Falling for the Pregnant Heiress Page 11

  There was no good choice here.

  “Get us inside.”

  He couldn’t budge the lock of the thick wooden doors with his credit card, and he raced out into the storm, hoping to find another way in. After what seemed like hours of being bombarded by wind and rain, the front door opened.

  Sabrina ducked inside, dragging her big suitcase. He grabbed his and yanked it in before he closed the door behind them.

  Windows provided very little light but what furniture Sabrina could see was draped with dust covers.

  “I don’t see any cobwebs.”

  She glanced around cautiously. “Oh, I’m sure they’re here.”

  He laughed. “You’re going to have to look at this like an adventure.” He disappeared into the darkness.

  She heard a few clicks.

  “Either the place doesn’t have electricity, or the storm has already taken out the power.”

  She shivered as he walked over to her. Stuck in a scary castle with a gorgeous, thoughtful, tempting man and no lights. No nothing, but each other.

  He grabbed the handle of her suitcase. “Come on. Let’s go upstairs and get out of these wet clothes.”

  The image that brought almost made her groan. She knew he wasn’t propositioning her but that was how her silly brain took it.

  Working to get her thoughts on track again, she said, “What if the owners were just out shopping and they come back?”

  He sent her a patient look. “Seriously. People don’t put dust covers on furniture when they go to the supermarket.” He ran his finger along the newel post at the bottom of a curved stairway. “I’d say that’s months’ worth of dust, not days or even weeks. Months. This is probably somebody’s country retreat.”

  She pulled in a shaky breath. It was dark, and she was cold and wet. She didn’t feel like meeting an irate owner, too. But what he’d said made sense. Thick dust and covers on the furniture added up to a uninhabited house.

  No, not a house. A castle.

  If she hadn’t been so cold, she might have laughed.

  She started up the stairs, using her phone to light the way. Trent added his and the entire stairway came into view. Relieved, she did laugh.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “We’re in a castle.”

  “So? We were in a castle last night.”

  “But that one was renovated. This one might actually be abandoned.”

  “Maybe because it’s haunted.”

  They reached the top of the stairs and found huge webs of dust arching from one side to the other in the second-floor hall. She winced. “No self-respecting ghost would stay in this castle.”

  “He would if this was his home hundreds of years ago and he’d died in a bloody battle to save it.”

  She groaned. “Now you’re just trying to scare me.”

  “Let’s see what’s behind door number one.”

  Because he dragged the suitcases behind him, she opened the door and turned her phone light into the bedroom. A double bed, dresser and chair were draped in dust covers.

  “Not very big.”

  She smirked. “Big enough for one of us.”

  “I think it might be smarter if we limited our messing things up to a room or two. Like one bedroom and the kitchen.”

  That brought more of those weird thoughts again. Snuggling together with the sound of the wind and rain outside their window. Kissing. Peeling off wet clothes.

  He glanced around. “Right now I’d like to put on a dry shirt, take my phone light and investigate the place.”

  Thank God he’d interrupted those thoughts. She sucked in a breath. “If we both go, you’ll have more light.”

  “Or we’ll simply run down both phone batteries. I think we need to start conserving power.”

  Her eyes widened. “What are you saying?”

  “That there’s a possibility we’ll be here more than one day. And if there’s no electricity, there’s no charging phones.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief. “I thought you were hinting we might need our phones to call for help.”

  He winced. “That, too.”

  Real fear sent shivers through her. “Oh.”

  “I could be dead wrong. But it’s always better to be safe rather than sorry.”

  Of course! He was thinking ahead not out of fear but out of caution.

  She felt ridiculous for being a ninny and blamed it on the darkness combined with the sound of the storm buffeting the castle. And the attraction that kept intruding itself into her thoughts.

  “You’re right.”

  He tossed their luggage to the bed. “I’m going to look for things like a generator or even a fireplace that works. But first I need to get out of this shirt.”

  She headed for the door, her phone lighting the way. “Okay.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Out. So you can change.”

  “Not if it means you have to use your phone. Take the dust cover off the chair or have a seat on the bed, then turn it off.”

  She sighed. “I’m just going out to the hall while you change.”

  “Why? You said yourself the house is totally dark. Besides, you’ve seen me without a shirt.”

  She had. That was what had started her confusion. Until that minute, he’d been Ziggy, her brother’s wealthy but goofy friend. Now he was a sexy, adult male Trent.

  She yanked off the dust cover, sat on the chair, then hit the button to turn off her phone and hoped it really was dark enough inside the castle that she wouldn’t see him.

  It was...but she heard him sniff loudly. “This is the shirt I changed into on the plane when we arrived in Paris. It still smells okay.”

  “At this point, I think body odor is the least of our worries.”

  “True.” A few seconds passed as he probably wrestled into the shirt, then turned his phone toward her. “All right. I’m going to investigate the house. Do you want to come along or are you okay sitting here in the dark?”

