Knowledge Revealed E-Book

D.S. Williams

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

After a tragedy, Charlotte Duncan moves to the small town of Puckhaber Falls with one purpose: to end her life.

But when the attention of a stranger takes her by surprise, Charlotte begins to reconsider her plan. She finds herself drawn to the mysterious Lucas Tine, and doesn't know why.

Soon, Charlotte's life turns upside down as she discovers a shocking truth about her new lover - and of her own past.

Leseprobe

Knowledge Revealed

THE NEMEMIAH CHRONICLES

BOOK ONE

D. S. WILLIAMS

Contents

Prologue

1. Endings

2. Questions

3. The Falls

4. Introductions

5. Decision Time

6. Dreams, or Nightmares?

7. Rowena

8. Visions

9. Secrets Revealed

10. Recovery

11. Generosity

12. Ghosts from the Past

13. Cravings

14. Cooking 101

15. Imprinting

16. Warnings

17. Waiting Game

18. The Minutes Tick by Slowly

19. Options

20. Exile

21. Thirst

22. Reunion

23. Surgery

24. Spirits Released

25. The Bet

26. Billings

27. Options

28. Wedding Preparations

29. Puckhaber Falls

30. Jealousies

31. Considerations of Murder

32. Gerard DuBonet

33. Danger

Next in the Series

About the Author

Books by the Author

Copyright (C) 2015 D.S. Williams

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2019 by Next Chapter

Published 2019 by Next Chapter

Cover art by CoverMint

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

To my husband, Steve.

You've believed in me, encouraged me and supported me through this entire adventure.

Without your unconditional love and confidence in my abilities, I would never have been brave enough to take this step.

Thank you.

Prologue

I took one last glance around the minuscule living room of the stone cottage, making up my mind on the spot. I was aware of the realtor behind me, her eyes focused on my back as I deliberated. She'd no doubt struggled to rent this place for months; it was unkempt, old-fashioned, and tiny. And perfect for my needs.

When I turned around her eyes were fixed on me, her countenance hopeful. She looked faintly ridiculous in a claret skirt, tailored white shirt, and sky-high heels – which had dug into the muddy ground as we made our way inside just a few minutes ago. I mentally reprimanded myself for being so judgmental, the realtor had been friendly and polite from the outset, introducing herself as Maude Yeardley – and it wasn't her fault I'd chosen to view a house in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by dirt and mud. “I'll take it.”

Was that relief on her face? I wondered idly. It seemed my assumption had been correct and she'd had this one on her books for a considerable period.

On the drive back to the tiny township of Puckhaber Falls, Maude made small talk, giving me information about the locality, advice about the residents and gossip. Mainly gossip. Besides being the town's lone realtor, she apparently knew the personal business of every single inhabitant. It didn't matter to me. My stay here wouldn't be a social event, so to be honest; I didn't really care one way or the other. I would see as little as possible of the other nine hundred and forty two inhabitants and my stay would be as brief as I could manage.

My only intention in Puckhaber Falls was to work up the courage to kill myself, and release my soul from the never-ending pain I'd endured for the past two years.

Chapter1

Endings

Moving into my new residence took a remarkably short period – my needs were few, my possession crammed in the back of my '68 Volkswagen Beetle. A duffel bag contained my wardrobe in its entirety, consisting of faded denim jeans, t-shirts, and sweaters. I'd never been particularly fashion conscious and this lack of awareness had increased exponentially in recent months; to the point where I threw on clothes each day with little regard for what I was wearing. I hadn't glanced at a mirror for months – I didn't care what I looked like or how other people perceived me.

A second bag contained my meager linen supplies; a couple of tea towels, two bath towels, a mat for the bathroom floor. There were no sheets, my only bedding requirements being a sleeping bag and a pillow. I never slept a lot anyway.

One box was unpacked in the kitchen – containing a saucepan, a skillet, and a battered old kettle. My eating utensils – a fork, a spoon, and a knife. And of course, a can opener. My meals consisted mainly of cans, which could be opened, contents thrown into a saucepan, and heated. I owned one plate, one bowl and a mug. There'd never been a need for more than that in my travels, as I didn't entertain and never invited visitors to my latest residence.

The bedroom took minutes to arrange – by the time I'd assembled the camp stretcher, thrown a sleeping bag and pillow on top of it, and tipped the empty box from the kitchen upside down to perform as a bedside table, I was done. My favorite books – Wuthering Heights, A Tale of Two Cities, Jane Eyre and a compendium of William Shakespeare – were placed on top of the box for the nights when sleep too often eluded me.

In the living room, I unpacked my most treasured possessions – a foldable easel, tubes of paint in many colors, a palette, and my brushes – all the assorted paraphernalia I needed to earn a small income. Later in the week, I would locate the nearest Goodwill and seek out a cheap armchair to complete my furnishings.

Once I'd finished unpacking and arranging the little cottage, I stood back to admire my handiwork, satisfied that everything had a place. Not that there was a lot of room, the cottage consisted of one miniscule bedroom, a tiny living area, a small kitchen and a bathroom. The inside was reasonably clean, the outside remarkably overgrown. Located on the outskirts of Puckhaber Falls, the cottage stood at the northernmost end of town, located off the interstate and hidden down a short gravel drive. There were three quarters of a mile between the nearest neighbor and myself – exactly the way I liked it. Alone was my preferred place to be. My last stop had been in North Dakota and I'd stayed three months, in another small town. I'd stayed until the locals got too friendly – when people began to know my name, it was time to get out of Dodge.

The goodbyes were always the same – people who considered themselves my friends, waving farewell. I went through the motions each time, saying and doing all the right things, to let them believe I was sorry to be leaving. It was a lie. The only emotion I felt as I promised to write, or email or call was relief. Relief to be escaping sentiments I was no longer capable of feeling.

