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Ross could have had the bastard on the ground in two seconds flat, but he knew what would happen if he so much as waved a fist in O’ Grady’s direction.
“I was cleared,” he said. “And when I find the real killer, I’ll make you choke on your newspaper.”
The reporter laughed, but he wasn’t quite as immune to Ross’s anger as he wanted to believe. “Cleared?” he repeated. “You were released for lack of evidence. Not quite the same thing, is it? But who knows? Maybe I can find something nice to say about you if you cooperate.” He slipped a thoroughly chewed pencil from behind his ear and held it poised over the notepad. “Who is she? She’s from England, right? What’s your relationship with her and the kid? Does she realize—”
He grunted in surprise as Ross tore the notepad and pencil from his hands and threw them to the ground. “If you get anywhere near her, I may have to do something stupid,” Ross said.
O’Grady stared at the notebook, its pages splayed and fluttering in the light breeze. “You already have, Kavanagh.”
Ross leaned toward the reporter, his breath stirring O’Grady’s thin reddish hair. “You’re right,” he said softly. “I’d have to have been pretty crazy to murder that girl. And if I’m crazy, why should I stop with her? Why not try something different this time?”
As if compelled by forces beyond his control, O’Grady met Ross’s gaze. He opened his mouth. No sound came out. He took a step backward. He kept up his retreat until he was well out of Ross’s reach.
“I know where you live, Kavanagh!” he said, all bluster again. “I’ll get my story.”
“Leave us alone.”
Gillian had returned. Her voice was clear, sharp and startling, ringing with such natural authority that everyone within hearing distance stopped and stared. She ignored her audience, her attention completely focused on O’Grady.
“No more questions,” she said. “I must take my son home.”
O’Grady made the mistake of thinking he’d found a new opening. “Sure, I understand. Just tell me where you can be reached, and I’ll…”
He trailed off, his bravado crushed by Gillian’s withering stare. When she moved, he jumped like a rabbit. He stayed put as she stalked away, a muscle under his eye twitching frantically.
“What the hell…?” he breathed.
Ross couldn’t have put it better himself. What had he just seen? One minute Gillian was calm and confident, the next nervous and uncertain, then aggressive and strong. How many different women lived inside that sleek, graceful body?
He fell into step beside her. “I don’t think you should go directly back to the hotel.”
She glanced at him without breaking stride, her hand still clamped around Toby’s, conflicting emotions passing behind her eyes.
“Why?” she asked. “Will that man follow us?”
“I know the guy. He’s a persistent bas—He won’t give up easily. And he knows your name.”
“I’m sorry,” Toby said, abashed. “I didn’t think there would be any harm…”
“It’s okay,” Ross said. “O’Grady could get a clam to confess. But I think it would be a good idea to throw him off the scent.”
“How do you propose to do that?” Gillian asked.
Her tone held the same conflicting emotions as her eyes, anxious and angry at the same time, but Ross had seen how much she detested the kind of attention she’d attracted as a result of her good deed. She would probably do just about anything to avoid answering the reporter’s questions, no matter how benign they might seem.
Ross certainly didn’t want to tell her that O’Grady held a grudge against him and was likely to be even more obnoxious than usual in trying to uncover the nature of their relationship.
“I’ve got a friend who lives over on Long Island,” he said. “Grif and his wife have been out of the country for months, so the place is vacant. They won’t mind if we stay there until O’Grady finds a more interesting story. Shouldn’t take more than a few days.”
“A few days? That is impossible.”
“I think you’ll find Oak Hollow comfortable, even if Grif isn’t as big on the luxuries you’re used to.”
Gillian opened her mouth, hesitated, and closed it again, clearly torn. Then she saw or smelled something that worried her, because she moved a little closer to Toby and drew herself into a defensive posture.
“How will you make certain that the reporter doesn’t follow us to Long Island?” she asked.
“I’m going to give you instructions on how to take the subway back to Penn Station, where you’ll catch the train to Long Island. While you’re doing that, I’m going to lure O’Grady in another direction. I’ll join you as soon as I can. Once we’re at Oak Hollow, you can call Hugh and arrange to have some of your things sent over.”
Gillian nodded with obvious reluctance. He could sense that she wanted to say something else, but was finding it difficult to spit out the words.
“Thank you,” she said at last. “Thank you, Ross.”
“It’s nothing,” he said curtly. “Listen carefully. This is what you do…”
He gave her the promised instructions and accompanied her to the Coney Island station, keeping an eye out for O’Grady all the while. When the reporter appeared as expected—obviously having convinced himself that he’d followed them without being detected—Ross managed to distract him while Gillian and Toby boarded their train. By the time the reporter realized he’d been had, his intended victims were long gone and he settled for his secondary target.
