reams of gibberish and acted as if the mess were legitimate notes on his work. She couldn't consult with nothing to work with. Dr. Peter Whitney, father or not, had a lot to answer for and he'd ducked out on their appointed meeting like a coward in retreat.
Impatience crossed the chauffeur's face. 'That man. He needs an assistant to walk along behind him and kick him every now and then so he notices he's actually living in the real world.' The renowned doctor had a long history of ignoring or forgetting his daughter's important moments and it annoyed John. The event never mattered- birthdays, planned outings, graduation ceremonies, Dr. Whitney just never remembered. The chauffeur had attended each and every event, watching Lily earn honor after honor without a family member present. It was a sore point with John Brimslow that his boss would treat his daughter with so little care.
Lily burst out laughing. 'Is that what you say about me when I'm researching and I forget to come home?' She kept her gaze centered on the top button of John's coat, hoping she had become an expert at hiding emotion. She was used to her father's absentminded ways concerning her. Their dinner date would never have been important enough to him to try to remember it and normally she would have been understanding. She often was caught up in a research project and forgot to eat or sleep or talk with others. She could hardly condemn her father for being the same way. But this time, he was going to get a well-deserved earful, and he was going to sit down and tell her everything she wanted to know about Captain Miller and his men, with no excuses.
Her chauffeur grinned unrepentantly. 'Of course.'
'I'll be up to the house in a few minutes. Tell Rosa, will you please, otherwise she'll worry.' Lily stepped away from the car with a small wave, turning away so John couldn't continue to look at her face. She knew her face had thinned, making her cheekbones stick out, and not in the complimentary way of a model. The nightmares had put dark smudges under her eyes and a droop in her shoulders. She had never been all that much to look at, with her too large eyes and her limp, and she had never been fashionably thin. Her body was curvy at a young age and insisted, no matter how much exercise she did, on being truly feminine. She had never minded much before about her looks, but now…
Lily closed her eyes. Ryland Miller. Why couldn't she have looked stunningly attractive just once? He was so unbelievably sexy. She had never been attracted to classic handsomeness. Miller wasn't handsome, he was too earthy, had too much raw power. Her entire body felt hot just thinking about him. And the way he looked at her… No one had ever looked at her like that before. He looked hungry for her.
She slipped off her heels and stared up at the house. She loved San Francisco, and living in the hills overlooking the beautiful city was a treasure she never tired of. Theirs was an Old World country estate, several stories high and sprawled out with balconies and terraces, giving it an elegant, romantic charm. The house had more rooms than she and her father could ever possibly use, but she loved every inch of it. The walls were thick and the spaces wide. Her refuge. Her sanctuary. God knew she needed one.
The wind blew softly, ruffling her hair and touching her face gently. The breeze brought her a sense of comfort. After a nightmare, the impression of danger usually dissipated a few minutes after waking, but this time it lingered, an alarm that was becoming frightening. Night was beginning to fall. She stared up at the skies, watching the gray threads spinning into darkening clouds overhead and floating across the moon. Dusk was a soft blanket enfolding her. Wisps of fog began to drift across the terraced lawns, white lace in ribbons curling around the trees and bushes.
Lily turned in a circle, taking in the rolling manicured lawns, the shrubbery and trees, the fountains and gardens artfully placed to please the eye. The sprawling acreage to the front was always perfectly immaculate without so much as a leaf or blade of grass put of place, but behind the house, the woods were left wild. There always seemed to her a balance in nature, a quiet and a sense of peace. Her home gave her a freedom she couldn't find anywhere else.
Lily had always been different. She had a gift-a talent, her father called it. She called it a curse. She could touch people and know their private thoughts. Things not meant to be out in the open. Dark secrets and forbidden desires. She had other gifts as well. Her home was her one refuge, a sanctuary with walls thick enough to protect her from the assault of intense emotions bombarding her night and day.
