepburn, but I’m not ignorant. I read the newspapers.” She would never admit to this man that she read gothic novels.
“Innocent?”
She let out a long breath. “Innocent, inexperienced, call it what you will. Now that I’ve gained a little experience, I promise not to attack you again.”
Without a trace of mockery, he said, “I’m afraid I can’t make the same promise. You have been forewarned, Miss Cameron. Now, take a chair. We have a lot to talk about.”
It wasn’t a request. His eyes glittered with a warning. She thought it prudent to accept the chair he indicated by the fire, but she was sore pressed not to pick up the poker.
“I came into your room,” she said, “because I thought you would tell me what happened at the police station.”
He took the chair opposite hers, and after giving her one of his enigmatic stares, he slouched down and inclined his head. “The police were satisfied with the obvious explanation, that Will’s death was an accident. I spoke to the medical examiner, and he was of the same opinion. Of course, they didn’t know about the attack on you.”
“What about our statements?”
“I was getting to that. I told them exactly what we’d agreed on, that you heard a dog howling, went to investigate, and became disoriented. They know we spent the night together.”
When she bit down on her lip, he quickly interjected, “Kate, we can’t pretend that it didn’t happen. The gillies saw us. And it’s in our signed statements. You knew that.”
“It’s not that.”
“What then?”
“Isn’t it possible that Dr. Rankin’s death
was
an accident?”
was
an accident?”
“No. Hear me out. I overlooked something I should have noticed before. There was an empty whiskey bottle beside Will’s body. You remember that you smelled whiskey in the hothouse?”
“I remember.”
“The bottle was at the police station. I had a chance to look at it more closely. It was the wrong whiskey. Will only drinks . . . drank single malt. This was an inferior whiskey, possibly from some local still. I pointed this out to Officer Hamilton. His response was to look at me as though I’d imbibed one too many myself.” He gave a deprecating smile.
When she tried to interrupt, he went on in a level voice, “I’m not finished yet. Dalziel told me that Will had received a note, too, but being Will, he didn’t take it seriously. In fact, he laughed it off. He said that it was the ravings of someone who detested psychiaters.” His eyes narrowed on her face. “What?”
“That must be why he seemed agitated when I told him about the note I’d received. That’s why he wanted to meet with me when everyone had gone to bed.” She looked up at him, her eyes tight with horror. “Someone must have overheard us arrange to meet. Whoever murdered Dr. Rankin must have heard every word of our conversation.” She gave a ragged breath. “If only I hadn’t involved him, he might still be alive.”
“No! Will took the threat seriously, whatever he may have told Dalziel. I know, because he tried to confide in me but couldn’t quite bring himself to tell me anything, except that murder was involved. It was Dalziel who told me that three people connected to the clinic in Aberdeen had died accidentally: Dr. Rosner was the first.”
“Dr. Rosner?” She nodded. “I’d heard that, but he retired a long time ago. Who would even remember that he was once connected to the clinic?”
“The other victim was someone Dalziel knew only as Daft Daffy. He fell into the harbor and drowned.”
Again, she nodded. “He was a vagrant. His only connection to the clinic was that he’d come in for a hot meal or a place to sleep when the weather drove him in.” She looked up at him. “Who was the third victim?”
“A prostitute who plied her trade down on Regent Quay. She went by the name of Annie Laurie. She was beaten to death.”
She shook her head. “Poor girl. There are so many of them. No one mentioned it to me.”
“It’s not the kind of thing Dalziel would mention to a lady.”
“No, I suppose not.”
He leaned forward in his chair. “Will said that he would tell me more when he talked to someone in Aberdeen. That was where he was going if the trains were running. Have you any idea who Will might have been thinking of? Who would he talk to in Aberdeen?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. But you should talk to Dr. Taggart. He has been at the clinic long before my time.”
“I know I’ve asked you this before, but is there anyone who might wish you ill?”
“No.”
Her mind was still dwelling on the people who had met with suspicious accidents. Her voice was whisper soft. “That would mean,” she said, “that the vile creature who attacked me has already murdered four people, five if we count Annie Laurie.”
“Yes,” he replied tonelessly.
“Maybe more.”
“It’s possible.”
She jumped to her feet, paced to the window, then returned just as abruptly to the chair she had vacated. “We have to tell the police everything,” she said. “They
must
listen to us now. If we can’t convince them, other people may die.”
must
listen to us now. If we can’t convince them, other people may die.”
“It won’t work.”
The conviction in his voice infuriated her. “How can you say that? The police aren’t stupid. They know what they’re doing.”
