Page 54 of The Dearly Departed

Because a storm was approaching—I could sense it—and I wished I had a cigarette.

“So …”

I turned from the view of the garden to watch as Analise approached from the French doors. She had laid a shawl over her slender shoulders, its lengths draped and spiraled around her long arms. Her hair was now swept up into a messy knot at the top of her head, accentuating her slender neck and the sparkling black diamonds she wore around her neck and in her ears.

The way she captivated my attention should be illegal. In her presence, I suddenly no longer craved the calming repetition of a cigarette. No, I wanted her. To share her space, her air, her time. To watch the movement of her lips and plummet into the depth of her deep, dark eyes. And foolishly, I wished that I’d allowed myself to feel like this toward a woman at some other point in my life, if for no other reason than to know what the hell to do about it now.

“Hmm?” I replied, keeping my hands tucked into my pockets. Afraid I wouldn’t be able to resist running my fingers over her cheek, her neck. That exposed bit of skin just above her dress’s neckline.

She looked up at me through long, inky lashes and said, “I’ve been wondering something.”

“And what might that be?”

“I’ve been in your presence all night,” she went on, turning her eyes toward the maze and stone pathways below, “and not once have you introduced yourself. Why is that?”

“It doesn’t feel necessary,” I answered truthfully, my eyes lingering on her lips.

Still not looking at me, she asked, “And why not? I mean, you know my name now. It seems only fair that I should know yours too.”

“What would be the point?” I challenged, my tone edging toward flirtation, as if I were suddenly well versed in the art. “You’re never going to see me again.”

Her head bobbed in a subtle nod. “That’s probably true. I’ve seen so many people come in and out of this house since my mother married Gerry. Well, long before then, too, but especially after.”

My heart lurched into my throat as a bit of truth wedged itself between us.

“Virginia is your mother?”

I supposed I should’ve guessed that from the way Virginia had spoken to her at dinner. But it hadn’t occurred to me, considering they looked nothing alike, and now, Analise felt further from my reach than she had been before.

In no world was there room for me to get involved with Gerald’s stepdaughter.

She nodded, crossing her arms over her chest and wrapping the shawl tighter around her form.

“How did they meet?” I asked, brushing aside the harrowing truth and now-forbidden thoughts that had been plaguing my mind all night.

“You have a lot of questions for someone who’s never seeing me again,” she teased, glancing toward me with a smirk of her full lips.

She couldn’t see me smile beneath the mask, but I smiled nonetheless. “Just making conversation.”

Analise sucked in a deep breath and shrugged one shoulder toward her ear. “Honestly, I’m not entirely sure exactly how they met, but I think it might have been through my grandfather. He had a lot of friends. You know, connections through business and whatever. My mother worked for him, and one day, she came home with Gerry. So, I just assumed …” She offered another shrug as she turned toward me, her fingers toying with the ends of her shawl.

Grandfather …

I cast my sights over the maze below. “Is this house your grandfather’s?”

“Seint Manor has been in the Seint family since it was built in the 1800s, passed down through generations of Seints,” Analise replied, reciting the words like they’d been drilled into her head since the moment she had been born, as if they answered every question I might have about the house and the surrounding land.

But it answered nothing about the people who owned it.

I itched to ask more questions. But I didn’t want her to think I was digging for information when really, all I wanted to do was collect Leonard and leave, knowing damn well I’d spend the rest of my life remembering these moments with her and wondering what would have happened if we’d met under different circumstances.

“Now, Doctor, I’ll ask you a question. How do you know Gerry?” she asked with a playful smile after too many seconds of silence. “Or am I better off not knowing that too?”

A hum rumbled from my chest as I pretended to consider answering, then replied, “There are some things I’d rather keep to myself.”

She turned to face me then as that playful smile grew wider. “Oh, so what you’re saying is, you want to keep everything to yourself.”

A genuine laugh burst from my lips. “Well, not everything, but …”