My Feline Protector (Middlemarch Shifters Book 6) Page 7

  She frowned, and his feline ceased the motorboat purring he’d started once Gerard held London’s hand.

  “You don’t believe me?”

  “What? Yes, I believe you are telling me the truth. Your eyes…” She blinked and regarded him closely.

  He had to force himself not to move, to focus on batting his feline into submission. The last thing he wanted was to scare her. He’d tell her once they got to know each other better, once his human mind was sure she was his mate and his feline wasn’t steering him wrong. He wanted certainty and truth between him and London. Besides, hitting on her right after someone had murdered her sister was plain tacky.

  “I must be tired. I thought…never mind. It’s been a long day.”

  Their meals arrived, delicious as normal. Gerard kept London talking and did a fair share himself as they traded personal info. She told him how her parents moved to London and conceived her there, hence her name. He described growing up in the countryside and running wild with his friends. He didn’t mention the running occurred in feline form. That would come later. They finished their meal with coffee and decadent truffles.

  “There is something else. When I was going through Jenny’s things and packing her bags, I found a letter for me and a copy of Jenny’s will. She changed it before she left London. She left me everything. Her share in our parents’ house, which is let out to tenants, her jewelry and personal effects and the contents of her bank account. There was a printout along with the letter. She has…had over a million pounds in her investment accounts. I had no idea.”

  Gerard gaped at her, his gut bucking like a bronco intent on ridding itself of a rider. “That must have come as a shock.”

  “I knew she made a good living. She designed computer programs and more recently worked on apps. In her letter, she said previously everything had gone to Royce but she wanted me to have everything if something happened to her. She told me she was sorry she hadn’t believed me when I’d told her about Royce and that she loved me.” Tears formed at her eyes. “What am I going to do with that money? I don’t need money to be happy.”

  Confusion clouded her pretty face, and Gerard wanted to give her a hug. “You’ll work it out. Did she let you know her solicitor’s name?”

  “Yes, the details are in the letter.”

  “You should contact them and let Jenny’s solicitor know of her death.”

  London nodded. “I’ll ring them tomorrow.”

  The man who had stared at them paid his bill and toddled from the café, his weight making him lumber from side to side.

  “He was strange,” London murmured.

  “I didn’t think you’d noticed him. He stared, not only at us, but at the rest of the people here.”

  “Maybe he’s a writer or an artist or something like that. We might find ourselves in a book,” London said.

  Gerard shrugged. “No matter what the explanation, he was peculiar.”

  Chapter Six

  They fought over the bill, and she ceded to Gerard once he promised her she could pay the next time. Excitement flared in her at this declaration. He seemed genuine with his interest, and if it wasn’t for her sister’s murder…

  “I’ll walk you back to the bed-and-breakfast.”

  “Thanks.” It was darker out here, even with the streetlights. Not a single star peeped through the clouds, and the sense of being watched assailed her again.

  Gerard drew her close and slipped his arm around her waist. She was grateful for the contact.

  “Someone is following us,” Gerard said in a low voice against her ear.

  London flinched, her steps stalling as she glanced behind her. She couldn’t see anything, but was conscious of the insidious itch in the middle of her shoulders.

  “Don’t look. Keep walking.”

  Gerard strolled with confidence, which bolstered her own, yet the bed-and-breakfast had never looked so welcoming. The owners left the porch light on for guests and it blazed in greeting, illuminating most of the garden path leading to the front door. She reached for the doorknob.

  “Wait.”

  She froze and turned to face him.

  “I want to kiss you good night.”

  “Oh.”

  He grinned at her reply. “I thought I might spot our Peeping Tom at the same time.”

  “Oh.”

  “Mostly, I want to kiss you.”

  She blinked at his confession, then she was in his arms, softness to his hardness, lips pressed together. Not a friendly peck. This…her mind went hazy with pleasure. Every time Gerard touched her, her body softened. Even an innocent touch of hands affected her, but this…this kiss thrilled her. He dominated her mouth, yet gave as much as he took, sending pleasure darting through her. She’d experienced nothing like it, the contact with Gerard firing each of her nerve endings. She clung, spearing her fingers through his black hair, leaving it ruffled and sexy.

  He pulled back a fraction to study her reaction, his grin a thing of beauty. “Can I do that again?”

  She nodded, thinking he meant tomorrow.

  Not tomorrow, she realized as he dipped his head. He meant now, and his bold confidence had her clinging, dazed at the fiery enjoyment that came the second his mouth touched hers. Her lips parted, and he took advantage, sliding his tongue into contact with hers. Her breasts tingled and her mind went on a journey of what if?