I was drawn to the peace and quiet of small towns; the isolation helped me to stay aloof, and I preferred the ambiance. I would invariably do as I'd done here in Puckhaber Falls – drive into town, locate a realtor, lease something small and out of the way. I didn't want neighbors, didn't need people peeking at me from across the road, or trying to strike up a conversation by the mailbox. I didn't want people to know me. I would only lease something if I could take it on a monthly basis, avoiding a long-term commitment. In the back of my mind was the conviction that I wouldn't be on this earth long, and why complicate matters by letting a realtor think she had a long-term tenant? I preferred a four-week window of opportunity to escape, should my plans to depart this life not come to fruition as soon as I would like.

I avoided friendliness, couldn't permit people to know my inner character. The outer shell of my psyche remained firm, castle walls and battalions holding strong against the possibility of a breach. Behind the castle walls was somewhere no one was permitted. How could I allow it? Behind my strong borders was a tumult of ferocious emotions, flowing like a vortex around my crushed heart. Nobody was allowed to peek behind the walls to discover the inner agony. I couldn't allow anyone in, wouldn’t consider loving someone, caring for anyone. I had no heart left to care. My heart had been destroyed two years ago and now I wandered the country, a fragile shell of humanity, seeking a way to end my life.

I prepared dinner – a can of beef ravioli, heated on the dilapidated stovetop which was probably older than I was. My needs in the last months of my life were simple, although I did use my manners and tipped the saucepan's contents into a bowl before I perched on the porch steps outside to eat. I reminded myself again about the need for a chair.

Darkness was already falling in this northern area, abetted by the canopy of ancient trees surrounding my new home, casting deep shadows around the cottage. The porch light wasn't working, but a cheery pool of light flowed from inside, allowing me to see my meal.

Tomorrow I would drive into town, pick up some supplies, and approach the small craft store to see if they'd be willing to sell my paintings. This had been my approach in numerous moves over the past two years, usually affording a small income to supplement the meager funds in my bank account. If things appeared promising, I'd find that Goodwill and buy an armchair. If things didn't seem promising, there was always the little porch to sit on until I figured something out. My grandmother used to say something would turn up when you least expected it and I heard her voice, using the idiom I'd heard repeatedly before she died. For a split second I dwelled on the memory, then pushed it back into the tidy box where I stored all the things I didn't want to think about.

A deep sigh escaped my lips as the last light disappeared on the horizon. It was peaceful and as the darkness deepened, sounds from the forest caught my attention. Small animals had crept from their daylight hiding places to forage and a wolf bayed in the velvety night. The air was heavy with the scent of pine and the musty rich scent of damp earth.

It was so quiet, I could hear the gentle splash of water from a nearby river. I wondered idly if this was the water source, leading to the falls for which the town had presumably been named. The forest seemed the ideal place to hike, somewhere to go and think in peace. As peaceful as my chaotic mind ever allowed, at least.

I stood up and yawned before walking inside, letting the screen door bang behind me. It had been a long day and I hoped the extreme weariness consuming me was a promising sign. I'd fought insomnia for so long now, exhaustion had become second nature; but I hoped the long drive from North Dakota might aid in achieving at least a couple of hours of unbroken sleep.

I washed up the dishes, brushed my teeth, and slipped into the cold sleeping bag, rubbing my feet back and forth to create a warm patch. For a long time I lay curled on my side, listening to the strange sounds from the forest outside and trying to distinguish one creature from another. I heard a wolf again, and then a second, and it seemed they were calling to each other across the darkened forest, seeking one another in the inky blackness.

Close to the window came scuffling sounds, as though some woodland inhabitant was investigating my arrival. I wondered what it was. Perhaps a squirrel or maybe a skunk. Whichever it turned out to be didn't matter; I had no fear of the forest or what lay within its boundaries. I was happy to share my world with the animals. They asked no questions, sought no responses, and didn't give a damn for what I was thinking.

When I eventually fell into a restless sleep, my nightmares were filled with memories that could be suppressed during the day, but not in the long hours of night.

* * *

“You must be the new girl.” It was issued as a statement rather than question and she was openly curious as she smiled from behind the counter in the local grocery store. “I'm Lonnie Stewart.”

I smiled weakly. “Charlotte Duncan.” I didn't bother adding that people more often than not called me Lottie. For starters, I wasn't planning on being any friendlier than I needed to be and secondly – well, 'Lottie and Lonnie' just sounded like some lame television program for preschoolers.

Lonnie was about my age, with silky auburn hair drawn into a ponytail, clear brown eyes, and a trim figure beneath a navy smock. 'Puckhaber Quikmart' was embroidered on the left lapel. She had a smattering of golden freckles across the bridge of her nose and long dark eyelashes which would never need the artificial assistance of mascara.

“That's a real pretty name; Scottish, isn't it? Maude told us you were new here; you're renting the old Macock place.” Apparently, this didn't require a response as she went on without pause. “We live a couple of miles away in Cyprus View – you're pretty isolated out there.” I nodded, packing my groceries into a canvas bag as she continued chatting. “You look about the same age as me; I'm going to be twenty in January. How old are you?”

“I turned twenty last month.” Alarm bells were clanging a dire warning inside my head – Lonnie Stewart was looking for a new friend. In all the wrong places.

“Are you going to attend the community college? I'm studying veterinary science and I work here part time to help out with tuition,” she announced brightly.

“No, I'm not.”

Lonnie appeared disappointed. “Oh, that's too bad; I could have introduced you around.” A frown creased her pretty features for a moment, disappearing as quickly as it had emerged when her eyes brightened with sudden enthusiasm. “I know! You can come to Jim's party on Friday night!”

Her unexpected invitation caught me on the hop. I hadn't anticipated it and didn't have a ready excuse on the tip of my tongue. I stood there, utterly tongue-tied – staring blankly as I tried to compose a response. Lonnie appeared not to notice, and began to load my now-forgotten groceries into the other canvas bag.

“It'll be great, give you a chance to meet everyone. It's nothing fancy, just a cookout and some fun. I'll pick you up if you like?” She stopped speaking, glancing up at me expectantly.

