“That I was?” she asked, laughing because she was surprised at his sudden seriousness.
He reached under their small breakfast table and put his hand just above her knee. He squeezed.
“You are special to me. Don’t make light of it.”
Alice opened her mouth to reply, but the blaze of heat in his eyes left her tongue-tied. His phone started to ring. He held her stare, his expression hard, while he took it from his pocket. He glanced at the number and frowned. “Would you mind if I took this?” he asked her. “I wouldn’t if it weren’t important.”
“No problem,” Alice assured. “I’ll just take our plates in and you can have privacy out here.”
“Thanks,” Dylan said, hitting a button on his phone.
Inside, Alice chatted with Marie as she helped her put their dishes in the washer. She thought of that intense moment with Dylan just now. He’d been irritated by her flippancy in regard to his feelings for her. He’d been telling her loud and clear that she might minimize her feelings because she was scared, but she’d better not do the same for his.
“How long have you worked here?” she asked Marie.
“Ever since Dylan came to live, six years ago,” Marie replied, handing Alice the last plate. Alice put the plate in and closed the dishwasher, wiping off her hands with a towel. “I see you’re used to working for yourself instead of being waited on,” Marie observed as she transferred the omelet skillet to the sink. “Another good thing about you.”
Alice grinned and leaned against the counter. “What was the first thing?”
Marie nodded pointedly through the window over the sink. Outside it, she caught a glimpse of Dylan pacing distractedly while he spoke on the phone.
“You made him smile,” Marie said.
Alice flushed with pleasure at the brisk, potent compliment. She glanced around the kitchen. Despite its luxury and expensive appliances, the room was stamped with Marie’s character: warm and comfortable yet spotlessly clean and utilitarian. This room belonged to Marie, and there was no doubt about it.
“Where is the gong?” Alice asked impulsively, searching the countertops.
“Gong?” Marie repeated blankly as she rinsed out the skillet.
“The one you use to get the caterers’ and servers’ attention? Dylan told me how you found it here in the house. He said it was an antique. It sounded interesting. I was hoping to see it,” Alice explained, remembering how she’d heard the clear, sweet, mysterious sound on that first night she’d entered the castle.
“You’ll have to ask Dylan, honey, because I haven’t got any idea what you’re talking about. Maybe he keeps this gong in his den or something. Do you want another muffin before I put them away?” Marie asked, picking up the muffin tin.
“Uh … no, but thank you. They were delicious. Everything was,” Alice said distractedly, her brows knitted as she stared out the back window at Dylan. A chill went through her. Why had he told her that story about the gong? It didn’t make any sense.
Just like so much else doesn’t.
“Will you let Dylan know I went upstairs to make a phone call?”
“You got it,” Marie said.
She flew up the back stairs, her heart starting to race. She didn’t have much time. Dylan might finish his call any second, although he did look quite intent from what she’d glimpsed through the window just now. The back stairs led to a place that was farther down the hallway than the main staircase. When Alice emerged, she was only fifteen feet away from that branch of the hallway where Dylan had found her that strange night …
From that portion of the hallway where she’d seen that phantom figure.
A few seconds later, she stood in front of the carved wood door, her breath coming in erratic puffs. The soft roar in her ears grew louder, becoming a rushing wind.
Don’t just stand here, stupid. There isn’t much time. Do it.
In one swift, desperate motion, she twisted the knob and threw open the door. She blinked. Bright sunlight flooded out into the dim hallway, bathing her face and bare arms and legs.
Her lungs burning, she stepped across the threshold.
“THERE you are,” Dylan said when he saw Alice standing at the window in his bedroom suite. She had the blind up and the curtains open, and her back was to him. “Sorry about taking so long. Did you already make your call to Maggie?”
He paused in the process of walking across the room toward her. She stood stock-still. It was like he hadn’t spoken at all. Sunlight flooded around her. He had the random, distracted thought that the sunlight illuminated the golden-reddish roots of her hair, giving the impression of a corona around her head.
“Alice?”