  Spears of the pleasure ricocheted and darted to her core. For the first time in ages, she wanted a man with every particle of her being. She craved naked skin and twined limbs. She craved privacy in a soft bed. She craved Gerard Drummond.

  And it was the wrong time.

  How could she celebrate this feeling when her sister lay dead?

  Right man. Wrong place.

  She’d sensed something amiss with Royce and tried to break off their relationship, yet he’d made her doubt her instincts and she’d backed away from her decision, delaying acting until it was too late. If that situation had taught her anything, it was to rely on her instincts. Everything she’d seen and experienced in the town of Middlemarch told her to trust these people, which meant the true murderer had escaped, free to do whatever he or she wished.

  What would Jenny say?

  London knew without a doubt Jenny would encourage her to keep living. She’d said as much in her letter.

  “Hey, English, stay with me here.” Gerard tickled her ribs, and she yelped and tried to break free. “A man’s pride could get wounded if the lady he’s kissing zones out. He might think he does wet-fish kisses, or the lady is thinking about another man. He might get a complex.”

  London snorted at the last because his green eyes glinted with humor. “I enjoy kissing you very much. I was thinking I’d like to do more.”

  His brows rose. “Like what?”

  “A bed. Lose the clothes.” She paused and worried her bottom lip.

  “Woman, something tells me your mind turned another corner. Tell me what I can do to change it back to bed and nakedness. I look excellent in my naked state.”

  London laughed. She couldn’t help it. She clapped her hand over her mouth to stop a repeat of the gurgling sound. The last thing she wanted was to attract attention from the owners of the bed-and-breakfast. “That’s…ah…good to know.”

  “I bet you look sexy too. When can I prove this to you?” His left eye closed in a sexy wink that sent blood rushing through her veins.

  “You’re distracting me.”

  “Is it working?”

  “Yes. Gerard, listen. I didn’t think of it before, but I don’t understand why Jenny brought her will with her on holiday. Why did she bring a letter addressed to me when she expected to return home? It’s not something a person takes on a holiday.”

  The humor in Gerard faded, and for a second, she wished she hadn’t broken the flirtatious spell. “They don’t.”

  “Yes, so the question is why did Jenny bring them with her? Had someone threatened her? Royce or someone else?”


  “She said nothing to you?”

  “We tried not to discuss Royce. She said she’d set things in motion to divorce him and she refused to return to him. Ever. She told me she was sorry for her behavior, for not believing me when I tried to tell her. I know he hit her, but she refused to tell me more. It wasn’t my favorite conversation either, so we concentrated on making new memories and relearning each other. She was the sister I remembered. Lighthearted and bold. Adventurous and popular with everyone.”

  “Contact the solicitor tomorrow, see what you can discover. Are there friends who might know what happened?”

  London nodded. “I’ll ring them tomorrow. They’ll want to know about Jenny. I can’t face more today.”

  Gerard drew her into a hug, the contact driving away some of her sorrow. “One day won’t change a thing.”

  “No.”

  He kissed her again, quick this time with none of the deep, drugging pleasure of their earlier embrace. He pulled away. “Would you meet me for breakfast in the morning?”

  “That sounds nice. The café?” Breakfast came in her tariff but her hosts were friendly and easygoing. They never started cooking until their guests arrived since they made something different each day.

  “Come and eat at my place,” he suggested. “We’ll take Geoffrey for his morning walk together. Not a happy camper at present. He loves Henry, but he puts up with me. He might enjoy your company better.”

  She smiled. “It’s a date.”

  “Good,” he said as she reached for the doorknob to enter the bed-and-breakfast. “We can discuss bed and nakedness more then.”

  Gerard waited until London entered the bed-and-breakfast and her footsteps receded. Someone had trailed them from the café. He hadn’t glimpsed them, but he trusted his instincts and hated the idea of someone spying on them. Something to do with London because he only sensed the presence when he was with her.

  He strode down the street and ducked into the shadows. Rapidly, he disrobed and stuffed his clothes in a fork of a branch. He called up his feline, allowing the shift to roll over him.

  Time to go hunting.

  Gerard lifted his head and dragged in the different scents, cataloging them in his mind as he worked through them, discarding some and approving of others. London. Yes, they liked her scent. He cocked his head to listen and retraced the path to the café.

  A gruff cough came from over to his right, and Gerard slinked toward the two large pine trees. It was a man, the one he’d seen in the café.

  But why would this man follow them?

  Gerard settled into a crouch, confident he’d remain unseen. The man waddled but his steps were sure and positive. There was something in his fluid motion that didn’t fit with the grizzled hair and lined face. His breathing was easy and not the hoarse, labored gasps of an overweight man.