He shook his head. “It’s too late now. As I said before, anything we would say would be highly suspect. Let’s not complicate things. We can’t prove that someone attacked you. As it is, they think that we invented the story about the howling dog to make it appear that our night together was innocent. I’m sure in my own mind, however, that the police believe we are lovers and that you slipped away to be with me.”
“What? That’s nonsense! No one in his right mind would think that you’d be interested in someone like me or vice versa. We’re too different. Opposites, in fact.”
“Opposites attract, or so I’ve heard.” One side of his lip curved.
She scowled. “Don’t start that again.”
He laughed. “Oh, we’ll get to that later, but right now I want you to pay attention to what I say. Here’s the conundrum. Assuming that all the victims received notes like yours, what was the murderer’s purpose in advertising the fact that his victims were all connected to the clinic?”
She thought for a moment and shook her head. “I don’t know. What do you think?”
His eyes were no longer blue but as black as coal. “I think that there was only one target. I think that the others were camouflage, you know, misdirection to confuse the authorities.”
She wasn’t following his logic. “But the police don’t have the notes, so how can they be misdirected?”
“Oh, I’m sure that this villain will think of a way to correct his error.”
Now her mind was going in circles. “Who was the real target?”
He gazed at her through the thick veil of his lashes.
Her voice came out a squeak. “Not me!”
“We’ll have to wait and see.”
“What does that mean?”
“We’ll put my theory to the test.”
She stopped breathing as she scanned his words. “How do we do that?” she asked slowly. A horrible suspicion was beginning to take root in her mind.
Hands clasped, he leaned forward and pinned her with his stare. “You’ll never feel safe till we catch this monster. We have to lure him into the open. Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“You mean . . .” She could hardly believe what he was suggesting. “I’m to be the bait?” In her mind’s eye, she saw a little goat tied to a stake, bleating for his mother, while a big black panther edged closer and closer.
“No!” The violence in his voice made her start. “You’re a target, not bait. I let that monster get to Will. I’m not going to let him get to you, too. I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe.”
She realized that this wasn’t about her. It was about his friend Will Rankin. This was about revenge, and she would be the pawn to entice Dr. Rankin’s murderer to overreach himself. She wasn’t unwilling. She owed Gavin Hepburn her life. Dr. Rankin had not been as lucky as she. Her only defense was that she wasn’t that brave.
When he closed the distance between them and grasped her hands, she flinched from the contact. He sank down on his heels till they were eye to eye. “I’m not letting you out of my sight until that murdering devil is behind bars or hanging from a gibbet.”
“And how will you mange that?”
The tense lines in his face relaxed, and he managed a faint smile. “You, my dear Kate, are about to acquire a bodyguard, two, if you count Macduff. Where you go, we go. We’ll become inseparable. I’ve also arranged for a chaperone to keep tongues from wagging.”
She thought that a chaperone just to convey her to her home was a bit excessive, and she wondered whose good name he hoped to protect—his or hers.
She said dryly, “A chaperone won’t help. Tongues are already wagging about you and Miss Mayberry.”
When he scowled at Kate, Macduff pushed between them and started to whine. “That’s right, boy,” said Kate. “You look after me, and I’ll look after you.”
Gavin ignored his dog. His voice was tight. “It was a lapse in judgment, nothing more. Let me repeat myself. Nothing of any significance happened.”
She raised her brows. “Oh? Why not?”
“Because, my dear Kate, I felt as though you were looking over my shoulder.”
The oddly speculative look in his eyes made her skin heat. He couldn’t possibly know how close he was to the truth, could he? She answered him lightly. “A ménage à trois? You must be dreaming.” To distract him, she said quickly, “So, who is this respectable chaperone you mentioned? Oh, no, don’t tell me it’s Mrs. Cardno.”
“How did you know?” He sounded surprised.
“She said that she was ready for an adventure. Is that why she carries a cane? To protect me?”
“It wasn’t my idea, but it’s a good idea.”
She thought for a moment. “What if you’re wrong? What if someone else is the target, someone who has no idea that a murderer may be stalking him or her?”
He shrugged. “I can’t protect everyone.”
His indifference shocked her. “That sounds heartless!”
His lips flattened, and he rose to his feet, forcing her to look up at him. “Contrary to what you may think of me, I haven’t washed my hands of them.”
She watched as he walked to the table by the bed and turned up the lamp. “That’s better,” he said. “Now I can see your face.”
He took his chair again. “When I was in Ballater, I took the opportunity of telegraphing my brother. He and his family are in London right now. I know I can count on him to be on the first train to Aberdeen and start making inquiries at the clinic. Does that satisfy you?”
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