Loving Your Lies (24 page)

“Who would make?” Julian’s innocent question
slammed into my back like a high-speed train.

I shot around and met his curious gaze. “No
one would,” I snapped. With the rest of the food in my hands, I
wiggled past Marie and started to dish it out.

And what kind of silly idea was this anyway?
Marie had obviously gone crazy. Me and Julian? Hah. I didn’t need
someone to fall in love with, just to be left alone in the end.

Damn. I grimaced. Did I just think about
love?

The dragon was hooked to Julian’s arm and
gave me a hard stare as he led her to the table. Yeah, and then
there was still her. My mother didn’t approve of my or his looks.
She’d made that clear last weekend when I had overheard her in the
parlor.

Was she plagued by jealousy or simply the
coldest person in the world that she wouldn’t grant me anyone at
all who liked me?

That evening, I ate my meal in silence with
my gaze primarily fixed on my plate. I killed off Julian’s attempts
to involve me in the conversation with a shrug or by stuffing more
food into my mouth.

Marie’s disappointed frown didn’t escape me.
Neither did my mother’s stares. I only wished she would keep the
painful expression from her face when gazing at me. After all, it
wasn’t
me
who’d hurt
her
, goddammit.

Ready for a reprieve, I was the first to
leave the table. I stumped upstairs to take a relaxing shower.
Marie’s words about me and Julian still gnawed on me, and the
picture of him nearly kissing me pushed to the front of my
mind.

With it rose the question of what we would
be now if he had gone through with the kiss. Even that single
slight brush of his mouth against mine had left my lips burning for
his touch.

Water sprinkled my face. I rubbed my hands
over it then slammed my fist on the faucet to cut off the
spray.

Don’t let him get under your skin. He’ll
only hurt you.

My crunched face reflected in the stainless
steel. I moaned, tipping backward, the tiles cooling my skin.

Never before did I crave anyone’s kiss—and
then so badly. Damn him for turning me into a weak sissy. From the
hanger next to the cubicle I snatched a towel and wrapped it around
my dripping body. Wet spots on the floor dotted my way out of the
bathroom.

Maybe it was time to leave.

But, for the life of me, I couldn’t get
myself to pack. Too long I’d stayed in the land of plenty. The
taste of it pulled me under like a vortex. I craved more.

Movement on the balcony set my belly on a
flutter. I only had to step out and I would get what I wanted. But
no. I forced myself to stay calm and slipped into a T-shirt and
pants. Tonight, I wouldn’t meet him outside. I couldn’t risk
running heedlessly into perdition.

Set with a copy of
The Lord of the
Rings
, the first in the line of books on the shelf, I slumped
into bed. The slatted frame squealed with the same frustration I
felt. My head sank deep into the feathers. I made an effort to puff
up the pillow around my ears, so the outside sounds wouldn’t tempt
me.

The opening of the novel kept me distracted
well enough, but soon I passed out with my thumb between the pages,
lost in the high and mystic mountains surrounding the Shire.

*

Not much happened on Friday and the minutes
stretched like hours. Julian spent more time inside with my mother
than outside to help us, and Marie drove Valentine to town for some
shopping. Apparently, a small celebration would take place on the
weekend, and they expected a few guests.

“Nothing special,” Julian told me in the
morning after they had left. “It’s like they do this every few
months or so. A few friends get together and have a nice evening of
dancing, eating, and sampling the wine they produced the previous
year.”

“When will the party take place?” My
innocence covered my immediate pondering how I could escape
attending.

“Tomorrow.”

“Oh, so soon.” But there was still time to
come down with a headache by Saturday afternoon. I was certainly
not attending a party where everyone would gawk at me—the recovered
daughter from England. They would have to find some other party
gossip.

“Yeah, but as I said, it’s nothing big, so
don’t worry.” He gave me a smile that stopped before it reached his
eyes. And then he was gone. Without another word, Julian trudged
back to the house, staying inside for a longer period than
usual.

Okay. Be gone. I don’t care.

And I certainly wouldn’t worry about the
festivity
.
But wait, didn’t I feel a slight pressure in my
forehead already? I sneered at the shrub to my right, caressing its
fine leaves with dirty fingers. “After all, I came here to work and
not to celebrate, didn’t I?”

