Because You're Mine(42)

She suppressed a shiver. “What does she look like?”

“She wears a flowing white dress with her red hair down to her waist. She usually floats along the grass. Once I saw her sitting by the water combing her hair with a silver comb.”

“And does she have wings?”

“Wings?”

“You know the legends, don’t you? When a banshee leaves, you can hear the flutter of wings.”

“I don’t know about that. She’s beautiful, just like you. In fact, she could be you.” The cynicism was gone from his face again.

His description matched everything she’d always heard about banshees. Alanna put the music box back on the stand. “You’re joking, righto? You’ve never really seen her.”

“No joke. I’m sure Barry has seen her too. It’s no wonder he was determined to marry you.”

“He married me to help me,” she said. “You mustn’t think he had any agenda.”

Grady’s laugh held derision. “He’s sure got the wool pulled over your eyes, Alanna. I knew the minute I saw you that he would have stopped at nothing to have you.”

She hugged herself, ready to end this conversation. “You really don’t like your brother much, do you?”

“What’s not to like? A blue blood born to greatness who knows it. The great one bestowing favors on us peons.” He gave a bitter laugh. “Barry always gets what he wants.”

“Sure, but it’s sad that you and your brother can’t love one another,” she said. “My sister . . .” She looked down at her bare feet peeking from the hem of her gown.

“What about your sister?”

“I don’t even know where she is,” Alanna said, wondering why she was telling him this. “I was taken from our mum when I was three and she was eight.” Her fingers caressed the smooth wood of the music box. “She had a box just like this one.”

“What happened when your mother left?” he asked, his voice gentle.

Wishing she’d never brought it up, she shrugged. “I don’t remember very much, just crying for her. The woman she left me with slapped me and told me she’d come back someday. I never saw either of them again.”

“Maybe it’s better that way,” he said, his tone turning cynical again. “Finding out the truth might be more painful than what you’ve already survived.”

She didn’t want to talk about it anymore, not to this young man with the orange mohawk and hooded eyes. “I’m lost. Can you be showing me the way to my room?”

“I’m headed that way myself.” He glanced at the scrape on her arm. “What happened to you?”

If he hadn’t been so hot and cold, she might have told him the truth. “I fell down the hill. You didn’t hear the ambulance come?”

“I went to the bar for a few drinks and just got home. You’re okay? And the baby?”

“We’re both fine.” She glanced at the music box again. It would be so comforting in her room. And wasn’t she the mistress of the house now? “I’ll be taking this to my room,” she said. “Barry won’t object.”

Grady shrugged. “Suit yourself, but remember I told you so.”

Carrying the heavy box, she followed him out the door. As she shut the door behind her, she thought she heard the flutter of wings, and a shudder went down her back.

Silly superstition. She followed Grady through the labyrinth of corridors. “I would never find this by myself. How do you know the way?”

“I’ve explored this old place many times.” He stopped in front of a door and rattled the locked knob. “Except for this room. Barry has it locked up tight. He won’t let anyone in it.”

Alanna touched the cold knob. “What’s in here, do you suppose?”

“No idea.”

“Does he ever go inside?”

“Nearly every night before he goes to bed.”

Her curiosity was truly piqued now. Barry was so indulgent with her. Maybe he would allow her access.

“Maybe he’s an ax murderer and he keeps his toys inside,” Grady said, grinning.

She rolled her eyes. “You really do hate him, don’t you?” Still, she couldn’t help giving the door one final glance before following Grady to her bedroom.





Nineteen


Alanna thrust the curtains aside and allowed sunshine to stream into the room. She needed the brightness to wash away the nightmares of the night before. Every muscle in her body screamed with pain, and she hobbled as she went to the dresser. She wore a flowing skirt and loose top so nothing chafed her sore skin.

Her fingers caressed the wood of the music box, worn smooth by the touch of so many hands over the decades. She found the winding mechanism and twisted it. The lovely strains that tinkled out made her aches disappear. She had to find out about this melody and this box. Could it possibly be the same one her sister had? And if it was, how had it come to be here in this mansion? The tune haunted her, and she wasn’t sure how to go about discovering the name of the song. Maybe Barry would know.

She ran her fingers over the smooth wood again. Practice was what she needed today. Playing her fiddle with her mates would get rid of this unsettled sensation she carried.