“Um,” I began to fumble an excuse, but her enthusiasm defeated me. It was such an open and friendly invitation; I didn't like to hurt her feelings by rejecting it out of hand. “Okay,” I agreed cautiously, already scrambling for a feasible excuse. I'd only been in town for three days and already I'd become mired in a complication. It was swiftly becoming apparent that Puckhaber Falls was too small, too friendly. It was half the size of the previous towns I'd stayed in and the size decrease apparently equated to the locals being more friendly and inquisitive about a new person in their midst. I was annoyed by my own foolishness – at month's end I would get back on the road – if I hadn't succeeded with the suicide plan. I didn't intend to make new friendships.

Picking up the bags, I forced a grim smile for Lonnie and escaped out the door, her words ringing in my ears. “I'll pick you up at seven on Friday night!” The doors closed with a hushed swoosh and my anxiety began to creep upwards. How could I get out of this mess? Worse still, it would have to be done face to face – other than at the Quikmart, I had no way of contacting Lonnie. Lying was one of my weakest traits; I tended to flush to the color of an overripe tomato and couldn't maintain eye contact when I attempted it. It had always been simpler to tell the truth, even as a child I'd found it excruciating to lie to anyone. Given the circumstances of my lifestyle, it would be convenient if I could lie successfully, considering I was constantly trying to keep my distance from people.

The light rain continued to fall, pooling in shallow puddles along the sidewalk.

I shivered a little, hunching my shoulders against the cold. Main Street consisted of barely two dozen stores and one set of traffic lights, which were scarcely needed for the light traffic in town. I glanced down the street towards the craft store I'd visited a few days ago – the owner had been delighted with my paintings and one stood on display in the window. I glanced at the ominous dark clouds overhead, fervently hoping a piece would sell before too long, as I would need money for snow chains.

Head down against the incessant rain, I located my car on the other side of the road, my thoughts returning to Friday night. It would be difficult to wangle a way out of the invitation, particularly as Lonnie was insistent on collecting me. I sighed heartily, dismayed all over again. There was nothing for it, I would just have to visit her at the store tomorrow and make an excuse. Once I'd thought of a valid justification for not attending. That could be my project for the rest of the day – and probably most of the night. I was abysmal at lying to someone face to face…

I stepped out between two parked cars and onto the road, my thoughts a million miles away. A shrill horn blast interrupted my deliberations and I glanced up, eyes wide in alarm. A flash of navy blue – a car going too fast for me to react, even if I could compel my legs to move. My brain was operating in slow motion, something I'd experienced in another stressful moment in the past. I guessed this would be classified as one of those moments.

I did the only sensible thing that came to mind and closed my eyes. I wanted to die and this seemed to be as good a way as any I'd considered to date. Being hit by a car should do the trick, although I did feel somewhat sorry for the driver, who would live with my death for the rest of his life. Not to mention what the impact would do to his vehicle. Waiting for the collision to occur, I wondered if he had accident insurance…

The screeching of tires and the acrid smell of the burning rubber penetrated my senses as I waited patiently for the car to hit me. When it came, the blow wasn't nearly as painful as I'd anticipated – in fact; it seemed more a gentle nudge. A nudge, which threw me backwards onto the dark asphalt and the air left my chest in a sharp whoosh when my skull smacked painfully against the blacktop. For a second or two my eyelids fluttered wildly, before the world retreated into blackness.

“Charlotte? Charlotte! Can you hear me?”

The world remained dark, an inky blackness I couldn't fathom, the pain in my head excruciating. The voice was deep, with a husky tone which made me think of whisky and cigarettes. Cool hands touched my skin, brushing across my fingers and cheeks in the gentlest of caresses. And the smell… well, I didn't rightly know what it was, but the scent was… divine. A potent mix of my favorite aromas enveloped me; the tang of salt on an ocean breeze, the sweetness of peppermint candy, the scent of evergreen trees in the forest – all wrapped up together. With considerable effort, I opened my eyes and discovered a face hovering inches from mine. He looked like an angel, or at least, how I imagined one might look. Extremely pale skin caught my attention initially, his brown hair exceptionally dark in comparison. His jaw was strong and square and he possessed cheekbones that could make a girl cry for what she craved, but didn't have. His nose was perfect, neither too small nor too large in a face that was classically handsome and charmingly rugged. He frowned as I watched and the dark slashes of his eyebrows almost met, his eyes filling with concern and— I'd never seen anything like them before. Too dark to be called truly blue, they were nearly navy in color with radiating swirls of silver, which reflected my ghostly face back at me.

As much as I wanted to try to understand why this fallen angel was beside me, I lost the battle and drifted back into a soothing nothingness.

Chapter2

Questions

The first thing I became aware of was the acute pain in my head; a pounding that gave the impression there was an ice pick wedged in the back of my skull. I groaned, trying to forge a pathway through thought patterns that seemed padded by copious amounts of cotton wool. I'd assumed being dead would be less painful. I'd seen a vision of an angel; surely that meant I’d finally succeeded and left the mortal world? Raising a shaky hand to my head, I discovered a huge lump on the back of my skull. Rubbing my fingers across it thoughtfully, I considered why it would be there in the afterlife. I'd always believed life after death existed, but I figured I would arrive without injuries. Something didn't seem quite right here. A tiny moan escaped my lips when my skull pulsated with another burst of throbbing pain.

“Charlotte? Can you hear me?” The deep voice was composed and gravelly and I recognized it. This was the angel who'd leaned over me after I was hit by the car. Hesitantly opening one eye, followed by the other, I flinched at the brightness of the fluorescent lights overhead until my sight adjusted in slow increments.

My breath caught in my throat – it was the angel. He stood a few feet from the bed, his stance relaxed as he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, his gaze focused on mine. He was the most handsome man I'd ever seen, although clearly not a real angel, as I assumed they didn't wear snug black jeans and casual grey sweaters which stretched across nicely muscular chests. I didn't know whether I was disappointed over this sudden comprehension of his humanity. His eyes were still mesmerizing, even from a distance I could see those unique silver streaks, flashing like lightning in a darkened sky.

