Reckless Desire (Saved By Desire 6)

Everything slowly shuddered to a halt. Time was temporarily suspended. Nothing registered beyond the sight of her a man-a stranger-hanging lifelessly from the neck in her father’s bedchamber.

Is this why father isn’t here? Has he done this? As soon as she thought it she began to deny the possibility. Her father wasn’t a killer. He couldn’t be responsible for something like this. But then, she wouldn’t have believed him to be the kind of father who would abandon her at a musical, but it looked like he had. She dreaded to think what this meant for the arrangement he had apparently entered into with the man who called himself the Count.

“What have you done?” she cried softly in dismay.

She couldn’t bring herself to look at the horror again. What she had witnessed already was indelibly printed on her mind for all eternity. For as long as she lived she would never forget the sight of …. that.

She awkwardly pushed herself onto her knees and tried to stand up only to find the trembling in her legs wouldn’t allow her. Her horror grew when she realised she couldn’t get away from it-him-whoever he was. She didn’t need to look at that twisted face again to know that she didn’t recognise him.

“I need to get out of here,” she sobbed aloud.

This time, when she got to her feet, she forced her legs to lock beneath her and hold her upright. Her stomach roiled its objection to the movement, but she ignored it as she stumbled to the door, desperately trying to ignore the way the body swung silently in a circle. Around and around in a haunting circle, it was unnerving. She had no idea how long she had been unconscious on the floor, but from the way the body was gently swinging in the room with no breeze, it looked as th

ough the death had only recently happened.

Fear began to build and made her shake alarmingly. Her gaze flew around the room in search of someone and fell on the swinging body again. Whoever the man was, his face wasn’t mottled, so hadn’t been there all that long. Rigor mortis hadn’t settled in yet.

Did that mean the killer was still in the house somewhere?

Placing her hands on either side of her head, she stared blankly at the body and tried to decide what to do. Everything within her screamed at her to leave; to not just get out of the room but out of the house completely, but she couldn’t. Her feet wouldn’t work. If she ran into someone out in the hallway, she had no idea what she would do. She was too scared to go anywhere. Besides, she had no place else to go. This was her home.

“What is going on? Why?” She whispered, well aware that the silence wouldn’t bring her any answers. Talking to herself didn’t bring her the solace it usually did. Instead, it emphasised her loneliness which in turn increased her worries.

“I have to get out,” she gulped.

She forced herself to move before she could talk herself out of it. On her way to the door she forgot that the blanket was wrapped around her and stumbled when she tried to take a shuffling step. She dropped the blanket and was immediately swamped with cold air again. It made her shiver even more. The more she walked, the faster she walked until she was running by the time she reached her room again. Slamming the door behind her she leaned against it, but couldn’t drag her thoughts away from the macabre scene behind her.

It, the body, was still in the house with her.

Stumbling forward, she dug into her drawers and unearthed her pouch of coins. It was her precious stash of money from the allowance her father gave her that she hadn’t spent and was all she had in the world aside from her clothing. It was enough for her to get away. Quickly stuffing as many of her things into a carpet bag as she could, she yanked it off her bed, threw two of her thickest shawls over her shoulders, and slammed out of the room.

She daren’t even glance at her father’s bed chamber as she ran past it. Neither did she stop as she raced through the house, straight out of the back door. In that moment, she didn’t care who was outside or still lurking within, as long as they didn’t try to stop her.

But stop her they did, when she raced down the garden path and slammed straight into a tall, solid figure that was achingly familiar. Instinctively, she cried out and clung to him.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Marguerite allowed the tears to flow. She didn’t have the strength or presence of mind to withhold them, especially when she looked up, straight into the eyes of Jeremy, the man she had once thought she should avoid.

“What is it?” Joe demanded when he saw the look on her face.

When she had run into him, his hands had instinctively lifted to hold her in place, not least to prevent her from running away again. Now they held her in place to keep her upright because he suspected that whatever had happened inside, she was going to fall if he didn’t hold her up.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded harshly when she swallowed several times, opened her mouth but didn’t seem able to speak.

He had been working with the Star Elite for many years now and knew when a person was in shock.

She is also going to be ill if she stays in this cold, Joe mused feeling her chilled flesh beneath his fingers.

Hauling her toward him, he was alarmed by the defeated way she slumped against him and rested her head on his chest for several moments. His eyes met Marcus’ and Ben’s for a few moments. They all studied what they could see of the gardens and house, but nothing appeared to be wrong. But, to their well-trained eyes, that was no reassurance. It was almost too still and quiet.

“Marguerite, I need you to talk to me,” Joe began. “Tell me what has happened. What’s in there?”

Marguerite lifted her head. She had no idea if she could trust him or not, or how he had managed to find her, but he was the only person around she could turn to.

“There is a man,” she whispered. “I-inside. Jeremy, he is d-d-dead.”

She gulped and felt sick.