“Indeed,” Ellie agreed with a pang of unease.
“Seems a bit much for a golf course,” Constance complained.“Who are they trying to keep out?”
The tang of salt and a soft rush of waves mingled with the scent of flowers in the air as the club came into view.The sprawling two-story building was set on the edge of the sand, framed by flowering trees and soaring palms.It had been built in English style with painted shutters and striped awnings.A columned portico sheltered the entrance, lit by flickering gas lamps.Manicured gardens sprawled to either side, while morning glory vines tumbled over the ornamental boulders that distinguished an island in the middle of the circular drive.A pair of enormous stone lions flanked the stairs to the front door.
“It looks nice enough,” Constance mused.
The club did look nice.So why did the sight of it fill Ellie with an odd sense of foreboding?
Clouds continued to gather overhead, and a soft gust of rain-scented wind danced over her skin.
The horse huffed out a frustrated breath as the tonga rattled to a stop.A uniformed footman came forward to help them down.Constance stepped daintily onto the carpet in a spill of golden silk and black lace.Ellie followed after her, wishing she wore boots instead of slippers.
Adam joined them.Even in dinner dress, he carried himself like a man who ought to have an eighteen-inch knife strapped to his belt.
Ellie’s nerves wrenched.Had Constance been right?Was a fake marriage really the solution to her and Adam’s dilemma?And what would Adam even think of such a suggestion?
Ellie studied his face as though she could read the answers there.His expression was uncharacteristically grim as he faced the elegantly illuminated building.
“What’s wrong?”she pressed, keeping her voice low.
“Reminds me of somewhere I’ve been before,” Adam commented quietly.
“In British Honduras?”
“In America,” Adam returned shortly.
“Is that a good thing?”
His eyes darkened with worry.“Not really.”
Neil tugged his waistcoat into place as he came to Ellie’s other side, shoulders straight under his formal attire.Her brother had always cleaned up well.
Ellie found herself assessing how Constance reacted to his appearance.
Constance wasn’t looking at Neil at all.Her eyes were on the gable at the far end of the clubhouse.“Look at all those birds by the roof!”
Dark, flickering shapes swarmed the eaves.The sight triggered an instinctive jolt of discomfort—along with chilling memories of ear-splitting shrieks in the gloom and the scrape of talons against stone.
“Those aren’t birds,” Ellie said carefully.“They’re bats.”
Constance frowned as she squinted into the growing twilight.“They must be roosting in the attic.”
“Which would be a perfectly ordinary thing for perfectly ordinary bats to do,” Ellie reminded herself aloud under her breath.
“Doesn’t mean there aren’t monsters here,” Adam warned, slipping a hand under her arm.
An Englishman in a brass-buttoned uniform descended the stairs, greeting them with the sort of upper-class accent that only came through rigorous practice.“Good evening and welcome to Puri Beach.I am Mr.Sykes, the club majordomo.Whom do I have the honor of greeting?”
Neil stepped forward, managing to disguise his nerves under an air of casual authority.“Dr.Neil Fairfax.I believe my solicitor called ahead to make arrangements for us?”
Ellie saw the majordomo give a well-schooled blink of surprise at Neil’s words.Her brother was cursed with looking a bit young for his age—but Sykes recovered quickly.
“Indeed, Dr.Fairfax,” he returned smoothly.“If you’ll accompany me to the secretary’s office so that we might sign you in?”
“Jolly good.”Neil flexed his hand as though actively resisting the urge to tug nervously at his bow tie.
The majordomo’s gaze flickered over the rest of them, skimming easily past Ellie and Adam—then hitched on Constance as she peeked into her reticule.
