to the second-floor room that had been prepared for the visiting writer. He demonstrated how to turn on the heat in the bedroom and acquainted her with the idiosyncrasies of the bathroom’s ancient plumbing, then he departed. A few minutes later her luggage was delivered.
Taylor took in her surroundings. The four-poster bed dominated the well-appointed room. The furnishings were obviously antiques and looked very elegant, but not particularly comfortable. She undressed, then slipped into the large football jersey she had commandeered from her ex-fiancé a few years ago. Even though the room had been cleaned, a stuffiness clung to everything, attesting to the fact that it had not been occupied for quite some time. She opened one of the windows just enough to let in some fresh air, climbed into bed and turned off the lamp on the nightstand.
Sleep, however, eluded her. Overly tired—that was her explanation. Perhaps reading for a little while would help her fall asleep. She turned on the lamp and picked up the book she had started on the plane. She read only a couple of pages before her exhaustion won out and she succumbed to sleep.
IT WAS WELL PAST MIDNIGHT when the shadowy figure moved silently down the hallway, then entered a linen closet on the second floor of the old wing. He moved a cupboard aside, then slid back a small panel and peered into the adjoining room. The soft light from the reading lamp fell across the woman’s face. Three large pillows propped up her back. A book rested in her lap. She appeared to have fallen asleep while reading.
Without even a whisper of sound, the secret door that led from the hall linen closet into the clothes closet in her bedroom swung open. The centuries-old house was filled with hidden doors and secret passages, and he knew all of them.
He stood inside the closet and watched her from behind the hanging clothes. Her long, dark lashes rested against her upper cheek. The gentle rise and fall of her breasts told him she was sleeping. She was his. She always had been and always would be…till death do them part.
He had time. It was still two weeks until the festival. It would be just as it should have been a century ago. It had been his intention that they should pledge their love to each other the night before the beginning of the festival, even though a couple of months earlier her husband had grown suspicious of his attentions toward her. But this would be different. This time there would not be any interference.
He stepped out of the closet and silently crossed the room, coming to a halt next to the bed. He reached out his hand and lightly touched her hair. What had she done to her hair? Where were the glossy raven tresses that had so captured his attention, the beautiful raven tresses that fell to her shoulders? Had his memory played tricks on him? He reached out his hand to touch her hair again just as she began to stir. He quickly withdrew as a soft moan escaped her throat and her hand moved toward her hair.
TAYLOR JERKED BOLT UPRIGHT in bed, her eyes wide open. Her heart pounded in her chest. She couldn’t catch her breath. The acrid taste of adrenaline filled her mouth. She quickly glanced around, but nothing looked out of place. She was sure someone had been in the room with her. She had sensed it, felt a menacing presence that had frightened her out of her sleep. It must have been a bad dream, yet it all seemed so real.
She desperately needed some sort of rational explanation. She finally attributed the experience to exhaustion, trying to convince herself she had been overly susceptible to suggestion fueled by the ominous atmosphere of the centuries-old house and the lifetime of Sedgwick family history that surrounded her. She slid out of bed, went to the bathroom and got a drink of water.
She stopped by the large corner window on her way back to bed, pulling the drape aside to look out over the grounds. She spotted someone, a shadowy form, aimlessly wandering around the garden. She squinted in an attempt to identify the mysterious person, but to no avail.
A little tremor of anxiety moved through her body as she turned away from the window. She drew in a calming breath, held it a moment, then slowly exhaled. Her lack of sleep had caused her mind to play tricks on her. It was the only logical explanation. But still, the feeling of someone being in the room with her had seemed so real.
She decided to lock the bedroom door, but to her dismay the door turned out to have an old-type lock that required a key in order to be locked. She looked around, then grabbed a straight-backed wooden chair and propped it at an angle under the doorknob. The action made her feel a little foolish, but at that moment her instincts were screaming at her to remain alert and be very careful.
She tried to convince herself that things would make more sense in the morning after a good night’s sleep. She turned off the lamp, then changed her mind. She knew it was ridiculous, but she felt she would sleep better with the light on. She switched the lamp on, then settled into bed.
Donovan stared up through the night air at the second-floor window, watching as the light went off then came on again a moment later. The blinding headache throbbed at his temples. Dark waves of confusion clouded his mind, leaving him disoriented. When and why had he gotten out of bed, dressed and left the house? What was he doing wandering around the garden in the middle of the night? Waves of apprehension washed through his body. He squeezed his eyes shut as he rubbed his temples in an attempt to force the pain away and make some sense of what had happened.
He had been experiencing the same symptoms his father had complained of for about three months prior to his death. There were the sudden headaches followed by disorientation, confusion and memory lapses.
Then two months ago James Sedgwick had committed suicide.
Had his father suspected he was going mad and killed himself before it became complete? While he still had some conscious control over his actions? Was the same thing now happening to Donovan? Was he himself going mad? Had the curse imposed on the family by his great-grandfather’s brutal crimes finally come to fruition with the opening of the crypt?
Had he now become the recipient of the Sedgwick curse?
A cold jolt of fear assaulted his senses. It was a frightening puzzle and somehow he had to figure it out before he lost his ability to reason. And Taylor MacKenzie…something about her was so familiar. Somehow there had to be a connection, but what could it possibly be?
Donovan returned to his private living quarters in the new wing. He poured a glass of water from the carafe he kept on his nightstand, took one of the tablets the doctor had prescribed for his sudden attack of blinding headaches, then fell on top of his bed. He closed his eyes and tried to force sleep in order to ease his confusion and drive away the pain. After tossing and turning for what seemed like an eternity, he finally fell into a troubled sleep.
Dark visions and strange dreams plagued him. The malevolent countenance of his great-grandfather’s face appeared before him, then disappeared again. He caught fleeting glimpses of his father. He had a sense of a woman’s face, an image from long ago, but it never quite came into focus. The images swirled around in evil black clouds that seemed to hide something even more sinister than they revealed.
Chapter Two
“Yes? Come in,” Taylor responded to the knock at her bedroom door. She had just finished dressing and was making the bed before going downstairs for breakfast.
The door opened and a middle-aged woman entered. As soon as she saw what was happening, she rushed toward Taylor. “Oh, miss. Please don’t do that. I’ll see to your room for you. Is there anything special that you require?”
“No, nothing at all. I hope I won’t be too much of an added burden to you.” Maid service—this was certainly more than she had anticipated.
“Breakfast is being served
