In the Midnight Hour (35 page)

It mirrored her own when she’d seen Norman about to ax Val’s treasured bed. His link. Him.

Lips nibbled at her neck as he slid his arms around her to untie the belt and cup her breasts. Thumbs grazed her nipples, brought them to throbbing life, and she tilted her head back into the cradle of his shoulder.

“
Now, where were we
, chérie?”

She touched his hands and slid them down to the part of her that burned the hottest. “Well, I think we were just about here.”

“
Mmm
…” he murmured, his fingers pushing her panties down, ruffling the curls until his fingertip touched the slick folds between her legs. “
And I was just about here
.”

“Val?”

“
Mmm
?”

“What would have happened if that security guard hadn’t stopped Norman the first time?”

“
He would have turned my bed into firewood
.” He nipped at her exposed shoulder and a tingle vibrated along her spine.

“I know that,” she breathed. “But what would have happened to you?”

“
With my link to this world destroyed, I would have been forced to cross over
.”

“To heaven? Is that what waits?”

“
The Afterlife. An eternity of peace. That’s what waits once I learn the truth
.” He plunged a fingertip deep inside her and she gasped, lost in the feeling for a long moment before she managed to find her voice.

“But if your bed is destroyed before you learn Emma’s parent-age?”

His hand stilled and his body went rigid, as if she’d just reminded him of something.

“
Purgatory
,” he murmured after a long, silent second.

“Purgatory?”

“
An eternity of restlessness, of longing, of loneliness. The place for questioning, tortured souls. For those foolish enough to make the same fatal mistake twice
.”

Fatal mistake
. The words echoed in her head and she went stone still as the truth crystalized in her mind. Val’s distaste for virgins. His reluctance to touch her. The way he’d stopped the first time despite the fact that she’d begged him to make love to her and he’d wanted to.

She jerked away from him and whirled to face him. “You mean to tell me that if we … if you … because I’m a … Hell? You could go to hell?” He nodded and she shook her head. “How could you keep something like that from me? I never would’ve … Oh, my God, I almost … you almost … we almost …
Hell
, Val.
Hell
.”

“
A small price
.”

“Eternal damnation is a small price? We’re talking forever. You could lose everything.”

“
Everything
?” A bitter laugh passed his lips. “
I thought so, too
, chérie.
But to lose everything, you must have something. I have nothing. Only bitter memories and past regrets. Nothing. But when I hold you
…” A pained expression twisted his features. “
Then I have something. Everything
. You.”

“What are you saying?”

“
I try to imagine what things will be like for me once I learn the truth
. An eternity
of peace, but how will I rest, facing forever without you?
” He shook his head. “
Then I weigh the alternative. A moment in your arms and an eternity of restlessness
.” His gaze captured hers. “
I could face a dozen forevers if I had one sweet memory of you to keep me company. Just one
.” His gaze fired hotter, brighter, and he moved toward her. “
I could face anything, because I love you, Veronique
.” He reached for her. “
I love you
.”

He loved her.

She tossed and turned that night, restless and frustrated, and determined to stay that way despite Val’s efforts to seduce her once he’d made his declaration.

Ronnie had faced the second most difficult decision of her life then, and, just like the first time, she’d turned away, walked away.

Because she’d had to.

Not to preserve her own sense of self, but to save Val’s soul. He loved her, and she loved him, and she couldn’t, wouldn’t doom him to an eternity of hell.

“
Not touching you is hell
,” he’d told her. Even so, he’d backed off when she’d refused, a bleak look in his eyes, love warring with lust, the past with the present.

She tossed to the other side, buried her head in the pillow, and ignored the ache between her own legs. Inconsequential compared to the ache in her chest when she thought of how close Val had come to losing his soul.

Not once, but twice.

First with her damning seduction, then with Norman Nathaniel and his crazy intention to ax Val’s bed.

Ronnie had since made up her mind to keep her clothes on. Meanwhile, she felt certain that Norman was scared witless and wouldn’t be back to bother Val again. Just to be sure, she was planning on having Mr. Sams install an extra deadbolt, and, come morning, she was placing an anonymous call to Council-woman Terribone to tell her her son had been caught spying on poor defenseless college women. That should take care of Norman Nathaniel for a little while.

Long enough for Ronnie to find out the truth and send Val into the Afterlife, which was exactly what she intended to do. She loved him, and while she couldn’t express that love in a physical way, much less pledge to love, honor, and cherish till death do us part, she could give him peace.

She would, she promised herself the next morning as she forfeited her classes and work to make the three-hour drive to Heaven’s Gate. She would find the truth and let Val go before anything else happened. Before Norman returned, and before she lost her selflessness and begged Valentine Tremaine to stay with her regardless of the consequences.

“
The
Emma Warren,” Harvey said excitedly. “I never even considered the possibility.”

“What’s so special about Emma Warren?”

“She was a kind and generous woman. She funded a home for orphaned children that paved the way for modern-day shelters. She started the first town newspaper. She was always giving money to charity, helping those less fortunate. Because of her and her husband’s support, this town went from a dried-up ghost town after the Civil War to a thriving, upper-class community by the turn of the century.”

“So who’s this legendary woman’s father?”

“That I don’t know. I have tons of research on her, but nothing that mentions her father. I don’t think she even knew him, hence her sympathy for orphaned children. I’ve been to the cemetery, checked her headstone, the family mausoleum. I’ve picked through all my records. She even kept a diary.” He shook his head. “But there’s nothing on him.”

