“The storm’s getting worse,” he commented. “Maybe we’d better all call it a night.”
Brie threw him a grateful smile. “I think you’re right, Cullen. I was thinking about asking my boss if we could close early.”
“You’re throwing us out on a night like this?” Glasglow glowered at her.
Brie shrugged. “It’s only an hour till our regular closing time at ten. You’d have to leave then anyway.”
“And if I refuse?”
Cullen walked over and put a hand on Glasglow’s shoulder. “If you refuse, I have a nice cozy jail cell you might find to your liking.”
Glasglow shoved his cup aside and stood, facing Cullen. At six feet, Cullen was tall enough, but Glasglow towered over him by a good four inches. And like Shamus, Cullen was outweighed by the man, but he knew how to deal with thugs. He’d dealt with plenty of them on the streets of Boston.
He moved slightly, so that Glasglow could glimpse the automatic he wore in a shoulder holster beneath his coat.
Glasglow eyed the gun for a moment, then his gaze met Cullen’s. “You’ve got me shaking, boy.”
Cullen’s stare never wavered. “Maybe you should be.”
“Considering the track record of our fine police department?” Glasglow sneered. “I’m not too worried.” He walked over to the front door and drew it open. An icy gust swept through the diner, and Cullen saw Brie shiver.
Lifting the hood of his slicker over his head, Glasglow stood in the doorway for a moment, staring out into the rainy darkness.
Then he glanced over his shoulder, his gaze resting on Brie. “The police never could find who killed those women twenty years ago. I doubt much has changed since then. If you ever find yourself in trouble, girl, I wouldn’t be looking to the likes of him for help.”
He nodded toward Cullen, then he turned and disappeared through the doorway into the night.
“TELL ME about that castle that overlooks the sea,” Becca said as she and Elizabeth watched the elegant dancers swirl about the floor in the ballroom.
“You mean the Bluffs?”
“Yes, that’s the one.” Becca’s gaze was still on the dancers, but she looked pensive, subdued. Elizabeth wondered if something had happened during the course of the evening to disturb her.
Except for their brief conversation in the foyer when Elizabeth had first arrived, she’d seen little of her friend all night. Becca had drifted away after Lucian LeCroix had come in, leaving Elizabeth alone with the handsome professor. They’d talked for a few minutes longer, making arrangements to meet at the library on campus the following morning for his tour, and then Lucian—as he insisted she call him—had excused himself to join the party as well. Elizabeth had been standing alone in an unobtrusive corner for the past hour or so. She was glad that Becca had sought her out again.
The music ended and as the couples drifted toward the fringes of the room, Elizabeth caught a glimpse of LeCroix. He was talking to Drew Pierce, but she could have sworn his gaze was on her.
It was probably her imagination, she decided. A bit of wishful thinking that a man as handsome and debonair as Lucian LeCroix would look at her twice. Since they’d spoken earlier, he hadn’t approached her again. If he was gazing in her direction now, it was probably because of Becca.
Becca was blond and beautiful while Elizabeth was just…Elizabeth.
Lizzie, as Cullen Ryan used to call her. Elizabeth thought that one word, that hated nickname, spoke volumes about the way he saw her.
“Elizabeth?” Becca touched her arm.
With an effort, Elizabeth drew her attention back to the conversation. “Sorry. What were we talking about? Oh, yes. The Bluffs. It was brought over from England, stone by stone, by one of the Pierce ancestors, but a few years ago a man named David Bryson acquired it. There’s been bad blood between him and the Pierces ever since. And, of course, there was Tasha.”
“Tasha?”
“Natasha Pierce.” At the thought of her dead friend, a cloak of sadness settled over Elizabeth, but she tried to shake it off. She didn’t really want to talk about Tasha or David Bryson, but Becca was new in town, and it was only natural she’d be curious. “Her family never approved of David. Apart from the animosity over the Bluffs, they thought he was too old for her. She was only eighteen when they became engaged, and David was in his thirties. She died one night in a terrible boating accident, and her body was never found. Since then, no one’s seen David, although they say he walks the night. Supposedly, he was horribly scarred in the explosion, and that’s why he became a recluse. That, and his guilt. The more charitable in town think he’s still grieving for Tasha. Others say…well, never mind what others say. It’s all a bit creepy, if you ask me,” Elizabeth finished with a shudder.
“I think it sounds terribly romantic,” Becca said softly. “I’d like to meet this David Bryson.”
“No,” Elizabeth said in alarm. “You don’t want to do that. Don’t even think it. I lost one dear friend who got mixed up with that man, and I wouldn’t want to lose another.”
Becca laughed. “Who said anything about getting mixed up with him? I only said I’d like to meet him.”
“If you want to meet someone,” Elizabeth said firmly, “there are a lot of nice guys here tonight. Take Drew Pierce, for instance. He’s handsome and he’s very rich. Most women find him totally irresistible.”
“Yes, I’ve met Drew,” Becca said in a dismissive tone. Obviously, for some reason, the town’s most eligible bachelor held no particular appeal for her. But David Bryson? No, Elizabeth thought. No, no, no!
“Besides,” Becca was saying, “If there are so many nice guys here tonight, why are you standing here talking to me? I haven’t seen you dance once all evening.”
“Oh, that’s because…”
Becca lifted an elegant brow. “Yes?”
Elizabeth waved absently toward the orchestra. “I don’t really care for this kind of music.”
Becca gave her a speculative glance. “I realize we don’t know each other all that well, but would you mind if I offered you a piece of advice?”
Elizabeth shrugged. “Of course not.”
“You’re a beautiful girl, Elizabeth. Very warm and caring. I’ve seen that side of you in the short while I’ve known you. But most of the time you seem so aloof. Especially around men. If you could just be a little more…approachable, you’d have them climbing all over each other to ask you to dance.”
Elizabeth glanced at her in surprise. “Who says I want to dance?”
“Every girl wants to dance,” Becca said with a misty smile. She hesitated. “You know what I think? I think you use your aloofness and even your intelligence as a sanctuary. A safe place to hide away the real you so that you won’t get hurt.”
Elizabeth didn’t know what to say to that. She couldn’t deny it because there was too much truth in it.
“I’ve offended you, haven’t I?” Becca asked worriedly.
“No, it’s not that. It’s just…”
“We don’t know each other well enough to exchange such intimacies.”
“It’s not that, either,” Elizabeth said. “I do feel as if I know you, and I hope we can be friends. But I’ve never been comfortable sharing confidences even with my closest friends.”
“I