“Charlotte?” He repeated my name patiently, and I heard a hint of some emotion in his tone. Concern?

“Am I dead?”

He raised an eyebrow in question as his full lips curled into an easy smile, and my heart skipped a beat, something I'd thought it was well beyond managing. “No, of course not. You're very much alive.”

“Oh.” Shutting my eyes, I ran my fingers over the bump on my head as I considered this revelation. Obviously, the pain was explained. I'd failed – again.

“You sound disappointed.” While his voice remained composed, I heard the curiosity in his tone. His gaze was piercing as he appraised me thoughtfully.

I shook my head, attempting to gather my thoughts. “Where am I?” I queried.

“Puckhaber Hospital.”

I struggled to sit up, trying to get off the bed. “What? I've got to get out of here.” The last thing I needed was a massive medical bill when I had no insurance. My head pounded with the sudden movement and a firm hand pushed me back against the pillows, despite my best efforts to fight it.

“You are not capable of going anywhere. You have a nasty concussion.”

“You don't understand! I can't afford to stay here! I don't have insurance!”

He shook his head, clearly bemused. “You cannot possibly think that's important right now. Besides, I ran you over. The very least I can do is cover your medical expenses.”

I slumped against the pillows, staring at him in open confusion. “You were driving the car?” Somewhere in my befuddled mind, the man and the angel were still hopelessly intermingled.

An amused smile curled the corners of his lips. “Yes, I was. It seems an introduction would be in order. My name is Lucas Tine.”

“Charlotte Duncan…” Comprehension dawned, and I eyed him suspiciously, wondering who this man really was and what he was doing here. Living alone for so long, fending for myself, made me naturally cautious with strangers. Particularly strange men – even extremely handsome ones like this guy. “Wait a second. You already knew my name.”

Those sparkling navy-blue eyes narrowed and he glanced away for a split-second before he regained his composure. “Of course,” he responded smoothly, “you told me after the accident.”

I shook my head firmly, the painful pounding amplified by the small motion. “I know I didn't.”

“Of course you told me your name, Charlotte. You have concussion, you're confused right now.” Lucas's voice was gently reassuring, but I didn't believe him. I was positive I hadn't told him anything. I stared at him suspiciously, and he returned the stare, his expression impassive and revealing nothing. I finally blinked, wondering whether the concussion could have confused me to such an extent. I was stubborn enough to think it hadn't, but my head hurt so badly, I couldn’t put up much of an argument.

“Where's my car?” I demanded, changing the subject. I'd left it parked in Main Street and while Puckhaber Falls was hardly the car-jacking capital of the world, I didn't like the idea of my car being left out there. I loved my Volkswagen dearly, and it was my only form of transport, as tragic as it was. The last thing I needed was for it to be stolen, even if the possibility was remote.

“Relax. Hank from the art store heard about the accident and recognized your… vehicle in the street.” I detected a trace of derision in his voice as he spoke, caught the tiny hesitation. “He arranged to bring it to the hospital, it is parked right outside, and the keys are in the drawer beside you.”

“What's wrong with my car?” I demanded irritably, annoyed by his tone. To an outsider, my car probably looked like crap with the faded red paint, the splits in the upholstery, the rust in the hood. But it was mine, and I loved it.

“Nothing. It does look a little worn out though.”

“That car has gotten me halfway around the country,” I replied curtly. “They built them to last in the sixties.”

He had the audacity to look amused and his eyes twinkled. “If I have offended you, I apologize sincerely.”

My heart did a little flip-flop in my chest, even as I glared at him. It was a peculiar feeling, given that my heart had been lying lifeless for two years. He was clearly the most handsome man I'd ever seen in my life. No – more than handsome – he was striking. Impossibly gorgeous. Perfect pale skin, immaculate dark brown hair, a body suited to a model – everything about him was incredibly attractive. And even from across the room, I could smell that aroma, which was reminiscent of every favorite scent I'd ever savored⁠—

He glanced at the door. “You have visitors,” he announced quietly. “I must go. It was a pleasure to meet you, Charlotte. Goodbye.”

He vanished through the doorway and I stared after his retreating back, stunned by his sudden declaration and rapid departure. The lingering scent was the only sign he'd been here, and in my pain-induced confusion, the question of whether he was an angel crossed my mind again.

The door opened again, seconds after Lucas's departure and I struggled to reclaim my composure as visitors arrived. Lonnie Stewart, Maude Yeardley, and Hank Lucas from the art store trooped in, Maude carrying a bouquet of bright flowers, which she deposited on the bedside cabinet. She leaned over and kissed my cheek, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze as she straightened up. “You gave us quite a scare, honey.”

“Was that Lucas Tine I saw in the corridor?” Lonnie queried cheerfully. Her eyes were filled with curiosity – and shining admiration. “Wow, I wish he'd hit me with his car, if that's what it takes to get his attention.” Away from the Quikmart, Lonnie was wearing black jeans and a snug blue t-shirt, her hair loose around her shoulders and held back from her face by a delicate silver headband.

“Now, Lonnie, Lucas feels just terrible about what happened,” Hank scolded her gruffly. His brown eyes were intense as he carefully studied my head, before giving my arm an awkward pat. “The girls in this town are all crazy about that young man, and they all get 'ornery because he doesn't show the slightest interest in 'em.”

“Mike reckons he's gay,” Lonnie muttered, pouting at Hank's gentle rebuke.

“Mike Young ought to keep his opinions to himself,” Maude responded tartly. “For goodness sake, the rumors I hear about that young man, and he's never anything but respectful to everyone. Keeps to himself, too. Not like some of the other young men around here, drinking and getting wild, causing trouble for Sheriff Davis and his men.”

“So, how're you feeling?” Lonnie asked, hastily changing the subject. “You know, if you didn't want to come to the cookout, you could have just said so. You didn't need to go get yourself run over to get out of it.” Her eyes sparkled with humor, her smile friendly.

“I'm okay.” I smiled bashfully, aware that Lonnie didn't know how close to the truth she was. “A bit of a headache, but I'm fine.”