“There has to be something. Does she have any descendants? Family members who might know something?”

He shook his head. “The only thing left of the Warrens is Sunnydale, the estate house where they lived. Preserved and cared for by the New Orleans Historical Society. It’s open daily to tourists.”

“A museum?” He nodded, and excitement bubbled inside Ronnie. “Maybe there’s something there.”

“Doubtful. I’ve been over every inch of the place. Other than some really great antiques, wonderful atmosphere, and a great lunch menu—they serve a daily Cajun brunch as part of the admission price—there’s nothing helpful.”

“I’d like to pay a visit anyway. Could you draw me a map?”

“I’ll do one better. I’ll show you.”

Harvey was right. They served a fabulous brunch. Craw-fish salad. Shrimp étouffée. Crème brûlée. Her taste buds were happy and content as she walked through three stories of authentic period life, complete with a tour guide dressed as a Civil War-era Southern belle.

“I told you. There’s nothing here,” he said as the tour ended and they found themselves on the front steps of the main house.

She sat down and breathed a deep sigh, her gaze sweeping the immaculate lawn. Sunlight winked off a stone fountain a few feet away and Ronnie stared at the mirrorlike surface while Harvey went back inside to the gift shop to buy some homemade pecan pralines.

There had to be something. She knew it. She felt it deep inside, a sense of expectancy—

Her gaze stalled as she caught sight of a small white cottage partially hidden behind a deep grove of oak trees.

“Excuse me,” she asked the Southern belle guide. “Who lives in that cottage?”

“No one, ma’am. It’s part of the tour.”

“Why didn’t we get to see it?”

“It’s been closed recently to have the floors redone. You wouldn’t believe the wear and tear on hardwood floors with so many people in and out.”

“Can I see it?”

She shook her head. “Sorry. It’s off-limits.” The woman started to walk away.

Ronnie stopped her. “What’s the significance of the cottage?”

“It belonged to Miss Emma’s momma. Spent her last days there.”

Claire
. Ronnie’s heart was beating ninety to nothing by the time Harvey returned with the pecan pralines.

“Harvey.” She steered him toward the cottage. “That cottage belonged to Emma’s mother.”

“So?” he asked around a mouthful of praline.

“So maybe there’s something inside. Something that might clue us in.”

“I’ve been inside. There’s nothing.”

“Let’s check it out anyway.”

“It’s closed,” he said as she started to haul him forward by the arm.

“We’ll just look in the window.”

Seconds later, Ronnie stood on tiptoes and stared through a window covered with lace sheers.

“See anything?” Harvey asked behind her.

She blinked and focused her eyes. “A table and chairs. A sewing machine. A hope chest. A Bible—”

“A Bible?” Harvey shoved her aside and peered into the window. “A Bible.” He smiled.

“What’s the big deal about a Bible …?” Her words faded as she remembered something she’d read in one of the genealogy books. “People wrote family trees down in Bibles,” she said, excitement pumping through her veins. “And dedications. And important names and dates.”

“Bibles were the earliest form of records,” Harvey said. “And while I’ve seen most everything there is that belonged to the Warrens, I haven’t seen that book.”

“Claire might have written down the father’s name.”

“
If
she knew the father’s name,” Harvey pointed out. “Maybe she didn’t know. Maybe that’s why Emma didn’t know.”

“Maybe. But it’s still worth checking out, don’t you think?”

“I’ll go find the security guard and have him let us in.”

“Can you do that?”

“I’ve been officially commissioned by the estate to write the Warren history. I have legal access to all documents.”

“But I’ve been commissioned by the Warren estate,” Harvey sputtered for the countless time to a very mean-looking security guard fifteen minutes later. The guard stood in front of the cottage door and barred any entrance.

“The cottage is closed for the next month,” the man said.

“But I need to get inside now.”

The guard shook his head. “Next month. Opens up the fifteenth.”

“Sir,” Ronnie said, stepping in when Harvey turned a beet-red color. “You don’t understand. This man has legal access to what’s inside, and we have to get inside today, just to look around a minute. We won’t disturb anything.”

“Next month.”

“But we’re here now.”

The guard shook his head. “I’ve got my orders.”

“Come on,” Harvey said, grabbing Ronnie’s hand.

“But we have to get inside—”

“We will.”

“How?”

“I’ll contact the estate lawyer, who will call someone at the historical society, who will send someone out here to seize the Bible and turn it over to me.”

“And how long does all that take?”

“A few weeks.”

“
Weeks?
”

“Three, tops. Either way, we’ll get to it before the fifteenth of next month.”

But Ronnie didn’t intend to wait three weeks. She couldn’t. What if Norman hadn’t been scared away? Okay, chances were, he had been. But there was always the slight chance that he could come after the bed again, that maybe Ronnie wouldn’t be there this time, that he would succeed and send Val straight to…

Then there was also the matter of her own lust, the way she melted when Val came near. What if he set his mind on seduction, consequences be damned, and she didn’t stop him…

No!
She was getting a look at that Bible even if she had to break into the cottage to do it.

“
Let me see if I understand this. There is a Bible that may or may not contain the name of Emma’s father sitting in a cottage that is off-limits to the public, and so you want to break inside and take a look?
” Val asked later that evening. He was little more than a shadow, yet she could still see him, feel him.

“That sums it up.”

He shook his head. “
You’re insane
.”