After a couple of hours of following Ross around Manhattan, O’Grady finally surrendered to the inevitable and gave up. Even so, Ross waited another hour until he was sure the reporter had called it quits before he caught the train to Long Island.
The Bridgehampton railroad station was well-lit and relatively clean, reflecting the money and taste of the local residents. Nevertheless, Ross had advised Gillian and Toby to wait for him at one of the local hotels, where he found them eating supper in the attached restaurant. He tipped the hotel’s concierge to call a taxi, which carried them the three miles to Oak Hollow.
The wrought-iron gates at the entrance to the estate were locked, but Ross knew where Griffin kept a spare key under a rock nearby. He opened the gates and waved the taxi through, following on foot. The cobbled, tree-lined road led up to a carriage circle in front of the columned entrance of a Georgianstyle manor house, where the cabbie let Gillian and Toby off.
It was obvious right away that someone had been keeping up the place in Griffin’s and Allie’s absence. The lawn was cut, the hedges neatly trimmed and the flower beds to either side of the porch filled with new plantings. Gillian stood gazing at the portico. Whatever she thought of the place didn’t show on her face, but Toby had his own opinions.
“It’s not nearly as big as Snowfell,” he pronounced, “but it looks much nicer.”
“What’s not nice about Snowfell?” Ross asked, unlocking the front door.
“Oh, I don’t know. It was built in the sixteenth century, but most of it burnt down, and then they rebuilt it, and then it burnt down again, so my great-grandfather had it rebuilt. Some of the old parts are still standing. It ended up a patchwork, not very pretty.” He sniffed. “There must be lots of servants here.”
“Only two, as far as I know.”
“Two!” Toby whistled, earning a reproving glance from Gillian. Ross ushered them ahead of him into the cool central hall. Immediately Gillian stopped, wrapping her arms around her chest.
She might have sensed it, of course. Even though she hadn’t recognized Ross as a werewolf when they’d first met, she might be able to smell a full-blooded one.
“There’s something I didn’t tell you,” Ross said, coming up beside her. “Griffin Durant is a werewolf, and he’s married to a vampire.”
Gillian stared at him. “I beg your pardon?”
“I never met a vampire in Europe, so I don’t know how you feel about them over there. But Allie’s all right. She—”
“A real vampire?” Toby interrupted, the final syllable rising into a squeak. “Are we going to meet her?”
“Like I said, they’re out of town.” He met Gillian’s gaze. “All you need to know is that you’d be welcome here.”
“I see.”
Ross was pretty sure she didn’t see at all. She was probably horrified at the idea of a vampire-werewolf marriage, but was too polite to show it. Of course, Ross had been skeptical himself until he’d seen with his own eyes just how well such an improbable union could turn out.
But Gillian wasn’t in any state to listen to him explain what she probably didn’t want to hear anyway. He started up the stairs. “I’ll show you some spare bedrooms you can use,” he said. “Once you’ve rested, we can telephone your brother.”
Gillian uncrossed her arms and seemed to relax a little. “Thank you.”
Ross was beginning to get sick of those two words. Without replying, he showed Gillian and Toby the guest bedrooms. When he and Gillian were alone in the room Gillian had chosen, he decided to say what he’d been thinking ever since they’d left Coney Island.
“You did good, Mrs. Delvaux,” he said, lingering in the doorway. “Helping that kid…it might not have seemed like much to you, but I’m sure his mother appreciated it.”
She stood beside the four-poster, as self-conscious as he’d ever seen her. “Anyone could have done it,” she said curtly.
He shook his head. “Most people would have made it worse.” He ran his fingers along the doorjamb. “I’d almost forgotten how capable you were at the hospital, how well you looked after the patients. You were the best nurse there. Better than the ones who had a lot more training than you did.”
“There was nothing exceptional about my work. Others did far more.”
“We’ll have to agree to disagree on that subject.” He laughed briefly. “Among others.”
All too aware that he was standing on the edge of a precipice, Ross retreated. He was halfway down the stairs when the front door swept open and Allegra Durant stepped into the hall.
“Ross!” she exclaimed, dropping her suitcase on the paneled wooden floor. “What are you doing here?”
As had happened more than once, Ross was momentarily at a loss for words. Allie had that effect on a lot of men, regardless of ancestry. She wore only a slightly more conservative dress than she had in her bachelor girl days, one that didn’t quite reveal her knees, and her aqua eyes sparkled.
But Ross was seeing another woman in her place, a woman with golden hair and grave hazel eyes.
“Okay,” Allie said, walking farther into the foyer. “Something’s up, I can tell. Don’t tell me someone’s been murdered on Long Island. It’s such a boring—”
She broke off, her gaze flying up the staircase. Ross turned. Gillian was poised on the landing, her features registering astonishment before she brought them under control.
“Well, well,” Allie said, grinning. “Now I’ve seen everything. How many girls have you brought out here, Kavanagh? Or is she the first?”