“It's a good thing Lucas was driving so slow; reckons he was only doing about twenty miles an hour. Even at that speed, you're lucky he's such an excellent driver and can stop that fancy car of his on a dime,” Hank announced. He leaned against the bed and crossed his arms over his chest.

Shutting my eyes briefly, I replayed the accident in my mind. There was no doubt Lucas Tine had been driving much faster than twenty miles an hour, probably closer to fifty. Why did he lie about it, and how had he stopped so quickly? I should definitely be dead, or at the very least, badly maimed. Yet I only had a bump on my head. It didn't make sense.

“You should come to my house and stay a few days when you get out of hospital, honey. I saw Doctor Harding when you were admitted; he says you'll have a headache for a few days yet. I'm not working over the weekend, and I'd love you to stay with me,” Maude suggested, settling on the chair beside the bed. She was dressed informally, in black trousers and a dark red cowl-necked sweater, a heavy gold pendant around her throat. She looked youthful without the realtor uniform and I mentally adjusted my perception of her age. When we first met, I'd thought she was in her late fifties, but with her hair loose around her face and the less structured clothing, I estimated she was a decade younger.

Struggling with still-fuzzy thoughts, I took a moment to compose a response, which would be polite, but still firmly decline her offer. This was another complication; one I didn't need. “Um, thanks, Maude. I'll think about it, see how I'm feeling when I'm released,” I mumbled. The last thing I wanted was to stay at Maude's home and get to know her any better than I already did. “Thank you for the offer though,” I added, not wanting to hurt her feelings.

“I've got good news for you, Lott – your painting sold yesterday.” Hank handed me an envelope, with my name scrawled across the flap. He was grinning, the skin around his eyes crinkled. “Got the full asking price, two hundred dollars. The guy who bought it was super keen, thought it was a wonderful piece and he was blown away by your talent. I've put the landscape on display in the window and we'll see how that goes.”

I peeked into the envelope, both relieved and happy to have some cash flowing in. Two hundred dollars would be a good start towards getting an armchair and snow chains. I smiled at Hank, still clenching the envelope in my fist. “Thank you.”

“No – thank you. You really are a talented artist, Lottie. I was talking to Lonnie on the way in tonight, and she says you aren't planning to attend college. Maybe you should though, they have an excellent arts program up there,” Hank urged.

I was saved from composing another awkward reply when a nurse walked in, her voice crisp and business-like. “Sorry folks, but visiting hours are just about over for tonight.”

My new friends said their goodbyes, and when they'd left the room, the nurse checked my blood pressure, pulse, and temperature. She was a few years older than me, with blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail and a bright smile. “How's the head?”

“Aching,” I admitted. It was somewhat of an understatement, as it was currently pounding.

“You sustained an awfully hard knock. Split the back of your head open, there's a dozen stitches in there.” She poured a glass of water and handed it over, along with a small paper cup. “I have painkillers and sleeping tablets. A good night's rest and you should feel much better. Doctor Harding will be in to see you in the morning.” She adjusted the covers, pulling them up and tucking them in before she left the room, flicking off the overhead lights and leaving me in the relatively soft glow of a night light over the back of the bed.

I lay awake for a long time, replaying the accident repeatedly. I was drifting towards sleep when I opened my eyes, staring into the darkened room in sheer disbelief. Lucas Tine had announced I had visitors, even before they came into the room. How had he known they were there? I thought over the conversation with him, trying to find any clue to suggest he could have heard them out in the hallway, but there was nothing. It didn't make any sense.

When sleep eventually overwhelmed me, my dreams were filled with a pale, breathtaking man with unusually dark blue eyes.

Chapter3

The Falls

The forest was green and lush. With a canopy of massive old trees overhead and thick moss underfoot, it created the illusion that I was the only person on earth. I'd been wandering through the woods for an hour or so, enjoying the peace and solitude the surroundings provided. The area encircling Puckhaber Falls was magnificent, with old growth forests which had covered this area of the country for hundreds of years.

Over the past three weeks, I'd spent a little time each day enjoying the wilderness. Since being released from hospital, I was going from strength to strength in gathering friends I'd had no intention of making. The thought had initially filled me with horror, and I'd considered packing up and moving on at the end of the month's lease, returning to anonymity somewhere else. Only one thing had stopped me.

Lucas Tine.

The crazy thing being, he was the one person I hadn't seen in the past three weeks. I'd naively thought he might come and visit again, but I'd been discharged the following morning. I'd managed to drive home despite the throbbing headache, determined to remain self-sufficient. I’d rather deal with the headache than consider staying at Maude's – the idea of accepting her offer was more than I could tolerate. Although she meant well and wanted to lend a hand, I didn't want any help.

True to his word, Lucas had paid the medical bills – when I checked out of hospital, the receptionist told me there was nothing to pay and I was grateful for his generosity. I'd wanted to thank him personally, but he'd disappeared off the face of the planet.

Casual enquiries with Lonnie yielded some information. Lucas Tine was about twenty-eight years old and she thought he worked in Billings. Rumors suggested he was a lawyer, but like most things with Lucas Tine, details were remarkably sketchy. Lonnie wasn't aware of any family; he lived outside of town and only came in to pick up supplies. He didn't socialize, wasn't married, but apparently didn't date. According to Lonnie, every woman in town thought he was hot and had tried unsuccessfully at one stage or another, to get him to go out on a date. He steadfastly and politely refused every single offer.

I repeatedly questioned why I was interested in knowing anything about him. My plans had been prepared and didn't include a time beyond the next month or two, yet he invaded my thoughts, day and night. While painting, I would catch myself musing over our brief conversations, replaying every millisecond as I attempted to solve the puzzle of how he'd known my name, what clue he'd had to my visitors' arrival. Strolling through the woods, I found myself remembering the addictive aroma he'd exuded. It was nothing I'd ever smelt before; heady, intoxicating and I couldn't recall anything which compared. During brief snatches of sleep, he invaded my mind and the dreams were so vivid, so breathtakingly realistic that I woke from them disorientated and unsettled by his complete invasion of my thoughts. Where my sleep was normally troubled by nightmares, it was now filled with a man who’d completely overwhelmed my senses and occupied more of my thoughts than should be feasible after only two brief meetings. I resented his intrusion on my thoughts, willed myself daily to discontinue what was bordering on an unhealthy obsession. What the hell was wrong with me?

