I gave an inward sigh. All I wanted at that moment was a hot bath, a soothing cup of chamomile and Angus keeping watch from the back porch. But I was my mother’s daughter, and the Southern social graces were as deeply ingrained in my nature as my father’s rules. I nodded and smiled politely as I moved over to the steps.
The air had chilled as the sun had gone down, and the woods crowded in on us. I could smell the evergreens as they loomed thick in the fading light, rank upon rank of towering sentinels. I drew Angus close as Thane and I sat side by side on the porch.
“What’s this about Thorngate?” I asked.
He paused for a moment as his gaze scoured the landscape. I had a feeling he was searching for something to say. “I haven’t been up there in years. How bad is it?”
“I’ve seen worse.” I gave him a puzzled glance. He faced straight ahead, and I could divine nothing from his profile. But instinct told me that the cemetery was the furthest thing from his mind, and I began to feel a little apprehensive. Why was he really here?
He turned suddenly and caught me staring. I glanced away as warmth stole up my neck. “I’ll tell you a little secret about Thorngate,” he said. “The only way to fully appreciate it is by moonlight. There’s an area near the mausoleum that was specifically designed for nighttime viewing.”
I thought about the stone angels with their strange, upturned faces and the silvery overgrowth of sage, wormwood and moonshine yarrow. “I recognized the remains of a white garden,” I told him. “I have one at home so I can well imagine how beautiful the cemetery would be in moonlight. Especially with all those statues. The faces are extraordinary.”
“Yes,” he said dryly. “We Ashers have always been very good at erecting handsome monuments to ourselves.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing, I suppose, except our ego has taken ostentation to a whole new level. I sometimes wonder if all that money spent on the dead might not have been put to better use on the living.”
“But cemeteries are for the living,” I said. “And those who pay tribute to the dead usually have a commensurate respect for life.”
He gave me a look that I couldn’t begin to interpret. “You really don’t know very much about us, do you?”
A brittle edge in his voice made me wonder again about his relationship with his family, but I merely shrugged.
Angus had planted himself in the middle by this time so that neither of us had to reach too far to pet him. He was no fool. I scratched behind one of the ear nubs while Thane ran his hand along the sharp ridge of his backbone. The rhythmic motion was very soothing, and I began to relax.
“How did you get involved in the cemetery business?” he asked.
“My father was a caretaker for many years. He taught me early on an appreciation for old Southern graveyards. When I was a kid, I used to think the cemetery by our house was enchanted. It was my favorite place to play. I called it my kingdom.”
“Is that why you’re known as The Graveyard Queen?”
“How in the world did you find out about that?” I asked in surprise.
“I looked you up.”
“And?”
“You’re accomplished for someone so young. Undergraduate degree in anthropology from the University of South Carolina, a master’s in archeology from Chapel Hill and you spent two years in the State Archeologist’s office before opening your own business. All very impressive.”
“It seems you’ve gone to a great deal of trouble to check me out,” I said coolly.
“Not really. It was all there on your website.”
“Oh. Right.”
He grinned, and I couldn’t help noticing how young and appealing he looked when he smiled. He should do more of that, but then…the same could undoubtedly be said about me.
“Were you worried about my credentials?” I asked.
“No. I was curious about
That silenced me. I wasn’t looking at him, but I knew his eyes were on me. I could feel that gaze just as surely as I felt the sting of all those scratches.
“Actually, I did a little more than read your website,” he confessed. “I came across a newspaper account of the cemetery restoration in Charleston last spring.”
“Oak Grove,” I said and felt the familiar hitch in my breath when I remembered.
The knife scar from my struggle with a killer tingled on my upper arm even though the cut had healed months ago. But the wounds on the inside ran deeper. The fear had subsided, at least during daylight hours, but the memory of my entrapment would fester for years, gnawing at me relentlessly on nights when sleep was hard to come by.
Thane must have sensed my reluctance to dredge up that particular nightmare because he said nothing else on the subject. But his gaze on me was soft and so gently inviting that I found myself wanting to confide in him. I suddenly had an intense need to let everything that had happened all those months ago come pouring out, but I barely knew the man. I couldn’t talk to him about personal things. Especially not about Devlin.
We didn’t speak again for several long moments. Thane continued to stroke Angus’s back, and I felt myself slide even more deeply into relaxation. Maybe after the ordeal in the thicket, I was simply too bone tired to fight it. Had it not been getting on dusk, I would have been content to remain as we were, but it was long past time I learned the real purpose of his visit.
“You didn’t come here to talk to me about Thorngate, did you?” I asked. “Why are you really here?”
The hand stilled on Angus’s back and he glanced up. “I need a favor.”
I frowned. “What kind of favor?”
“What are your plans for the evening?”
I hadn’t anticipated that question. The amity I’d felt moments before vanished, and I found myself pulling away. “Early dinner, early bedtime,” I said stiffly. “I get up at the crack of dawn.”
“Could you make an exception just this once? I’d like you to come to a small dinner party at Asher House tonight. We have them every so often. My grandfather started the tradition a long time ago when the community first fell on hard times. Jobs were drying up, people were moving away. He wanted to find a way to show solidarity with the townspeople. A noble enough sentiment, I guess, but over the past few years, the evenings have degenerated into the same handful of guests. It’s become tiresome. We’re in dire need of fresh blood.”
The chill in the breeze made me shiver. “Thank you, but I’m not much on dinner parties. And even if I were, I don’t have anything suitable to wear. I packed mostly work clothes.”
His gaze drifted over me. “You can come as you are as far as I’m concerned.”
I gave an awkward laugh to cover my uneasiness. “I think I could at least manage a shower.”
“Is that a yes, then?”
I shook my head. “Sorry. I’m really not in the mood for a party. It’s been a long day.” And I needed time alone to digest everything that had happened in the laurel bald.
“Then I guess I’ll just have to be a little more persuasive,” he said slowly.
“Meaning?”
“I believe I have something you want.”
My pulse quickened at his ominous tone, even though I suspected he was teasing me. “And what would that be?”
“A lot of the old cemetery records are stored at Asher House. I could arrange for you to have a look at them.”
“Luna told me the records were stored at the library in town.”
“Some of them are, but not the ones you’ll want to see. If you come to dinner, I’ll make sure you have full access.”
“That sounds very much like a bribe,” I accused.
He grinned. “Would it pique your interest to know there are pictures—actual photographs—of the cemetery from the late 1800s? The original site map should still be around, too, and who knows? We may even be able to
