his hands on the mantel, Nicholas stared into the flames of the small fireplace that warmed his run-down cottage as he recalled that night in detail. A line from the prayer his grandfather had recited to him every single night of his childhood had echoed through him before he’d taken that suicidal plunge into the ocean.
I pray the hollows my soul to keep.
As a child Nicholas had often giggled at his grandfather’s parody of the well-known prayer.
Now I lay me down to sleep.
I pray the hollows my soul to keep.
If I should die before I wake…
He couldn’t remember the final line, but every instinct told Nicholas that there was more to the old bedtime rhyme than he’d initially thought. Since his return to Raven’s Cliff his instincts had prodded him to look to the past for answers to the present’s troubles.
Despite the relief the villagers felt at having overcome the trials involving terrorists and a couple of lunatics with visions of grandeur, there would be more suffering to come. The troubles would not stop until Nicholas had done his part.
He must restore the lighthouse and the precious lantern it housed. It was the only way to lift the curse and ensure a safe and prosperous future for the village.
Not an easy task when he could not reclaim his home.
A pounding at the front door jerked him from the disturbing thoughts.
Tension rippled within his muscles. Who would dare to show up at his door at this time of night? No one came near the dilapidated cottage even in the light of day.
The few residents who had gotten a glimpse of him called him the beast. No one wanted to cross his path, much less pay a visit to his home.
Had Chief Swanson come with news of her?
A shiver of uncertainty trembled in Nicholas’s limbs. She was far better off without him. Just as he had done to all those who had ever cared about him, he had damaged her life more than enough as it was. And still, great diligence was required to keep his thoughts away from her.
Camille Wells.
The woman he had once loved with all his heart. At least with all the heart he had possessed. The fact that she knew he was still alive had been an accident.
Just another grave mistake in a life filled with far too many repeat blunders. One stormy night almost one year ago Nicholas had come upon her below the cliffs…in that same place where they had last made love. He’d tried to hide but she’d seen him in the shadows. Once the initial shock had passed, they had argued fiercely. The heated fury had evolved into another kind of fire. They’d ended up making love right there in the sand as they had more than four years prior.
His traitorous body relished those forbidden memories.
Another round of frantic pounding echoed through his ramshackle home.
His brow furrowed with annoyance and no small amount of uncertainty. It was too late for Martha, his housekeeper, to have returned for any reason. Nicholas glanced at the clock. Half past eleven. She would be in bed by now.
It had to be Swanson.
And if it was, the news couldn’t be good.
Had more evil struck?
Fear knotted in Nicholas’s gut. Surely Camille’s condition had not taken a turn for the worse. Two weeks ago she had regained consciousness and he had not returned to the hospital.
The night they had made love he had urged her to consider him dead as she had for more than four years. Her life would only be devastated further with him in it. She had let him know in no uncertain terms that she would be happy to do so. She wanted nothing to do with him.
Perhaps it had been the glimpse she’d gotten of him in the moonlight after they’d made love so savagely in the sand.
He’d seen the look of horror on her beautiful face. She’d tried to hide it, but failed. Not that he could blame her.
He was a beast.
And for a while he had hoped she intended to move on with her life. Then she’d disappeared… and he’d blamed himself. One stolen moment with him had brought misfortune to her once more.
More banging on the door.
His visitor was not going away. He turned to the door. “Go away!” he commanded. If it was anyone but the chief, that should be sufficient cause to send them running.
“Nicholas!”
The fear that had twisted his gut now morphed into outright terror.
It was her.
Camille.
Before he could stop the automatic reaction he was at the door, preparing to open it.
When had she been released from the hospital?
What was she doing here?
Though the immediate dangers to Raven’s Cliff and all who resided there had passed, evil still lurked close by. Nicholas could feel it deep in his bones.
The curse.
Nothing would stop it…except the full restoration of the lighthouse and its precious lantern.
And only he could make that happen.
“Nicholas, I will not go away!” Camille’s voice reverberated through the closed door. “Let me in! Please.”
The last word trembled from her.
Something was wrong.
Unable to ignore her urgent plea, he slid back the dead bolt and opened the door.
His heart stumbled at the sight of her. He’d forgotten it was raining outside. A violent storm had come and gone, leaving in its wake a persistent and cleansing rain. Camille stood on his stoop, her clothes soaked and clinging to her shivering body. For one moment his gaze was lost to her beauty. The wet clothing formed to her skin, accenting the curves his hands, even now, longed to caress. Fool.
“I need your help,” she pleaded.
His eyes met hers, and the fear there launched a new terror inside him.
“Come inside.” He stood back, opened the door wider.
She stepped over the threshold, her arms hugged tightly around herself.
That treacherous uncertainty plagued him even as he knew what he should do. “I’ll get you a blanket.”
She started to argue but he turned his back and walked away. In the hall, he rummaged in the linen closet for a towel and a blanket. His housekeeper’s work was reliable. Despite the cottage’s run-down condition she worked diligently to maintain a certain level of cleanliness and orderliness.
Nicholas
