Page 32 of Beloved Beast

Luke paced back and forth in the parlor. Gillian had been gone far too long. What caused the delay? This mad plan could fall apart at any time. He should have insisted they go to a safe house far from London and Charlwood. But a part of him wished to banish the past once and for all, and coming here would be a good way to accomplish it. Now he wondered if he made the right decision. Sitting in the Parkers’ parlor pouring over Reed’s notes while past memories, good and bad, swirled about him and affected him deeply had him questioning his own common sense.

Beyond all that, the quiet village was a good location. Close to Brighton. Fred did tell him when they were alone in the office they often used a local fisherman for transport to Liverpool where Gillian would no doubt catch a steamer across the Atlantic to Halifax, Nova Scotia, on the east coast of Canada.

“Why not drive to Liverpool right now and find a place to stay until the arrangements are made? Or what of a cross-Atlantic flight?” Luke had asked.

Fred had shaken his head at the suggestions. “As far as Liverpool, there are many eyes on the ports. Better to take her in by boat. It’s the way we found works best. Flights? The Yankee Clipper? Too many obstacles. Besides, the flights are sporadic and not dependable due to the war and originate out of Lisbon. Also, the Nazis keep a close surveillance, as do Franco’s spies and Portuguese Intelligence. Few civilians can obtain a seat on one of these planes. Again, doesn’t fit in with our plans or our existing network.” Fred rubbed his chin. “But mark my words, as soon as the war is over, air travel will flourish.”

Luke was inclined to agree. In fact, he made a mental note to look into any aviation companies starting up and invest in them. In 1903 he recalled reading of the Wright Brothers from America making their first flight. Yes, it could well become a huge opportunity.

But back to the matter at hand.

Why did he go along with the Charlwood plan? Could this be the reason he proposed the affair with Gillian? For what would banish the past more swiftly than making love to a woman in the place he was reanimated? And fell in love with Glenna? Everything was jumbled up—his emotions, his thoughts—and regardless of it, he had to keep a clear head to see to Gillian’s safety and transport.

Last night exceeded his expectations. After Glenna died, he wondered if all of his experiences with women would be as intense. But once he finally decided to test the theory out some years later, he found the encounters as empty and meaningless as he did in his previous debauched life as Ravenswood.

Yet, Gillian stirred his soul. She made his heart beat again with life and purpose. He didn’t expect to have such a reaction. Yes, he experienced warmth when he touched her, but never believed it to be a sort of “bond” until he read in the notebook of Reed’s hypothesis. Now it concerned him. Was there more going on between them than a physical attraction? They’d only known each other a few days. But that is all it took with Glenna, his inner voice insisted.

A soft knock at the door pulled him from his troubled thoughts. Two slow knocks and three short ones, their signal. Luke unlocked the door and leaned against the wall. Gillian slipped in, and he closed the door and locked it. She handed him the basket. Immediately he sensed a change in her. Her heart beat at a fast rate, as if she were agitated or frightened. “Did something happen? You were gone longer than expected.”

She met his gaze, her breath coming in short puffs. “No, I’m merely tired. Not used to such a trek through slushy mud and snow carrying a heavy basket.”

Made perfect sense, the basket would be heavy, but for an unknown reason he had the distinct feeling she kept something from him. Concentrating, he focused on her. Yes, something was definitely amiss, but he decided to accept her explanation of fatigue. Perhaps he was becoming far too smitten with her. Not wise under the circumstances.

Gillian followed him to the kitchen. “The shopkeeper was a formidable woman who I had to wheel and deal with. That’s what took so long. But we reached an agreement and a price. I am now part of their pig club.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Pig club?”

As she unloaded the basket, she explained about the club and the food arrangements. Luke assisted by placing the items in the cupboards and the small icebox. “I made it clear I was not to be disturbed while I was here.”

“Good girl. We will have to make sure the scraps reflect one person lives here.”

She held up a newspaper. “Today’s edition of the Daily Express. I want to see if what happened at Bethnal Green made the papers.”

He shook his head. “I assure you it will not be there. Take a seat in the parlor. I’ll bring in tea. The fire is going, should take the chill off.”

“Oh, I’d love two of those rolls with butter and preserves, too.” She gave him a teasing smile and his heart skipped a beat. Perhaps he imagined her initial reaction when she first stepped into the house. He concentrated and focused on her once again; her heart rate was still elevated. She tucked the paper under her arm and exited the kitchen. His instinct told him she lied, but her explanation also made sense. Luke wasn’t sure what to think.

Once he had the tray prepared, he carried it into the parlor. He found her curled up in the wingchair, her stocking feet tucked under her, flipping through the paper. “Not one bloody word about the incident. You’re right, they covered it up. Miserable bastards.” Gillian tossed the paper aside in frustration. Her show of temper appealed to him, but then everything about her caught his complete attention.

Frowning, she leaned forward, buttered a roll, and then slathered preserves on it, shoving nearly half of it in her mouth in anger. It was hard to tell if her rapidly beating heart was from her annoyance or the fact she was keeping things from him. He sipped his tea, watching her closely over the rim of the cup. Something happened. He was sure of it. How to broach the subject? Instead, he decided to change the topic. “I thought after tea we would take a tour of the house. The cellar, the tunnels…”

She blinked rapidly at him. “There is a cellar and tunnels? What did Mr. Parker’s father do for a living?”

Sitting back, he crossed his legs. “Nothing. He inherited a small fortune which left him time to indulge in his…hobbies.” Luke nearly said “obsessions” but decided to stay as vague as possible. “He was fascinated with science.” A flash of memory entered his conscious. Luke awaking to find himself on a slab covered in canvas with no memory. An electric generator and wires. Reed looking at him as if he were an abomination. Glenna smiling warmly. Luke pushed the recollections from his mind.

Gillian smiled as she tore another piece of bun off with her perfect teeth and swallowed. “He had a laboratory below the house? Is it still there?”

“I highly doubt it. Once he married and Fred was born, I think he gave up the pursuit for the most part.”

She nibbled on the last bit of her roll. “Science is fascinating. I wish I had more of an understanding of it. There is much to explore and a good deal of it unexplainable.”

“You have no idea,” he murmured.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He gave her a sultry smile. “You know, instead of the tour, we can head up to bed. I saw you made it. It was not necessary, as I am sure the blankets and sheets will wind up on the floor at some point.”

“You are insatiable.” She winked teasingly.