TAYLOR JERKED BOLT UPRIGHT in bed, her eyes wide open. Her heart pounded in her chest. She couldn’t catch her breath. The acrid taste of adrenaline filled her mouth. She quickly glanced around, but nothing looked out of place. She was sure someone had been in the room with her. She had sensed it, felt a menacing presence that had frightened her out of her sleep. It must have been a bad dream, yet it all seemed so real.
She desperately needed some sort of rational explanation. She finally attributed the experience to exhaustion, trying to convince herself she had been overly susceptible to suggestion fueled by the ominous atmosphere of the centuries-old house and the lifetime of Sedgwick family history that surrounded her. She slid out of bed, went to the bathroom and got a drink of water.
She stopped by the large corner window on her way back to bed, pulling the drape aside to look out over the grounds. She spotted someone, a shadowy form, aimlessly wandering around the garden. She squinted in an attempt to identify the mysterious person, but to no avail.
A little tremor of anxiety moved through her body as she turned away from the window. She drew in a calming breath, held it a moment, then slowly exhaled. Her lack of sleep had caused her mind to play tricks on her. It was the only logical explanation. But still, the feeling of someone being in the room with her had seemed so real.
She decided to lock the bedroom door, but to her dismay the door turned out to have an old-type lock that required a key in order to be locked. She looked around, then grabbed a straight-backed wooden chair and propped it at an angle under the doorknob. The action made her feel a little foolish, but at that moment her instincts were screaming at her to remain alert and be very careful.
She tried to convince herself that things would make more sense in the morning after a good night’s sleep. She turned off the lamp, then changed her mind. She knew it was ridiculous, but she felt she would sleep better with the light on. She switched the lamp on, then settled into bed.
Donovan stared up through the night air at the second-floor window, watching as the light went off then came on again a moment later. The blinding headache throbbed at his temples. Dark waves of confusion clouded his mind, leaving him disoriented. When and why had he gotten out of bed, dressed and left the house? What was he doing wandering around the garden in the middle of the night? Waves of apprehension washed through his body. He squeezed his eyes shut as he rubbed his temples in an attempt to force the pain away and make some sense of what had happened.
He had been experiencing the same symptoms his father had complained of for about three months prior to his death. There were the sudden headaches followed by disorientation, confusion and memory lapses.
Then two months ago James Sedgwick had committed suicide.
Had his father suspected he was going mad and killed himself before it became complete? While he still had some conscious control over his actions? Was the same thing now happening to Donovan? Was he himself going mad? Had the curse imposed on the family by his great-grandfather’s brutal crimes finally come to fruition with the opening of the crypt?
Had he now become the recipient of the Sedgwick curse?
A cold jolt of fear assaulted his senses. It was a frightening puzzle and somehow he had to figure it out before he lost his ability to reason. And Taylor MacKenzie…something about her was so familiar. Somehow there had to be a connection, but what could it possibly be?
Donovan returned to his private living quarters in the new wing. He poured a glass of water from the carafe he kept on his nightstand, took one of the tablets the doctor had prescribed for his sudden attack of blinding headaches, then fell on top of his bed. He closed his eyes and tried to force sleep in order to ease his confusion and drive away the pain. After tossing and turning for what seemed like an eternity, he finally fell into a troubled sleep.
Dark visions and strange dreams plagued him. The malevolent countenance of his great-grandfather’s face appeared before him, then disappeared again. He caught fleeting glimpses of his father. He had a sense of a woman’s face, an image from long ago, but it never quite came into focus. The images swirled around in evil black clouds that seemed to hide something even more sinister than they revealed.
Chapter Two
“Yes? Come in,” Taylor responded to the knock at her bedroom door. She had just finished dressing and was making the bed before going downstairs for breakfast.
The door opened and a middle-aged woman entered. As soon as she saw what was happening, she rushed toward Taylor. “Oh, miss. Please don’t do that. I’ll see to your room for you. Is there anything special that you require?”
“No, nothing at all. I hope I won’t be too much of an added burden to you.” Maid service—this was certainly more than she had anticipated.
“Breakfast is being served in the informal dining room. It’s on the ground floor, miss, to the right at the bottom of the stairs.”
“Thank you.” Taylor left the bedroom and followed the directions. Donovan and Alex were already seated at the table. Both men rose to their feet when she entered the room.
It was Donovan who spoke first. “I trust you found everything you needed. Did you sleep well?”
“Yes, I’m all settled in. It’s a lovely room.” Her strange dream about someone being in her room, if it had been a dream, flashed through her mind. No, she had not slept well at all. “I’m sure I’ll be very comfortable.”
She noted the haunted look in Donovan’s eyes and the drawn lines on his face. It did not stop the pull of his sexual magnetism, of the very disruptive and baffling effect he had on her senses.
She quickly turned her attention to Alex. Unlike Donovan, no stress showed on his face. “Good morning.”
There was no mistaking the glint in Alex’s eyes as he allowed his gaze to wander across her features. “Well, international travel must agree with you. You look even better than last night.”
Breakfast passed in an amiable manner. The conversation was casual, albeit superficial. Alex did most of the talking. The only truly uncomfortable moment came when he asked Taylor the titles of her other books. She sidestepped the issue by saying her writing credits were primarily magazine articles.
As soon as everyone had finished with their coffee, Donovan rose from his chair. He had tried to keep from staring at Taylor during breakfast, but he had been unable to keep his eyes off her. He hoped she hadn’t noticed. He forced a casualness to his words that he did not feel. “If you like, I’ll show you around the house and the grounds, then you can get started on your research.”
“I don’t want to intrude on your time, but I’d certainly appreciate the tour.”
“I have some pressing business to take care of first.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ll meet you here in about an hour, if that’s convenient for you.”
“That will be perfect.” She extended a gracious smile and forced an outer calm. Her inner jitters were another story, the result of the way he had been staring at her all through breakfast combined with the intense and unexpected attraction she felt toward him. She had never experienced that type of intensity, not even with her ex-fiancé. The potent combination proved impossible to dismiss.
Alex’s voice intruded into her thoughts as he spoke to Donovan. “You don’t need me for any of this. I promised Constance Smythe we would get together this morning and go over what she’s done so far for the festival.”
Donovan shot a warning look toward Alex. “I’d appreciate it if you did that at her house and not here.”
“No problem. I’ll go over there and get a status report. Then I have some personal business to take care of.”
Alex grasped Taylor’s hand