I continued my silent trek through the woods in deep thought. I heard water crashing down onto rocks somewhere nearby and altered my route impulsively towards the sound.

I knew I hadn't told him my name. I knew he'd been driving much faster than twenty miles an hour. How had he stopped the car so quickly if he had been driving faster? How had he known my visitors were coming before there'd been any evidence of them? The questions had gone around and around in my head and I still didn't have any answers. I'd mentioned my concerns to Lonnie, hoping for some insight, but she'd grinned like a fool and said the only thing she concentrated on when she saw Lucas was keeping her legs from turning to jelly. Which I could understand. I'd only met him twice and both times, I'd been suffering from a reasonably severe head injury. Yet I could clearly visualize him, remembering the pale skin, the strong jawline, and chestnut brown hair that only served to accentuate the amazing color of his eyes. His face, his sculpted body – everything about him was ideal.

Most bizarrely of all, when I'd mentioned the remarkable aspects of Lucas's eyes to Lonnie she'd been nonplussed, reassuring me his eyes were a standard, everyday blue. How could she not have seen how unusual they were? I'd never seen anybody with eyes that darker shade of blue before. Regardless of the color, nobody could possibly miss those streaks of silver, which seemed to dance in his irises.

It was easy to see why all the women in town lusted after him. What I couldn't understand was why he wasn't interested in any of them. I'd met several of Lonnie's friends (against my better judgment, as I was still desperately trying to avoid relationships of any kind) and they ranged from averagely pretty through to flat-out beautiful. Lonnie's silly remark about him being gay had been dismissed out of hand, surely, it was some snide remark, made by a person with a jealous nature, and not based in fact. Of course, what did I know? I'd never had a relationship with a man in my life.

And that led to another thought, one that nagged at me incessantly and reduced an already wretched sleeping pattern to continuous insomnia in recent days. How could I care when my heart was no longer capable of caring for anyone? What was the point? My path was laid out, my decision made and mooning over a man was stupid. It was ridiculous to obsess like this about Lucas Tine – if he wasn't interested in the prettiest girls in Puckhaber Falls, he certainly wasn't going to be interested in me.

The sound of rushing water increased in volume and between two ancient firs a fine mist rose over the water, creating a mini rainbow in the dappled sunlight. I slowed down, cautiously picking a safe route towards the river's edge. The water was crystal clear – every rock, every pebble was visible on the sandy riverbed, and the flow of water was smooth and languorous. Thick foliage drooped along the steep banks, trailing into the water. It was a joyous montage of reds and yellows as the trees turned in the cool autumn weather, preparing for winter ahead. There was a steep plunge in the direction of the falls and the water flowed and eddied as the river sped towards the drop. It must have been forty feet from the top of the falls to the river below, the water rushing down the sheer drop and crashing onto the heavy boulders at the base. I stepped steadily closer, my breathing calm as I watched the water roaring across the edge.

This was where I would end my life.

It would be easy this way, quick and leaving no room for uncertainty. One single step and I'd be beyond failing, as I'd done so many times before. It was isolated; nobody was likely to discover my remains and that would solve one issue which had stopped me in the past – the prospect of someone finding me. I wanted nobody in that situation, forced to deal with the trauma of coming across a dead body.

And it would be fast, taking only a few seconds to hit the boulders below. If the fall didn't kill me, death would come swiftly in the icy water. I picked up a small branch and threw it into the water experimentally, watching it spin and twirl towards the edge of the waterfall before plummeting to the rocks below, vanishing under swirling foam and mist.

Satisfied with my plan, I smiled grimly. I was calm and confident, totally at peace with my decision.

Almost intuitively, I took a small step forward, out onto the slimy, moss-covered boulders at the lip of the waterfall. And another. My teeth started to chatter. Only two more steps and my life would be over, two more steps would lead to a serenity that had been missing from my life for so long.

I took one tiny step, mesmerized by the water thundering down the cliff. I was vaguely aware of being wet, the spray wafting up from the falls and landing in fine droplets on my face, running down my neck.

Just one more step.

I lifted my foot, but something hooked firmly around my waist in the same second, snatching me backwards from the falls. I lost my footing on the slippery rocks and tumbled backwards, plunging headfirst into the freezing river. The shockingly cold water took my breath away and I swallowed a large mouthful, my throat and lungs burning. It felt like a thousand needles plunged into my skin as I struggled underwater. Before I had a chance to panic, I was wrenched upwards and found myself facing an infuriated Lucas Tine.

“Are you trying to kill yourself?” he demanded, his eyebrows furrowed together while he glared at me with undisguised fury. His shoulders were stiff with tension, his hands gripped firmly around my upper arms.

Though distracted by the abrupt dunking, I saw the flare of silver in his dark blue eyes, pulsating with energy as he continued to stare down at me. He was waiting for a response and I cowered beneath his angry gaze, feeling like a complete and utter fool. I was soaked through – my jeans, sweater, and the heavy coat I'd been wearing were all wringing wet, and my teeth chattered incessantly. Even if I wasn't freezing, I couldn't answer – what was I going to say? How could I tell this stranger that his guess was correct, and he'd just stopped me from achieving my desire? I did the only possible thing in the ridiculous circumstances. I burst into tears.

Lucas stared in disbelief for a moment before I heard him sigh, then take a deep breath, his stiff shoulders slumping. “You crazy girl,” he muttered. He glanced around; apparently hoping someone would magically come along and help him with the blubbering mess he'd rescued. Emotions flickered clearly across his expression, suggesting he was making up his mind what to do next. He was as wet as I was but showed no physical effects from the cold. Which seemed peculiar, even in my currently frozen and distraught state. He should be frozen, should be shivering as I was. Even as I stood in the middle of the river, up to my thighs in water, I could feel my toes swiftly going numb inside my sneakers.