  “My clothes are wet too. I’ll change while you’re gone.”

  “Good thinking. Wish me luck. I’m hoping to find a generator.”

  After he left, she inched her way to the bed and found her suitcase. But Trent’s sat open beside it on the dusty bed. She ran her hand along the folded clothes, marveling that he was so tidy, then at the feel in the fabrics. Denim, cotton and the silk of the shirt he’d worn with his tuxedo. As soon as she touched it, she felt every blissful second of the kiss they’d shared the night before, after she’d talked to Pierre.

  She snatched her hand away. That was just stupid. Stupid. Stupid. She had never gone through a girlie phase and couldn’t believe she was starting now.

  Running her hand along clothes he’d worn, feeling things she could usually shut down, liking things about him she’d never looked for in a man before?

  Was she nuts?

  Hadn’t she talked herself out of all this the night before?

  She opened her suitcase and found the shirt she’d worn in Paris, along with a scarf to use as a shawl. The castle was old, and the darkness made it feel colder. She rummaged for something to dry her damp hair and pulled out one of the two pair of pajamas Trent’s personal shopper had sent over for her when they were in Barcelona.

  Thinking of Barcelona reminded her of dancing. Feeling young and free in the silly blue sparkly dress that she’d ended up liking. She remembered the couple dancing beside them, their sensuous kiss, remembered her guess that Trent would be a demanding kisser and got goose bumps.

  No. She wasn’t nuts. He was different. So different than Pierre. So different than most of the men she met that she was having trouble acclimating.

  Satisfied with that explanation, she ran the pajama top along the bottom of her long hair, the part that had somehow gotten m
ore rain, telling herself that her sound reasoning had her back to normal.

  Ten minutes later he returned to the bedroom and flicked on the light.

  Sabrina said, “You found a generator!”

  “Nope. Breakers were off, which goes to prove that whoever lives here, doesn’t live here full-time. Come on, let’s go explore the kitchen. I don’t expect to find much, but there might be some canned beans or soup.”

  They left the room and headed down the stairs. Though thick with dust, the corridor leading to the steps had wooden walls, painted white. Wood trim accented the high ceilings. Walnut steps, railing and newel post were brightened by white spindles in the stairway that matched the wood walls.

  “Now that we can use our chargers, I can turn my phone back on.”

  He snorted. “Seriously? Are you one of those people who can’t live without her phone?”

  She walked down the final three steps, following him when he turned right to go through the huge foyer. With the space now lit, she could see the flagstone flooring, the high ceilings and long, thin walnut table that ran almost the entire length of the wall beneath the stairway. Looking at the ornate chandelier, with light poking through its dusty crystals, she imagined that in its prime, this entryway was amazing.

  She sighed. “I like to Google things.”

  For that he paused and faced her. “Really?”

  “Sure.” She displayed her phone. “With this in my hand, I know everything or at least have access to it.”

  “You’re pretty smart without that phone.”

  Pleasure washed through her at his compliment. “I know some things.”

  He turned and began walking again. “You know a lot of things.”

  “I should. Not only did I grow up with a dad who quizzed my brothers at the dinner table, but I mentor some very smart entrepreneurs.”

  They passed through a dusty sitting room. A cover draped a long, traditional sofa. The stone fireplace across from two wing chairs desperately needed repairs. The same was true for the fireplace in the equally dusty dining room, a long space with a table that seated thirty. She counted the high backs of chairs beneath another dust cover. Rough wood floors had been prettied up with area rugs that looked to be from the nineteen hundreds. Walls had been framed out and dry-walled or plastered, creating deep borders around the windows. Dusty pillows sat in the corners, making the wide sills look like reading nooks.

  “I’ll bet this place is fabulous when it’s clean. It doesn’t even look to need much remodeling.”

  “Remodeling?”

  “I love to decorate.”

  “From the look of your condo, I’d say you’re pretty good at it. So if that’s what you like to do, how’d you decide to start a nonprofit that helps startups?”

  She laughed. “I was thumbing my nose at my dad. He didn’t see me as a businesswoman? Well, then I’d have a hand in running hundreds of businesses.”

  Stepping into an old-fashioned kitchen with wooden cabinets and a long wooden table, no island, no granite, just old-fashioned white appliances, Trent said, “That’s brilliant.”

  “Once he saw what I could do, he asked me to join the family business, but I could envision him making me a vice president then never giving me any work. I’d be a showpiece...maybe a token woman.” She shook her head. “I wouldn’t have it. Besides, I don’t bail on my friends.”

  He studied her face for a few seconds. “No. I don’t think you do.”

  She sucked in a breath, said what had been on her mind awhile, “Obviously, you don’t, either.”

  “So we have something in common?”

  “I think we have a lot in common.”

  Silence stretched between them. Gazes locked, they studied each other as if waiting for the other to say something.

