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I feel like she’s taking notes. “No. At least not in many years. I apologize if I’ve frightened you. Perhaps we should start our tour in the garden. The fresh air might be just the thing.”
“If you want.” Her voice is slow and cautious, but she walks with me past the curved staircases, down the hall, and into the back garden.
It’s a bit of a wild garden with flowers and plants growing around the winding paths. Butterflies and bees flit about in the late-morning sunshine, enjoying their pollinating.
Walking ahead, she smells flowers and skims a hand over grasses. “This is lovely. Do you have a gardener?”
“My brother enjoys tending the property.” I can’t pull my gaze away. She’s like a wood nymph looking rapturous about a few flowers.
“These brothers you mention, are they the other names on the list?” Always the reporter, she doesn’t miss the opportunity to pry.
I nod. “They are not brothers by blood, but my brothers nonetheless.”
“And which one is the gardener?”
“Silas knows everything about this garden.” I would take up digging in the dirt if it would make her look at me the way she gazes at the flowers.
“Where are they?”
“Who?” I know who she means, but why make things easier? I want to find ways to keep her in my company, not tell her a story so she’ll leave. I should make her leave, but I can’t bear to do it.
Hand on one hip that she’s jutted out, she cocks her head. “Don’t play games, Oliver. It’s beneath you.”
“You don’t know me well enough to say so. However…” I hold up a hand, so she doesn’t argue. “Four of my brothers are at our cabin in the mountains. Declan is in New Jersey.”
“How did you come to live here?” With a smile that melts my heart, she leans over to smell a pale-pink rose.
I wish she wanted to know me and not just get a story. I suppose I should be happy the mention of vampires and monsters didn’t run her off. “Wentworth brought me here when I was six. He brought us all here to keep us safe and teach us how to survive.”
“Why did he think you needed to learn here?” Sympathy softens her voice and expression.
Stalking closer, I offer my arm again. This time I prepare myself for her touch and how it affects me. I manage not to growl.
“Wentworth thought he could be a father to us. He made us a family. None of us had had that, and we were eager to find something permanent.” I thought the house was a castle when I first arrived.
“I thought you were already safe in an orphanage.” She kicks a pebble on the path with the tip of her white sneakers.
“It would never have been safe for me or anyone had I stayed there. My nature demanded I have a teacher strong enough. Wentworth saved our lives.”
“Where are your parents?” Her voice is tight.
We take the stone steps that lead down to a wide lawn, and farther, to the creek. “I don’t know anything about my parents, Britta. We should return. I can see you’re warm.”
Sweat runs down the side of her face near her hair. “Thank you. Why don’t you look hot?”
I shrug. “I’m not as sensitive to temperature.”
She lets that pass without more questions, for which I’m grateful. I take her through the ballroom and another parlor when we reach the French doors. I give her details about the number of crystals per chandelier and how much they cost. “We have a ball at Christmas for the town. Wentworth insisted on bringing the neighborhood in at least once a year.”
“Does he still live here?” She runs her finger over the gold wainscoting that wraps the ballroom.
“No. He left three years ago, and we haven’t heard from him.” My heart pounds once. I change the subject and answer her other question in the dining room. “The ladies in town loved him, and I would be willing to bet he loved them too. I think he had quite a few affairs. Though, he never said.”
“A gentleman?” Her cheeks are bright pink.
We arrive in the foyer. “He is, in his way. I suppose the same could be said about me.”
She won’t meet my gaze, which I don’t like. “What’s in there?” She points to the closed doors.
