The Firstborn. Dani Sinclair
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bathroom. She could share a room with two couches, but she could hardly ask him to share a room with one bed.
“Mom always kept candles on the fireplace in the library,” she told him. “We could even build a fire if you think we’ll need more light.”
“Let’s skip the fire,” he said lightly. “Given the fact that it must be at least eighty-five outside tonight, we don’t want to lose what cool we have left in the house from your air-conditioning system.”
Hayley nodded. With help from his flashlight, she took down several thick, squat candles and holders to set on the coffee table between the two couches. She even found a fat, dripless candle for the bathroom. Her grandmother’s handmade afghans were inside one of the built-in cupboards, and while the temperature definitely didn’t call for blankets, it was somehow comforting to snuggle beneath the familiar material in a house that felt all wrong.
Hayley knew she wouldn’t sleep a wink. For one thing, she was entirely too aware of Bram’s large frame sprawled directly across from her. He used the afghan as a pillow. Irrationally, she was disappointed that he found it so easy to be a perfect gentleman.
She studied his features after he closed his eyes and began to relax. In the flickering candlelight, the harsh planes of his face softened. He was actually a strikingly good-looking man. She’d never experienced such a strong physical pull before.
She closed her eyes and tried to relax. She’d put in a lot of overtime recently getting ready for a showing, which was one reason she hadn’t gone to England with Leigh. The strain of that, plus the drive here and the past few hours had taken more of a toll than she’d realized. Once she allowed herself to relax, Bram’s image slowly faded as exhaustion claimed her.
THE URGENT WHISPER of voices raised her slowly from the depths of a deep, dreamless sleep. The room was in total darkness. It took her a minute to figure out why that was wrong. The comforting sputter of the candles had been extinguished.
Hayley lay motionless. Had those whispers been part of some dream? She didn’t hear anything now. It was several minutes before she realized the opposite couch was empty.
Bram was gone.
Tossing aside the afghan, Hayley sat up. Reaching out, she brushed a candle with her hand. Steadying it, she found the wax still warm and fluid. Bram must have just blown it out. Why would he do that?
Hayley heard the faint whispers resume. Someone was in her grandfather’s office, next to the library. She stood silently, straining to hear, but couldn’t make out the words. She couldn’t even tell if the whisperers were male or female. As quietly as possible, she groped her way to the office door. It had been closed when they’d lain down earlier.
The office was only slightly less dark than the rest of the house. Where was a nice bright moon when she needed one? The drapes on these windows were semisheer, and she might have been able to see something. The whispers stopped abruptly.
She was tempted to call out to Bram, but caution held her silent. Instinctively, she knew it would be better if the speakers didn’t realize she was awake. If Bram had blown out the candles, he didn’t want her to see who he was talking with. The sense of wrongness she’d felt earlier became a living weight in her chest.
Hayley stubbed her toe on the edge of her grandfather’s massive desk. She bit her lip to keep from crying out.
Had they heard her?
She didn’t breathe. The absolute silence was more unnerving than the whispers had been. The sense of danger became so acute she wanted to run. Her heart began pounding loudly enough to be audible out in the hall.
Someone knew she was in here.
Her hand sought the edge of the desk to use as a guide. When her fingers didn’t find it, she told herself to stay calm. She knew this house. All she had to do was turn around and walk straight ahead. The opening to the library was right in front of her.
So was a large, dark shape.
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