  But she didn’t know what to say. They were forming a bond, or maybe a friendship. It was so much sweeter, richer, than anything she’d ever felt for a man that longing billowed from her chest to her toes. She’d give anything to be able to test this, to try it. To see what it felt like to be with someone not out of convenience or for fun...but for real.

  For real?

  Real was what her mother had...a husband with a temper and three confused kids.

  She did not want real... Did she?

  CHAPTER TEN

  SABRINA ALMOST GROANED when she realized she couldn’t answer that question with a resounding, “No.”

  Seeming oblivious to her confusion, Trent walked to the cabinets, opened two and found only dishes. “We might have to eat the plates.”

  Glad they weren’t staring in each other’s eyes anymore, Sabrina opened a cabinet door. “Or we could go a day without food.”

  He turned on the tap. “There’s water.”

  “Oh, I can shower!” She walked to a full-size door, opened it and displayed a pantry. “I see beans.”

  He laughed. “Good.”

  She walked into the closet-size room lined with shelves. “Chicken soup! I love chicken soup.”

  “Me, too. Now that we know there’s food, let’s finish our tour. I’d like to see the rest of this place.”

  “Seriously? You’re willing to risk the dust?”

  “Who cares about dust? Besides, you said you were going to shower.”

  It wasn’t like they had a lot of other things to do, and occupying themselves with exploring the castle was a lot better than talking.

  “Okay, let’s go.”

  Because they’d entered the kitchen through the left, they took the door on the right and found themselves in a butler’s pantry. Two rows of cabinets were made from the same white wood that created the stairway walls. The same walnut stain that adorned the stair rail trimmed the cabinet doors.

  “This is huge.”

  He looked around. “Everything needs to be painted.”

  She ran her finger through the dust of a countertop. “Or maybe just cleaned.”

  He opened the door at the end of the room.

  Expecting to see another sitting room, she gasped when she saw the enormous dining hall. With ceilings as tall as the ones in the entryway, the same flagstone floors and a table long enough to seat a hundred, the room was the first of the space to really feel like it belonged in a castle.

  Her voice echoed around her as she spoke. “This is fabulous.” The stone fireplace was twice the size of those in the living room and sitting room. The high ceiling boasted wood beams stained the same walnut color as the stairway rail in the entryway and the trim of the cabinets in the butler’s pantry. At least a forty-foot space sat empty beside the long table.

  “I’m guessing that space is for dancing,” Trent said. “I’ll bet they host parties here.”

  “Balls,” Sabrina said whimsically. “With women in flowing dresses and men in those ruffled shirts.”

  He laughed. “You might think you’re pragmatic, but I still say you’re a romantic.”

  She wished. Because if she were a romantic, she’d have kissed him the night before. She’d be laughing and flirting, not looking for dust so she’d have something to comment on. She’d be giving in to the longings that swept through her, acting on things she’d never believed in, when they shared a bed that night.

  Her thoughts froze. What if she wasn’t strong enough tonight to resist that pull? Would she toss away decades of common sense for a few hours of wonderful?

  She cleared her throat. “You know... Now that we have lights, maybe we could commandeer a second bedroom.”

  He looked over at her and her heart jumped to her throat. No man had ever given her that look before. His full lips had thinned. His sharp eyes held her in place.

  Okay. He clearly did not like her suggestion.

  “I’m just saying that with light and electricity we can clean up after ourselves. Maybe even wash the sheets before w
e leave.”

  His head tilted as his eyes searched hers. “Sure. That makes sense.”

  Disappointment in herself rumbled through her and she almost cursed. She was such a coward. She should have said, “Hey, I really like you. But we’re not right for each other and I think sleeping in the same bed would be just a bit too tempting.”

  That was what strong Sabrina McCallan would do. Honesty was her watchword. Not dodging things. But though Trent was probably the easiest man in the world to talk to, what she had to say wasn’t simple or easy. Any time a man had tempted her before this, it was purely physical. She couldn’t deny there was something more with Trent and if she explained it he would realize just how enticing he was to her.

  And that would make her vulnerable...the way her mom had been.

  Except Trent wasn’t like her father. He wasn’t harsh or demanding or even critical.

  He was accepting, spontaneous, kind...

  Double doors led outside, but rather than open them to the rain, Trent went to the kitchen, found some cloths and washed a space for them to peer through.

  Benches sat along a stone walk in what had probably once been a beautiful garden.

  “I’ll bet this was magnificent in its prime.”

  She peeked at him. “Makes me itch to get my hands on it and fix it up.”

  “And host a ball?”

  She blew her breath out. “I wouldn’t even have time to make a guest list, let alone remodel this place enough to invite friends, let alone host a ball.”

  She stopped, disgusted with herself. Trent wasn’t anything like her dad, and avoiding the truth with him was shameful.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, then popped them open and caught his gaze. “I don’t want to think about remodeling this place because it will never happen. Spinning fantasies is a waste of time. Since I’m rolling with the truth here, I might as well also admit I don’t want to sleep in the same bed with you because I like you.”