say."
Courtland smiled at last. "That it does. I've always likened this house to a ship Ainsley just happened to build on land. And I know you'll do just fine, Jacob. We all know what we're to do, don't we?" Then he shook his head. "Your wife is our sentry on the roof? God, we live in a world gone mad, don't we?"
Jacob only grinned before taking himself toward the kitchens and the staircase tucked behind a seemingly solid wall of pantry shelves, and Courtland headed for another set of secret stairs, these leading down to Odette's private quarters, her altar room.
With Odette upstairs, sleeping in the dressing room of Eleanor and Jack's bedchamber these last months, her chambers were the first place Courtland thought of looking for Cassandra, as no one else would think to search those rooms.
He took a candle from a table in the hallway and stepped carefully onto the dark stairs, to see a soft glow ahead of him, at the base of those stairs.
He had guessed correctly.
"Cassandra?" he called out as he entered the room that seemed part sorcerer's cave, part church, complete with altar. But the thick candles burning on that altar illuminated enough of the room to tell him that Cassandra wasn't there.
He was about to turn around, think of somewhere else to search, when he heard Cassandra call his name.
"How did you find me?" she asked, opening the door cleverly cut into a corner of the room, the one that led to the large, secret storeroom, and entering the main chamber. Obviously she'd heard someone coming down the stairs, and gone into the storeroom to hide herself. "Better yet, Courtland— why? Anyone would think the last thing you'd ever want is to look for me if I'm not in sight."
She was still dressed in the pale yellow gown, and the light from the candles set the rubies around her throat and wrist to glowing with red fire. "Why did you come down here, Cassandra? To ask Odette to put a curse on me? Should I expect to have my teeth begin falling out anytime soon?"
Cassandra shrugged her slim shoulders. "Odette keeps some of my mama's things down here. A lock of her hair, one of her silver-backed brushes, a small portrait— over there, on the altar, see it? Sometimes, when I want to feel close to Mama, I come down here, talk to her a little. Someone's always walking in or out of the drawing room, so I can't talk to her portrait over the fireplace without someone overhearing me. Odette doesn't mind."
"So you were down here, talking to your mother?" Courtland knew he should be grabbing her, hauling her up to Eleanor's bedchamber, and then getting himself back to the business at hand, but he was so transfixed by the sight of Cassandra in the candlelight, the words she was saying to him, that he held his tongue.
"You think I'm silly. You knew her, Courtland, I never did. Lisette…Lisette told me she never knew her mama, either, but that she dreams of her, and then she seems real. I've never dreamt of my mama, not even one time. I…I wanted her to seem real. That's all."
"Oh, Jesus," Courtland swore under his breath. He'd wanted to hear what she had to say, but this was the worst possible time to sit with her, comfort her. "Your mama used to sing to you," he said, taking her hands in his. "She had a beautiful voice, just like yours. She loved you very much, would have done anything for you. She just couldn't live for you, Callie," he said, slipping into his childhood name for her.
"No. She died for me, instead. I know. And you protected me. It was all so long ago, but now it all seems so close. The island, all of it."
"This will be over soon, I promise," he told her, longing to pull her into his arms, protect her. Love her. "We're not going to have to live this way anymore, always wondering if and when the past is going to come back in an attempt to destroy us."
Cassandra took a step forward, leaned her
Courtland smiled at last. "That it does. I've always likened this house to a ship Ainsley just happened to build on land. And I know you'll do just fine, Jacob. We all know what we're to do, don't we?" Then he shook his head. "Your wife is our sentry on the roof? God, we live in a world gone mad, don't we?"
Jacob only grinned before taking himself toward the kitchens and the staircase tucked behind a seemingly solid wall of pantry shelves, and Courtland headed for another set of secret stairs, these leading down to Odette's private quarters, her altar room.
With Odette upstairs, sleeping in the dressing room of Eleanor and Jack's bedchamber these last months, her chambers were the first place Courtland thought of looking for Cassandra, as no one else would think to search those rooms.
He took a candle from a table in the hallway and stepped carefully onto the dark stairs, to see a soft glow ahead of him, at the base of those stairs.
He had guessed correctly.
"Cassandra?" he called out as he entered the room that seemed part sorcerer's cave, part church, complete with altar. But the thick candles burning on that altar illuminated enough of the room to tell him that Cassandra wasn't there.
He was about to turn around, think of somewhere else to search, when he heard Cassandra call his name.
"How did you find me?" she asked, opening the door cleverly cut into a corner of the room, the one that led to the large, secret storeroom, and entering the main chamber. Obviously she'd heard someone coming down the stairs, and gone into the storeroom to hide herself. "Better yet, Courtland— why? Anyone would think the last thing you'd ever want is to look for me if I'm not in sight."
She was still dressed in the pale yellow gown, and the light from the candles set the rubies around her throat and wrist to glowing with red fire. "Why did you come down here, Cassandra? To ask Odette to put a curse on me? Should I expect to have my teeth begin falling out anytime soon?"
Cassandra shrugged her slim shoulders. "Odette keeps some of my mama's things down here. A lock of her hair, one of her silver-backed brushes, a small portrait— over there, on the altar, see it? Sometimes, when I want to feel close to Mama, I come down here, talk to her a little. Someone's always walking in or out of the drawing room, so I can't talk to her portrait over the fireplace without someone overhearing me. Odette doesn't mind."
"So you were down here, talking to your mother?" Courtland knew he should be grabbing her, hauling her up to Eleanor's bedchamber, and then getting himself back to the business at hand, but he was so transfixed by the sight of Cassandra in the candlelight, the words she was saying to him, that he held his tongue.
"You think I'm silly. You knew her, Courtland, I never did. Lisette…Lisette told me she never knew her mama, either, but that she dreams of her, and then she seems real. I've never dreamt of my mama, not even one time. I…I wanted her to seem real. That's all."
"Oh, Jesus," Courtland swore under his breath. He'd wanted to hear what she had to say, but this was the worst possible time to sit with her, comfort her. "Your mama used to sing to you," he said, taking her hands in his. "She had a beautiful voice, just like yours. She loved you very much, would have done anything for you. She just couldn't live for you, Callie," he said, slipping into his childhood name for her.
"No. She died for me, instead. I know. And you protected me. It was all so long ago, but now it all seems so close. The island, all of it."
"This will be over soon, I promise," he told her, longing to pull her into his arms, protect her. Love her. "We're not going to have to live this way anymore, always wondering if and when the past is going to come back in an attempt to destroy us."
Cassandra took a step forward, leaned her
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