It seemed Lucas made up his mind, because without warning he scooped me into his arms and strode towards the edge of the river. He managed to climb up onto the bank with minimal effort, even with the added weight of carrying me. Once on the riverbank, he turned northwards and began to run, cradling me against him. I nestled against his shoulder, shaking uncontrollably and rapidly losing sensation throughout my body. I couldn't speak if I wanted to, focusing instead on trying to understand how any man could carry someone the way Lucas was holding me, and run. Not only was he running, but his movements were fluid, suggesting he wasn't putting in any effort. No human could do this – surely, it was impossible?

I couldn't guess how far he ran or where we were headed, but from the limited amount of sky visible over the river, it was rapidly growing dark. Lucas's pace remained steady and I tried to estimate how far we'd come. Three miles? Four? He was the most extraordinarily fit man I'd ever met. He hadn't broken a sweat and his breathing remained as steady as if he were strolling down a street. There was something very weird going on; what he was doing just wasn't possible. 'You just tried to kill yourself,' my head reminded me. 'That's probably given him an exceptional adrenaline boost'. Despite my chilled condition, I knew it wasn't adrenaline giving Lucas these – unbelievable abilities. There was something else going on, entirely. But what?

It was pitch black by the time Lucas's pace slowed and I opened my eyes, glancing around to try to establish where we were. My entire body was freezing and where areas rested against Lucas, they seemed even colder. Everything seemed to be back to front, tipped on its head and I shivered wildly. I was beyond caring about where he was taking me; if it didn't involve getting warmer, I was going to freeze to death.

He'd slowed near a vast house, constructed right on the riverfront. Built of rough-hewn blocks of gray granite, it comprised two stories with gracefully arched windows and white wooden shutters. The porch lights were on, welcoming in the freezing night air.

“Wh— whe— where a—are… w—w—we?” I stuttered.

“My home,” Lucas growled. His voice was filled with irritation and I cringed, knowing it was my fault he was so furious. Had he guessed what I was doing at the falls? It was highly likely – what other idiot would be standing at the edge of a waterfall and stepping closer?

He pushed open the front door and strode purposefully through the house, walking down a hallway to a large bathroom. Only then did he carefully drop me onto the floor, leaning my shivering form against the vanity to ensure I wasn't going to fall. He turned on a shower on the opposite wall, avoiding my gaze and holding his hand under the water as he waited for it to heat up. When steam was wafting towards the ceiling, he beckoned me with a curl of his finger. “Get in.”

I stared up at him in disbelief, my teeth chattering. “With you in here?”

He flashed a grim smile. “Leave your clothes on. If you can promise not to get into any more trouble, I'll get you some dry clothes.”

I nodded and tried to walk across the room, but my frozen legs wouldn't co-operate. In a split-second, he was at my side, supporting me until I got to the shower and helping me step inside the large cubicle. I sank to the floor, letting the steaming hot water fall over my head and onto my icy limbs.

Without a word, Lucas turned and strode from the room, shutting the door behind him. His anger was palpable, his frustration evident and I cringed, knowing I was the cause.

I didn't know how long I sat hunched on the shower floor, but sensation eventually returned to my limbs and I felt almost human again. I slowly got to my feet and considered the bizarre situation. With steaming hot water running over my shoulders, I glanced around the room, admiring its opulence. It was a stunning bathroom, with large, sage green granite tiles on the walls and floors. Warm and inviting, there was an enormous spa next to the shower and the vanity stretched from one end of the opposite wall to the door, ornately framed mirrors placed over the double basins. As I started to thaw out, I considered what to do next. Should I undress and shower properly, or remain clothed and wait for Lucas to return? As if this afternoon's fiasco hadn't been bad enough, I certainly didn't want him walking in and discovering me naked. I was self-conscious, not exactly sure what to do. My gaze flickered around the room again and I noticed a neat pile of clothes sitting on the vanity. I wasn't sure when Lucas had brought them in, or how he'd snuck in without my knowledge, but the opportunity to wallow in this fabulous shower was too tempting to refuse. I tugged off my clothes, squeezing the water out of each item and hanging it neatly over the glass block wall.

Reluctantly dragging myself from the shower, I found a plush bath sheet hanging on a heated towel rail. After drying off, I perused the clothes Lucas had delivered, astounded to find they were mine – fresh underwear, jeans, and a sweater. How had he known where I lived, and how had he gotten inside my house? Just another couple of questions to which I had no answers, and while I was uneasy about this turn of events, I was grateful to be dry and warm. I ran my fingers through my hair, trying to neaten up the tangled mess and glanced at the mirror, to see how much of a disaster it was.

A stranger stared back, and I realized with a jolt how long it had been since I'd looked at a mirror. I barely recognized the girl in the reflection, she was thinner than I recalled, with longer hair, and eyes with dark smudges around them. There was a haunted, fragile look to her face. Where once she'd had rounded cheeks, now there were sharply etched cheekbones. Her hair had once been shoulder-length, perpetually straightened – now she had a mass of dark curls which fell to the top of her hips. I turned away, not wanting to see the haunted look in those green eyes. Once they'd been vibrant, full of excitement about life. That time was long ago.

I noticed a brush on the vanity and recognized it as my own, impressed by how thoughtful Lucas was, even if he had broken into my house. I picked up the brush and dragged it through my tangled curls, trying to release some of the knots. A second cautious glance in the mirror confirmed I'd done the best I could.

Taking a deep breath, I opened the bathroom door and stepped out.

* * *

I crept down the hallway cautiously; uncomfortably aware that Lucas was undoubtedly waiting for an explanation as to why he'd ended up with a lunatic in his home.