In the evening, Albert startled me after
dinner when he planted his big hand on my shoulder to stop me from
retreating to my room too early.

“Are you not forgetting something?”

“What? No.” With a peek around him, I
checked whether I’d left a plate or a glass behind when I cleared
the table. “Everything’s in the dish washer.”

A smirk deepened the laugh lines around his
mouth. “Not the dishes, child. It is Friday, or payday for
you.”

He held two crispy green one-hundred euro
bills out to me. Heart pounding, I shook with excitement. Very
slowly, my hand moved forward.

Suddenly, I felt a pinch on both sides of my
waist and jumped with a shriek.

“It’s just money, Jona.” Julian laughed
behind me. “It doesn’t bite.”

“But
I
might, if you do that again!”
My scowl was meant to keep him off but it had no effect. The glint
in his eyes indicated he was up to no good.

“What? You mean this?” He nipped me again,
and I scrambled out of his reach.

“You’re dead, boy!”

He only had a second to dash out of the
kitchen and for his life before I started after him.

Bells of his laughter echoed through the
entire house as he raced upstairs. “If you want to get me, you’ve
to cross the balcony.”

Taking the steps by twos, I darted after
him. But he beat me to his room and slammed the door shut. I
skittered to a halt but crashed into solid wood. Lips pressed
together, I pounded a flat hand to the door. “You’ll have to come
out eventually. And then I’ll get you.”

“My balcony doors are always open.” Muffled
chuckles sounded from the other side. All right, he didn’t take me
serious.

The door rattled under my kick. I wouldn’t
give him the satisfaction and venture out on the porch again. No, I
strode to my room and slumped into bed. Lying there for a quarter
of an hour and counting the knotholes on the ceiling calmed me.
Until I remembered that Albert still had my money.

“Crap.” Shoving my boots aside, I walked
down the stairs bare foot.

Voices drifted from the kitchen, Julian’s
among them. The perfect moment to get my revenge. Sneaking closer,
I stopped in the shadows of the hallway.

“But don’t you think it is mean to leave her
unknowing?” my aunt said. Her concerned voice came from the
direction of the table.

“You won’t tell her.” At Julian standing so
close to the door I took a slight jump back. Though his command
sounded polite, friendly even, there was no mistaking he meant what
he said. And if he’d asked this of me, I would have obeyed without
further thought.

But what wasn’t Marie supposed to tell? And
to whom? The thought of revenge dropped from my mind. Stepping into
the kitchen, I spoke in the most inconspicuous tone. “Are you
talking about Charlene?”

Julian shot me a sharp glance. His knuckles
turned white while he gripped the door handle, and a deep crease
formed between his brows.

Shit.
Could they have been talking
about me?

Marie rose from her seat. Too quickly. “Good
you came down. You forgot your money.” She retrieved the bills from
a drawer, which she slammed shut with a light bump of her hip. Her
thumb smoothed over my cheek. “Now hurry to put the money away. It
is quite a lot, and you better not carry this amount around in your
pocket all day.”

I nodded. “Thanks.” But why would she want
me out of the kitchen so fast? This was totally not like her. Then
again, who cared? I held two hundred euro in my hand. Screw me, I
wasn’t the happiest person in the world.

Turning to Julian, I flashed a grin. “See
you upstairs?”

“Later. I promised your mother to take a
walk with her through the vines.” His mouth shifted funnily to one
side. “But you could join us.”

Bellowing a laugh, I put a distancing step
between me and Julian. “Forget it.”

He might act like her long lost son all he
wanted, but he’d never succeed in reuniting me and the dragon.
Disappointment stung my insides as I spun on my heel and headed
upstairs.

I pulled the euro notes from my pocket.
Shit, where could I hide the money? A book didn’t seem the right
place, too unsteady. Maybe somewhere in the bathroom? But there
were only shelves and no drawers. Finally, I found the perfect
place in my wardrobe underneath the pile of multicolored T-shirts.
Content with my slyness, I rubbed my hands together. Not long and
the bills would double in there.

