* * *
Billie lay huddled on the ground, shivering in the cold morning air. Her clothes clung to her body, damp from the overnight dew. Too exhausted to move, she closed her eyes and tried to remember the man she’d only just left. The touch of his hands on her skin, his breath on the back of her neck as they lay together. The way his hand cupped the tiny life growing in her belly, his words of comfort when she lamented the task ahead with her father.
I’m losing my mind. I know I am. Had she imagined another life, another lover? Her mind was a mess of memories and she was unsure where they belonged or to whom they belonged. Surely they weren’t hers. Certainly not the ones of another man and an unborn child. She had neither of those. She’d been celibate since Stephen’s death, but the tingle of her skin reminded her that something had happened. Her body remembered another man’s touch all too well.
A tear slipped from her eye, trickled across her temple and soaked into her hair. It was all too much. The divide between the present and the past had been breached so wide that even she didn’t know what was what anymore. It would be better for her to have stayed where she was, where she couldn’t cause her family any more pain with her twisted understanding of reality.
Most of all she craved his touch on her skin. Desperately needed it to prove to herself that she was still alive. She closed her eyes and willed her mind to take her back.
* * *
“Damn it, Pete isn’t here.” Hamish slammed his car door shut, annoyed with himself that he hadn’t thought to make sure the house would be open today. “If I’d been thinking straight, we could have called into the council and picked up a spare key.”
“We can always look around the garden until he gets here.” Alex let Maggie out of the car and she ran over to the grass and sniffed before rolling on her back in bliss, her little legs kicking up as she scratched her back on the rough ground. When she’d had her fill, she stood up and shook from nose to tail, the bits of dry grass floating from her fur. “Come on, I’ll go around the other side of the lake with Maggie and you can go past the house and we can meet in the middle. What do you say?”
Hamish nodded in acquisition. “Sure, why not. If you find something, whistle as loud as you can. I’ll make my way to the summerhouse and by then, hopefully Pete will have arrived.”
“Cool. Come on, Maggie.” Alex ran down the slope toward the rose gardens with his dog barking at his heels. Thank goodness for pets. Hamish knew it was the best thing he could have given the boy to help him deal with Billie’s disappearance or strange ways. He still didn’t believe she’d deliberately disappeared. Foul play was starting to look feasible and if they didn’t have any luck today, he’d be stopping in at the police station again and reporting her missing. Having to wait another twenty-four hours didn’t cut it with him.
Hamish stalked past Billie’s car, wishing it could give him more clues to her whereabouts. It sat as still as it had the day before. An almost eerie silence hung over the house as he strolled around the side toward the back. The sun hadn’t hit this side of the house and the temperature dropped as he stepped into the shade. Ivy clung to the sandstone walls. Unchecked, it had crept over the edges of the windows, hiding most of the timber frames and etching onto the glass.
Hamish stepped up to a window and peered in. A long dining table sat in the middle of the room. Dust covered cobwebs looped candelabra to candelabra above the table. The sideboard doors hung open and he could see the dinner service stacked inside. Someone had closed the dining-room door and never returned. It gave the house a sad lonely feel and he wondered if it would come back to life once it was open to the public.
It was such a shame that Lucy had hidden her identity. Something tragic must have happened to make her walk away from such a beautiful home and privileged life. Hopefully one day she would feel able to share her story.
Hamish continued around the outside trying doors as he came to them, but they were all locked. The driveway down to the garage and stables didn’t look as if it’d been used for years. Grass rambled over the tracks and the wooden gate lay drunkenly against the post, held in place by a strangling vine.
The silence was broken by a moan coming from the forest. Hamish’s skin prickled and he started to run. “Billie.” A deep inner sense told him it was her. He sprinted over the damp grass, his shoes slipping on the moisture, but he scrambled and continued. It was by a tall tree, not far from the summer house, that he found her crumpled in a heap.
“Oh my God, Billie. Bloody hell.” He dropped to the ground and gathered her into his arms. Her skin was cold and clammy. In the shafts of early morning light beads of dew glistened on her eyelashes. Lifeless she lay in his arms, an occasional moan the only sound she made.
“Speak to me. Billie, open your eyes.” Her