Fortunately, Peter Whitney seemed to have natural barriers so that she couldn't read him when he had tucked her into bed at night as a child. Still, he had been careful of physical contact, careful the barriers in his mind held firm when she was around. And he had taken great care in finding others with natural barriers so that her home was always a sanctuary for her. The people who had cared for her became her family and were all people she could safely touch. It had never occurred to her until that moment to ask how Peter Whitney had known the people he hired were people his unusual daughter would be unable to read.
Ryland Miller had been totally unexpected. She could have sworn the earth moved when she first set eyes on him. He had gifts and talents of his own. Lily knew her father considered him dangerous. She sensed Ryland was dangerous but she wasn't certain in what way. A small smile curved her mouth. He was probably dangerous to all women. He certainly had an effect on her body. She had to corner her father and make him listen to her for once. She needed a few answers that only he could give her.
Anxiety settled in the pit of her stomach and Lily pressed a hand to her midsection, wondering at the persistence of the threatening omen. She knew better than to ignore a continual disquiet so deeply imbedded in her bones. With a soft sigh, Lily headed determinedly for the house. The path she took was a narrow one, made of blue-gray slate, leading around the maze, through the tea garden toward a side entrance.
Lily stepped on the smooth slate stair and the earth rocked. She caught at the ornate banister, her shoes falling to the ground as she used both hands to steady herself, it took her a moment to register that there was no earthquake, but the motion was very much as if she were standing on a boat as it was riding over the waves in the ocean. She heard the lapping of the water against wood, a hollow sound that echoed through her mind. The vision was so strong, Lily could smell the sea air, feel the spray of salt water misting her face.
Her stomach clenched in reaction. Lily's fingers tightened until her knuckles turned white. Again she felt the rocking of the waves. She lifted her face to the darkening sky and saw the ominous clouds whirling faster over her head, spinning wildly until only the center was clear and dark and moving relentlessly, searching, searching. Lily jerked her hands from the banister and wrenched open the kitchen door. Staggering inside, she slammed the door and leaned against the wall, her breath coming in hard gasps. She closed her eyes and drew the air of her home, her sanctuary, into her lungs. She was safe inside the thick walls. Safe, as long as she didn't fall asleep.
The kitchen smelled of fresh-baked bread. Everywhere she looked there were gleaming tiles and wide-open spaces. Home. Lily patted the door with her palm. ' Rosa, it smells wonderful in here. Did you cook dinner?'
The short, buxom woman spun around, a large chopping knife in one hand, a carrot in the other. Her dark eyes widened in surprise. 'Miss Lily! You nearly gave me a heart attack. Why didn't you come through the front door like you're supposed to?'
Lily laughed because it was normal for Rosa to scold her and she needed normalcy. 'Why am I supposed to come through the front door?'
'What good is a front door if no one ever uses it?' Rosa complained. Her gaze took in Lily's pale face, her haunted eyes, and then traveled down to Lily's bare feet and shredded nylons. 'What in the world have you done now? And where are your shoes?'
Lily gestured vaguely toward the door. 'Has my father called yet? He was supposed to meet me for dinner at Antonio's but he didn't show up. I waited an hour and a half but he must have forgotten.'
Rosa frowned. As always there was only acceptance in Lily's voice, a gentle amusement that her father had once more forgotten an appointment with his daughter. Rosa wanted to box Dr. Whitney's ears for him. 'That man. No, he didn't call. Did you eat? You're getting skinny, Lily, like a boy.'
'I'm only skinny in places, Rosa,' Lily contradicted. When Rosa glared she shrugged hastily. 'I ate all their bread-it was fresh-baked, but not nearly as good as yours.'
'I'm fixing you a plate of fresh vegetables and insist you eat it!'
Lily smiled at her. 'Sounds good to me.' She hoisted herself onto the countertop, ignoring Rosa 's frown. ' Rosa?' She tapped out a small nervous rhythm with her fingernail. 'I found out the most disturbing thing about myself today.'
Rosa turned quickly back to her. 'Disturbing?'
'All this time I've been around men dressed in suits and ties, good-looking, intelligent men with a portfolio my father would admire, but I've never once been attracted to them. I don't think I even noticed them.'
Rosa broke out into a smile. 'Ah… you met someone. I've always hoped you'd get your nose out of your books
