“He called it—”
“Phantom Watch. I read that book.” As a ripple of fascination raced up her spine, she stared through the bars of the gates. “Of course. He described it all perfectly, but then he’s a wonderful writer.” She looked back at Flynn, suspiciously. “You’re friends with Jordan Hawke?”
“Since we were kids. He grew up in the Valley. I guess we were sixteen—me, Jordan, and Brad—sucking down beers in the woods, slapping mosquitoes the size of sparrows, and telling very inventive lies about our sexual prowess.”
“It’s illegal to drink at sixteen,” Malory said primly.
He shifted, and even through the shaded lenses of his sunglasses, she could see his eyes laughing. “Really? What were we thinking? Anyway, ten years later, Jordan’s got his first bestseller, and Brad’s off running the family empire—that would be lumber and the HomeMakers chain for Bradley Charles Vane IV, and I’m planning on heading to New York to be a hotshot reporter for the Times.”
Her eyebrows winged up. “You worked for the New York Times?”
“No, I never went. One thing and another,” he said with a shrug. “Let’s see what I can do about getting us through this gate.”
Even as he started to ste
p out of the car, the gate opened with a kind of otherworldly silence that sent a chill dancing along the nape of his neck. “Must really keep it lubed,” he murmured. “And I guess somebody knows we’re out here.”
He slid back behind the wheel and drove through.
The house looked just as strange and stark and stunning in daylight as it had in a night storm. There was no magnificent stag to greet her, but the flag with its key emblem flew high and white, and rivers of flowers ran below. Gargoyles clung to the stone, and looked, to Malory’s mind, as if they were considering leaping, not so playfully, on any visitor.
“I never got this close in the daylight.” Slowly Flynn stepped out of the car.
“It’s spooky.”
“Yeah, but in a good way. It’s terrific, like something you expect to see on a cliff above a raging sea. Too bad there’s no moat. That would really top it off.”
“Wait until you see the inside.” Malory moved up beside him, and didn’t object in the least when Flynn took her hand. The tickle at the back of her throat made her feel foolish and female.
“I don’t know why I’m so nervous.” She caught herself whispering it, then her hand jerked in Flynn’s when the big entrance door opened.
Rowena stood framed in the towering doorway. She wore simple gray pants with a roomy shirt the color of the forest. Her hair spilled over her shoulders, her lips were unpainted, her feet bare. But however casual the outfit, she managed to look exotic, like some foreign queen on a quiet holiday.
Malory caught the glint of diamonds at her ears.
“How lovely.” Rowena held out a hand on which rings sparkled elegantly. “How nice to see you again, Malory. And you’ve brought me such a handsome surprise.”
“Flynn Hennessy. He’s Dana’s brother.”
“Welcome. Pitte will be right along. He’s just finishing up a call.” She gestured them inside.
Flynn had to resist gawking at the foyer. “It doesn’t seem like the kind of place you’d find telephones.”
Rowena’s chuckle was low, almost a purr. “We enjoy the advantages of technology. Come, we’ll have tea.”
“We don’t want to put you to any trouble,” Malory began, but Rowena waved her off.
“Guests are never any trouble.”
“How did you find out about Warrior’s Peak, Miss . . .”
“Rowena.” She slid an arm silkily through Flynn’s as she walked them to the parlor. “You must call me Rowena. Pitte always has an ear to the ground for an interesting spot.”
“You travel a lot?”
“We do, yes.”
“For work or pleasure?”