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“Hello?”
“What the hell do you want?” wasn’t exactly the response she’d expected, but it was clear and to the point.
“My name is Antonia Stonewright. I’d like to talk to you about selling your work in my gallery.” That should work. She’d never met an artist who didn’t want to make a bit more money.
“My agent’s Robbie Peterson. Contact him!”
Damn mortals! She watched him bend over as his strong arms and broad shoulders eased trays of unfired pots into the open kiln. “I certainly will, but I would like to see some of your work first.”
He looked up, straightening as he turned toward her.
Something inside her did a little skip.
Unbidden, her tongue slowly licked her upper lip as the gums around her fangs tingled.
ROSEMARY
LAUREY
Keep Me Forever
ZEBRA BOOKS
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 1
“This is it!” Antonia Stonewright announced, opening the wide front door. “What do you think?”
Elizabeth Connor looked around the beautifully proportioned hall; the wide, curved staircase with its shallow, broad steps; and the airy drawing room just visible through the half-open door to her right. “It’s absolutely lovely. No wonder Dixie hated to leave.”
“Part of me thinks it a shame to use it for base moneymaking activities, but heck, we’ve tried for a year to rent it out with no luck. Seems the locals consider it tainted.”
“That oily estate agent said as much.”
Antonia creased her high forehead. She’d been as unimpressed with Mike Jenkins as Elizabeth had. “Nasty little snirp, wasn’t he? Mind you, he was helpful—dealing with painters and electricians and so forth. No doubt made a little on the side, but it’s done.” She walked across the polished floor and opened wide the double doors into the drawing room. “This is going to be one of the main sales rooms.”
The only furniture was the built-in corner cabinets. “When are the tables and other stuff coming?”
“In the next couple of weeks. Sooner, if we’re lucky. We’ve still got the outside work to do. Dismantling some old buildings and removing an air raid shelter left over from the Second World War and expanding the stables to make the tearoom.”
“And when will that get done?”
“Right away, now that I’m here.”
Elizabeth didn’t doubt it. Vampires had a way of getting what they wanted. “Want to unload the computers and so forth?”
“Might as well. We don’t have an audience, so we can work at our own speed. We can set up our office in the breakfast room.”
Elizabeth threw open the back doors of the van. It was packed to the roof with desks, computers, a printer, and filing cabinet, everything Antonia deemed necessary to set up a temporary office. “We should have taken sleazy Jenkins up on his offer to come out to the house with us. He could have helped heave this little lot. He did offer to help whenever we needed, didn’t he?” Elizabeth couldn’t resist a grin. The man had fairly oozed at them. “We could call him over. He’d make dinner for you.”
“Spare me! I’m particular where I put my fangs.”
Antonia was particular about everything, including the exact positioning of desks to avoid direct sunlight from the French windows. And she was not happy that the promised phone line was not connected. “Make that the first priority in the morning,” she told Elizabeth. “That and internet connection. I’m getting this show on the road if I have to throw glamors over half the population.”
They had everything set up in time that would have left mortals blinking. Antonia surveyed the room with grudging satisfaction. “At least it looks as if we mean business. I’ll drop you at the car hire place, and we can meet back at the hotel.”
“Let me see the attics Dixie mentioned first.” Antonia obviously didn’t like the idea. Too bad! It hadn’t been that long since the entire vamp colony had been very happy to have a witch on their side.
Antonia followed her into the kitchen and up the narrow staircase, concealed behind a door. At first sight they were in two attics with pitched ceilings and tiny windows overlooking the garden, but…Elizabeth looked around. The shelves were bare, but in the middle of the floor sat three packing cases addressed to her. She pulled one open, delved in the shredded packing, and pulled out a jar with spidery, dark handwriting on a yellow label. She was actually looking at mandrake root. Bless Dixie! She had it all packed up as promised. Elizabeth pulled out half a dozen jars—some almost empty; others containing shriveled contents, ground powders, desiccated leaves or petals—before realizing Antonia was watching with a wry expression. “I’ve never before had a chance to actually go through an old-time herbalist’s storeroom.”
“Don’t forget the lot you inherited this from were more than little old lady herbalists.”
“I know, but not all of this is harmful. Look, this is arnica. Used to heal bruises and aches.” She set the jar on the table and smiled at Antonia. “You’ll be telling me next that