The house was spectacular, affluent, but understated with top quality furnishings and fittings. From the bathroom, I wandered in what I hoped was the general direction we'd taken, hesitant to be walking through his home like an intruder. The hallway led to another, wider passage with closed doors on either side and thankfully, I saw what looked like the living room at the end of the hall. A cheery fire was burning in the open hearth and the curtains at each side of the fireplace had been drawn against the night. White leather couches faced each other on either side of the fireplace with a large mahogany coffee table between, stacked with artistically placed magazines. Armchairs in latte-colored leather were placed in other parts of the massive room, set in groups of two or three. The walls held numerous paintings, I recognized some of them as having been created by the great artists of Europe. A grand piano stood on a raised dais in an alcove and to my left was a doorway, which revealed a modern kitchen with stainless steel appliances and dark wooden counter tops.

Lucas appeared from a doorway beside the piano and offered me a forced smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes. “How do you feel?”

I nodded uncomfortably, squirming on the spot. “Much better. Thank you.”

“Are you hungry? Can I get you anything?” He strode into the room, spectacular in snug blue jeans and a white sweater, which stretched across broad shoulders and a well-muscled chest.

I shook my head quickly and tugged anxiously at the hem of my sweater. “Um, no. Thanks.” I glanced down at my watch, recalling too late that after a very thorough dunking in the river it was no longer working. “I should be getting home.”

Lucas ignored my suggestion as if I hadn't spoken. “Come sit down by the fire. You still look a little cold.” He inclined his head towards one of the couches and I took him up on the offer, sitting hesitantly on the edge, from where I could enjoy the heat radiating from the burning logs. Lucas opened an expansively stocked liquor cabinet and poured a measure of brandy into a balloon, swirling the liquid gently before giving it to me. “Drink this; it will help to warm you.”

I took the proffered glass and sipped from it, the warm liquid trickling down my throat and creating a burning sensation in the pit of my stomach. It made me feel a little better and I watched as Lucas sat down opposite me, his eyes never leaving my face. He sat wordlessly for quite a while, staring at me with those startling blue eyes. I noticed the dark smudges under his eyes, realized with a wave of guilt that rescuing me from the river had probably exhausted him. He looked pale – at least, paler than he normally did and I squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze, knowing I was entirely responsible for putting him in this position.

He must have noticed my discomfort. “What is the matter, Charlotte?” He had an unusual way of speaking, very articulate, extremely polite and he didn't use contractions very often. It was both disarming and… kind of charming, as if he came from a different era, when people were far more eloquent and polite.

“Your eyes. I've never seen anything like them—” I began, my embarrassment at studying him so blatantly bringing me to an indecisive halt.

“What about them?” His eyes never left mine and I wondered for the millionth time, how he could possibly be so striking. It simply wasn't natural.

“They're… they're such an unusual shade of blue and they have flashes of—” I stopped for a second time, feeling utterly ridiculous. He would no doubt think I was even more moronic than I already appeared if I started rambling about his eyes. Sheesh. What on earth was wrong with me?

A multitude of emotions flickered across those same unusual eyes before he visibly shut himself down, his expression becoming an impassive mask. “Were you trying to commit suicide at the waterfall today?” he questioned abruptly, his voice cold.

My eyes widened at the sudden question and I lowered my gaze to my hands, unwilling to discuss the subject and unable to meet his piercing stare. Of course, he wanted an explanation, the man had leapt into a river because of me – he deserved an answer, but I had nothing to give him.

“Charlotte, tell me the truth,” he pressed.

I stood up abruptly, determined to get out of this house and away from his prying. What right did he have to question me like this? He didn't even know me. If he hadn't turned up when he did, I'd have accomplished my goal⁠—

Hang on a minute. “Where you following me?” I voiced the question without thought, incredulous at the idea he might have been trailing me. Why else would he have been right there? Out of all the areas in the forest where he could have taken a stroll, how did he happen to be right near the falls, close enough to stop me from achieving my goal? It was the only explanation and now I was angry, trying to figure out why he would be following me. What game was he playing? There was also the question of how he knew where my house was – was he some sort of crazed stalker?

For a full minute Lucas watched me and I stared back defiantly, waiting for a response. I'd diverted him from his question with one of my own, and by the look on his face, he was wrestling with how to react. While I should probably be sprinting for the door, I was frozen to the spot. He just didn't seem like a stalker, although I had no point of reference for such a ridiculous –and almost certainly – dangerous assumption. And the man had put me in a shower without attempting to attack me, so in some wacky way I felt this explained my vacillation. Or maybe I'd frozen the last of my functioning brain cells in the river. Finally, he spoke. “I see we have an impasse. You don't want to answer my question and I don't believe I'm ready to answer yours. How about we start with something easier?”

Eyeing him suspiciously, I tried to decide whether his lack of answer was confirmation that he had, in fact, been following me. “Such as?” I asked quietly, letting my gaze drop to the floor.

“Oh, I don't know.” His attention flickered to the fireplace for a moment, then back to me. “Please, sit down.”

Wrestling with my suspicions, I wavered for a few seconds as I tried to decide whether to stay or run. I had no idea who this man was, didn't have a single reason to trust him and yet, he had saved me today. Or at least, he'd thought he was saving me. A glance at Lucas showed his expression to be much calmer, his body language displaying none of the anger he'd been directing at me until now. I slumped back down onto the couch.

“How about we get to know each other a little better? How old are you, Charlotte?”

I smiled softly at the deliberately simple question. He seemed to be trying to put me at ease and I appreciated it. “I'm twenty.”

“Okay, now it is your turn. Remember, we're sticking with easy questions for now,” he instructed gently and the corner of his mouth curled into a lopsided smile as he settled back more comfortably on the couch.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-four.”

“Oh.”

“You seem surprised,” he pointed out.

“Lonnie from the grocery store told me you were twenty-eight.” I spoke without thinking (again), and instantly regretted it, realizing he would know I'd been discussing him. I could feel heat spreading across my cheeks at the faux pas.

“Did she now? What else did Lonnie from the grocery store tell you?” he asked with an impish grin. He lifted his arm, laying it across the back of the couch as he watched me with blatant amusement.