Back leaning against the frame of the French
door, my gaze traveled out to the vineyard. My mother’s weak voice
drifted to me from the garden and sent a shiver of aversion from my
neck down to my toes. So they’d started their stroll, and I was
left alone in my room. Julian should have asked
me
to join
him and not the dragon.

Standing on tiptoes, I tried to catch a
glimpse of them when they ambled out to the field. A scrape on the
door drew my attention, but after a quick glance to the entrance, I
peered outside again. The scraping became more insistent, and a
dog’s whine drifted through the slit under the door.

“All right, Lou-Lou!” My initial fear of her
under control, I threw my hands in the air and crossed the floor to
let her in. She’d never been up here in all the time since I
occupied this room. Strange that she started visiting me now.

I pulled the door open. With the first
glimpse at her blood smeared muzzle and the thing hanging from it,
I shrieked like hell itself opened to swallow me.

The killer gaze from the dog’s beastly eyes
started an avalanche of horror-shivers raking over my body. With my
hands pressed to my cheeks, I retreated into the room. The
earsplitting screams continued to bounce off the walls.

Flap. Flap.
A rumbling behind me. And
then a pair of strong arms pulled me into a protective hold.

Julian must have come in over the balcony.
He held me like he feared for my life. In his embrace, I turned to
bury my face in his shoulder. A soothing wave carried me along,
while his soft fingers brushed through my hair.

“What happened?” His chin rubbed against the
side of my head when he spoke with insistence.

I pointed a hand to Lou-Lou. “She killed
someone.”

Julian gripped both my shoulders and shoved
me away from him to look at my face. “What?” Shifting his glance
past me, he seemed to notice the dog for the first time. “Oh,
no.”

He let go of me to kneel down. Lou-Lou sat
still in front of him like she waited for the entire turmoil to
cease so she could proudly present her catch. A duck. Julian took
the slain fowl from her to cradle its lifeless body in his arms.
Satisfied smacks drifted into the room as Lou-Lou licked the blood
from her muzzle.

Tears of shock and also compassion for the
dead duck blurred my vision. Through my misty eyes, I vaguely made
out how Julian stroked the duck’s hackly feathers. Head dipped, he
regarded the animal in his arm and walked past me toward the
balcony. A torn sound came from the bundle he carried hidden from
my view.

A quack?

No, couldn’t be. The duck was dead.

The atmosphere in the room suddenly took on
a sparkling charge which gently rubbed against my skin. Like a tub
filled with cotton, the air bathed me in a feeling most similar to
relief.

Frozen, I stood in the middle of the room as
the quacking grew louder and fevered. Flapping wings and a clacking
beak appeared over Julian’s shoulder when he stepped out on the
balcony. One second later, the duck, struck with Julian’s powerful
push, winged skyward.

What in the name of God—
He just
resurrected the duck.

Like he did with my mother when he didn’t
know I was watching.

Disbelief choked me. Mouth dry, I struggle
to set this puzzle together. But I was numb from shock, and nothing
made sense. On wobbly knees, I stepped forward, gripped the
backrest of my chair for support, and put it as a barrier between
Julian and me when he returned.

“What did you do to that duck?” I croaked,
passing the initial state of hysteria.

He shrugged. “I set it free.”

“It was dead.” I forced the words out, but
they were barely audible.

“No, it wasn’t.” Intending to place a
calming hand on my shoulder, he stepped around the chair. The
casters squeaked on the floor as I retreated.

“Lou-Lou killed the duck before she brought
it upstairs. I saw the blood. Your shirt is stained, and just look
at her muzzle.” I pointed to the door, and we both switched our
gazes to the dog. But her face was clean again, her tongue lolling
sideways in a contented way.

“Lou-Lou only shredded the duck…a little.
The animal probably passed out from shock.”

I inhaled. Deep and slow. “Okay.”
Okay.
This might be a plausible explanation for the happy
bird gliding into the sky again. Unconscious, all right. And
Julian’s stroking woke it.

Raised it from the dead. The thought turned
my blood cold.

Now get a hold of yourself, he’s no
voodoo priest,
common sense reasoned with me.
You passed out
in the dining hall three years ago when Elisabeth Morgan
accidentally slammed a door into your face. That’s what happens
when something gets hit.
Fine.