CHAPTER SIX
GILLIAN FROZE at the other woman’s question. She had already taken in the short dress, the bobbed hair and the bright red lipstick that identified Allie as one of the flappers who seemed so common in London. The two women stared at each other, and Gillian felt a stirring of instinctive hostility.
Ross was quick to fill the silence. “I’ve never brought anyone here before,” he said, a little stiffly. “I didn’t know you were coming back.”
“We didn’t, either.” Allie’s gaze returned to Gillian. “Any friend of yours is welcome here.” Abruptly she started for the staircase, nearly running up the steps until she was standing just below Gillian. “Sorry about the quip. I didn’t mean to be rude.” She thrust out her hand. “Allie Durant.”
Gillian’s training overcame her aversion. She took the proffered hand. “Gillian Delvaux,” she said. The sound of rapid footsteps warned her that Toby had heard the voices and come to join them. “This is my son, Tobias.”
Toby careened to a halt at Gillian’s side, remembered his manners and gave a little bow. “How do you do, Mrs. Durant?” he said. “Are you the vampire?”
Allie burst into laughter. “I see that Ross has told you all about me,” she said when she had caught her breath again. “That makes things easier.” She smiled at Toby. “Yes, I’m the vampire. You aren’t scared, are you?”
A look of faint scorn crossed Toby’s face. “Certainly not.” He glanced at Gillian. “Werewolves are just as strong as vampires, aren’t they?”
“I don’t know,” Gillian said, meeting Allie’s gaze. “I have no vampires among my acquaintance.”
Allie’s smile never wavered, but her eyes took on a sharper expression. “You’re loup-garou?” she asked. “From England, right?”
“Yes,” Gillian said. “I apologize for visiting at such an inconvenient time. We shall leave immediately.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Allie turned her head slightly as Ross came up behind her. “I have a feeling there’s a very interesting story behind all this, but I’m famished. Grif will be here any moment. Would you like something to eat?”
Gillian was at a loss, a feeling she had experienced all too frequently since she’d met Ross again. The day’s events—the pressing human crowds, the emergency with the boy, the reporter’s intrusions—had shaken her more than she liked to admit. And now she was face-to-face with a vampire for the first time in her life—a remarkably hospitable vampire, for all her forwardness.
“Thank you,” she said, “but Toby and I have recently dined.”
“Then you won’t mind if I make myself a sandwich.” Allie addressed Toby. “Did Ross tell you that vampires can eat just like normal people?”
“I didn’t get the chance,” Ross said. He gave Gillian an encouraging glance. “Mrs. Delvaux only arrived from England a short time ago, and it’s been kind of a rough day.”
“Mr. Kavanagh exaggerates,” Gillian said, wishing she could sink into the landing and disappear.
Allie seemed to notice her discomfiture. “That’s not something he usually does. I’ve been a lousy hostess. Ross, you’ve shown Mrs. Delvaux the bedrooms?”
“Yes. And she needs to rest.”
“I am quite well,” Gillian said with as much dignity as she could muster.
“In that case, why don’t you come downstairs and make yourself comfortable? I—” She stopped as a man walked through the front door. “Here’s Grif now.”
The gentleman who entered the hall was roughly Ross’s age and height, with dark hair, golden eyes and handsome features…far more classically handsome than Ross’s rugged contours. Gillian wasn’t certain that she would have recognized him as a werewolf if she hadn’t known beforehand; she had sensed something when she’d first entered the house, but aside from Ross, she’d met few strangers who had turned out to be werewolves.
Griffin Durant’s face registered surprise as he saw Ross and Gillian; he set down the suitcases he had brought inside and continued on to the staircase.
“Ross!” he said with obvious pleasure. “I didn’t expect a welcoming committee.”
“Yeah,” Ross said. “Like I told Allie, I didn’t know you were coming back today.”
“Completely understandable.” Durant’s eyes reflected the same curiosity Allie had shown, but he remained cordially reserved as he looked up at Gillian. “May I be introduced?”
“Mrs. Delvaux,” Ross said, “this is my friend Griffin Durant. Grif, this is Mrs. Gillian Delvaux.”
Griffin reached the landing. “How do you do, Mrs. Delvaux?”
This time Gillian offered her hand first. “Very well, thank you, Mr. Durant. May I present my son, Tobias?”
“Tobias. Pleased to meet you.”
Toby stared at Mr. Durant. “Do you belong to the New York pack?”
Durant glanced at Ross, who buried his hands in his trouser pockets. “As I was telling Allie,” Ross said, “Toby and Mrs. Delvaux have only been in the States a short time and aren’t familiar with the setup here. Loups-garous do things differently in England.”
“A fascinating subject, I’m sure,” Allie said, “but I’m still starving. Let’s go downstairs.”
Griffin stood aside to let the women precede him. Gillian hung back.
