Because You're Mine(31)

“I was looking for you,” he said.

She remembered the figure she’d seen by the water. Someone had thrown that cat in. “Had you been out here long? Did you see anyone?”

He shrugged. “A few minutes.”

“How did you happen to see me?”

“When I couldn’t find you, I decided to feed Pete. Good thing I did.”

She couldn’t be arguing with that. Still, the thought that he might have thrown the cat into the water haunted her. Who else could it have been? Grady was here. Hattie lived across the way, but Alanna couldn’t see the older woman doing such a thing. So it had either been Grady or Barry, or possibly a transient. Though she doubted anyone would trespass to capture cats and feed them to the gator.

The kitten had been wet too, as though it had been put in the lagoon but managed to escape without being gator food.

“I need a bath,” she said again. As she turned toward the house, she caught sight of a cardboard box by the water. “What’s that?”

“Nothing important. Just stuff I was feeding Pete.”

“What kind of stuff?”

He shrugged. “Garter snakes and lizards I’ve caught.” She shuddered. “Are they alive?”

He folded his arms over his chest. “Sugar, where is this questioning going?”

“They’re alive, aren’t they?”

He shrugged. “Pete likes to catch his food. It’s fun to watch.”

Alanna grimaced. “You watch him catch snakes and lizards? That’s sick, Barry. You threw the cat in the water, too, didn’t you?”

She watched him closely, wishing for a strong denial she could believe. When his shrug came, she took a step back. “You did it?” she whispered.

“I told you—I hate cats. The sneaky creatures slink around, and I fall over them when I least expect it. Don’t make such a fuss about it, sugar.”

Alanna felt ill. Did she know him at all? “I can’t talk about it right now,” she choked out. She ran for the house and paused only to scrape the gunk from the bottom of her feet on the grass by the porch. Inside the manor, she fought tears as she raced up the steps and to her bedroom. She grabbed pajamas and a dressing gown from her dresser before going into the bathroom.

Her cheeks were hot, and she sat on the toilet lid and turned on the shower. There was no bathtub in this room, and she was too dirty for a bath anyway. She shut the door, then stripped off her filthy clothes. Tears still rolled down her cheeks as she stepped under the hot spray. The water at her feet ran dark with South Carolina dirt.

Something creaked. The floor? The muscles in her throat tightened. “Is someone there?” she whispered.

“It’s me, sugar,” Barry said from the other side of the shower curtain. “I wanted to see how you are. I’m sorry if you didn’t understand. I never imagined you would care so much about the cats.”

She heard his steps come nearer and tried to cover herself with her hands. “Please leave, Barry. I’m not dressed.”

“Say you forgive me first. I never meant to hurt you.”

She was frantic to get him out of the bathroom. “I forgive you. Now please leave. I need to get out.”

“Of course. I’ll just take your wet clothes. And I’ll leave your cats alone.”

She heard the door creak again, then a click. Peeking out the shower curtain, she saw she was alone again. Shudders hit her then, an emotional reaction rather than a result of the cold. Her teeth chattered, and she turned up the heat until the water nearly scalded her skin.

Maybe she was overreacting. Not everyone loved animals the way she did. But her reassurances did nothing to stop her teeth from chattering.





Fourteen


The next day Alanna managed to avoid Barry until he left for the office. She didn’t know how to face him now that she’d seen a side of him that dismayed her.

She took her tea and an omelet to the porch and sat, chewing on her lip. When Thomas Connolly accepted that she was actually beyond his reach, she might be able to gain more independence from Barry. She shied away from the word divorce. This issue with the cats was just a misunderstanding. His brutality might be accounted for by a cultural difference she didn’t understand. For all she knew, Americans despised cats the way women she knew hated mice. She wouldn’t have been so upset if he’d thrown mice to the gator.

Sunshine lit the garden. Her mates had promised to come out later to practice. She swallowed the last of her tea, then carried some scraps of omelet in a piece of plastic wrap with her in case she saw Prince. She could see Hattie now.

Not surprisingly, as she approached the shrubs at the far side of the garden, a black nose pushed out from under them.

“Here, Prince.” The Irish Setter crawled toward her, his tail swishing ever so slightly more than it had. He was warming up to her. She petted and made over him, then left him licking his chops and made her way along the path to Hattie’s cottage.

Such a fine spring day. With the birds singing and the sunshine warming her shoulders, she could almost forget the night’s horror. A pregnant woman was supposed to be emotional. That might be a problem she hadn’t expected. Her hands smoothed her belly, and she smiled when she felt the baby kick.

The cottage played peekaboo through the trees until she exited the grove and trod the stone path to the front of the small white house. The freshly painted green shutters matched the door. Planters of blooming flowers sat on the windowsills. More flowers lined the path as she neared the front. Hattie had a green thumb.