A flash of pain split his skull. He gripped the counter to keep from sliding to the ground, though the vortex swirled about him, pulling him with magnetic force.Dear God.No wonder she hated him. He hit the floor with a thud.
A pained groan escaped him, utterly humiliating him. The sound of a wounded animal echoed in his ears. Him. He was the wounded animal, lying flat on his back on the cold tile, eyes closed, breathing hard. A second later, Peyton was lifting his head to her lap, brushing the hair from his forehead with her fingers. “Oh my God. Alistar? I’m so sorry. I should never have said anything.” Silk ribbons stroked against his skin. “I’m not even sure it’s an actual memory.”
He struggled to sitting. “Perhaps I could just rest a moment. I don’t wish to put you out.” Thunder rumbled and rain pelted the windows. “I hate to trouble you for a ride home.”
“I’m sorry. Tarron has our rental car. He went to Romford to play golf. Then he’s on to London. You’ll have to stay here unless there is someone to pick you up.”
Alistar put a hand to his head, indignation rippling through him on her behalf. “He left you here without means of transportation?”
“You sound like a jealous husband. He’s my friend, not my lover. Come on, let’s move you to the couch. Then I’ll make you something to eat. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine. He shouldn’t have left you here without a car.” He spoke tersely. He did sound like an overbearing male chauvinistic, pompous ass of a previous time. It left him feeling glum.
“I appreciate it, but the railway station is within walking distance.” She helped him to the sofa. “You still up for a glass of wine?”
“Thank you, yes.” A disparaging twist of his lips curved, strictly aimed at himself. “I’m cursed.”
She patted his hand, grinning. “Don’t worry about it. At least you didn’t collapse in front of a bunch of museum patrons in broad daylight.”
“There’s that, I suppose.” He returned her smile.
“Let me fix dinner. Then, if you think you can handle it, I have another Jess Aldis secret to share.”
“Intriguing.” He could hardly wait.
Five
D
inner consisted of a bland marinara sauce and overcooked pasta. But it was the best meal Alistar had ever had the privilege to eat. His companion was charming, entertaining, and brilliant to look at. Forthrightly so. He clinked his glass to hers and sipped. “Delicious. I’ve never enjoyed a meal more.”
Her blush pleased him immensely. “You probably have your own cook.”
He did. An excellent French chef he would no longer need in another week. “At the risk of overstepping, why do you think you are the child in theWithin the Shadows?”
The past intruded as a distant, unfocused glaze. “Nightmares. The couple in the picture. They were frantic. Snatches of conversation come to me, regarding money, and”—she rubbed her temples—“deeds, and scrutiny.” She blinked, her vision cleared and focused on him. “I’m sorry. I’m not making any sense. I guess one of the main reasons is because I’m adopted. So, I put myself in all these different scenarios, you know?”
He leaned in. “What do you mean?” He was genuinely curious.
“The usual, I suppose. You see a family with a bunch of kids and wonder if you could be related. If you had other siblings you’re unaware of. Did my mother die in childbirth? How horrific does a situation have to be for a mom to give up her baby? I couldn’t do it if it were me. I feel like they would have to kill me to take away my child. Then I saw that painting and thought maybe they were dead and that’s why I was given up.”
This was not the barracuda he’d grown to expect from years past. Alistar reached across the table and covered her hand with his. It was cold. She didn’t seem to notice. “What of your adoptive parents? Were they good to you?”
She smiled, a tender turn of her lips that warmed him through. “Yes. I’m convinced I was the luckiest of adoptees. We’re very close. I’ve never mentioned those scenes in my head. I never want them to feel I’m not grateful for everything they’ve given me. My father is a renowned attorney in the city—sorry, New York City. So I see them frequently. When I’m home, I see them at least once a week.”
The small dining nook took on a deeper dimension of intimacy that Alistar almost wished he weren’t experiencing. A reminder of the bleak future ahead. At the same time, it was a memory he meant to cherish.
Bells went off.
The sound startled them both. “It’s my cell. I’d better see if Tarron had trouble.” She pulled her hand away and stepped through an arch into the kitchen. “Hi, Mom. Everything is fine.”
Alistar listened with half an ear, thinking ofWithin the Shadows.He’d been in his early twenties when the vision had come. He’d had visions before and knew if he didn’t get them on canvas, the headaches would grow intolerable.Within the Shadowshad knocked him to his knees. He hadn’t wanted to paint it. And he hadn’t. Not for ten days, and he’d paid a tremendous price. Hospitalized with the pain in his head. Once he’d laid the scene to canvas, the headache disappeared in an instant. He hadn’t chanced a similar occurrence again. Now when the visions came, he wasted no time.
“Dad. It’s okay. He’s just gone for a night or two. The train station is within walking distance. I’m not stranded.”
So her father felt as Alistar did about her friend leaving her without a car. The Skerry house was pretty isolated, in his opinion.
“I’ll tell him. I’m fine. Truly, Dad. Don’t worry. I’ll be home soon. Love you. Tell Mom I love her too. Okay, bye.” She came back in the dining room and sat, set her phone down, and picked up her wine. “Honestly,” she said on a huff, “you’d think I was twelve, not almost thirty.”