  He didn’t feel right.

  As Gerard watched, the man pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, tapped one out and lit up. He dragged in several puffs and wandered toward a vehicle.

  Not suspicious at all. The man had stopped to enjoy a smoke.

  Once he’d climbed into his vehicle and driven off, Gerard trotted back to his clothes, shifted and dressed.

  The man still felt wrong, but he didn’t appear to be a threat to London.

  Gerard’s phone blared out its musical ring tone at two thirty in the morning. Immediately awake, his first thought was of Henry. “Yeah.”

  “It’s London,” she whispered, the words hoarse with fear.

  Her terror stripped him of the remaining dregs of sleep.

  “What’s wrong?” He slipped from the bed, clamping his phone to his ear while he struggled into his jeans.

  “Someone is trying to break into my room.”

  “Scream. Wake the Gibsons. I’ll be there in ten minutes.” Five if he didn’t meet other vehicles.

  He tore from the bedroom and grabbed his car keys. Geoffrey trotted after him.

  “Stay.”

  The Jack Russell ignored him and jumped into his SUV, scrambling over to the passenger seat, the instant Gerard opened the door.

  “Hold on,” he said to Geoffrey as he pulled from their driveway and floored the accelerator. “This is gonna be a quick trip.”

  The scrapping came on the window frame again along with a wooden squeak. Fear almost paralyzed her. It tightened her throat and her first scream emerged in a croak. The window rose, a big hand forcing it upward.

  London darted for the door, her toe connecting with the corner of the bed. She grunted and kept going, flinging open the door. When she glanced over her shoulder, a head and shoulders appeared in the gap. She screamed, her dread rippling along the passage.

  “Bitch,” a deep voice snarled.

  She didn’t recognize the voice.

  “Help!” Recalling her self-defense classes at home in Bath, she sucked in a deep breath. “Fire! Fire! Fire!”

  To her relief, lights flicked on, piercing cracks beneath doors.

  A woman in a bright pink robe—another guest—opened her door, her head a mass of rollers. “What is it?”

  Mr. Gibson, her host, hurried down the passage a fire extinguisher in hand. “Where is the fire?”

  “No fire. Intruder,” London gasped out. “Someone is trying to break into my room.”

  Mr. Gibson didn’t hesitate. He plunged into her bedroom, fire extinguisher still in hand. The light flicked on, illuminating the interior of the room.

  London swallowed her fear and followed.

  There was no one in her bedroom, but the window was half open. She hadn’t imagined a thing.

  “Stay here,” Mr. Gibson said. “I’ll check outside.”

  “Should I ring the police?” his wife asked.

  “I think they’re gone.”

  London heard a dog bark, a shout, then another bark followed by a growl.

  “London, you okay?” a familiar voice shouted.

  “Who is it?” Mr. Gibson demanded, tension giving him a rigid stance.

  “Gerard Drummond,” London said. “I called him first before I screamed for help.”

  “Anyone out there, Gerard?” Mr. Gibson asked, the rail-thin man noticeably calmer at Gerard’s appearance.

  “Geoffrey chased after someone. A man, I think. Geoffrey hasn’t come back yet.” Gerard didn’t seem worried and London relaxed.

  “Go to bed, Mrs. Chase,” Mrs. Gibson said. “There is nothing to alarm anyone.”

  “A person isn’t safe in their bed,” the guest complained but she returned to her allocated room and shut her door with a firm click.

  “I think I’ll call the police anyway,” Mrs. Gibson said.

  “Yes, that’s a good idea,” her husband said. “I’m going outside to speak with Gerard.”

  London heard barking again. There was no way she’d sleep now. Once Mr. Gibson disappeared, she pulled on warm sweats and made her way outside.

  Geoffrey barked and trotted over to her. She stooped to pat the small white-and-black dog, and he leaned into her, enjoying the attention.

  “You shouldn’t be out here,” Gerard said when he joined them.

  Geoffrey growled at him, and Gerard muttered something under his breath.

  “Did you see who it was?” Mr. Gibson asked.

  “No, but judging by his size, it was a man. He was fast on his feet. He used a crowbar to jimmy the lock.”

  Mr. Gibson sighed. “These are old window frames. I’ve been thinking of having them replaced.”

  “Why don’t you go back to bed?” Gerard suggested. “It’s cold out here.”

  London shivered, despite her warm clothes. “I won’t be able to sleep in that room.”

  Mr. Gibson frowned. “We don’t have another room for you to use.”

  “You can stay with me,” Gerard said.

  London nodded, not hesitating. “Yes, please.” Gerard made her feel safe, and he’d come at her call. “I was moving out tomorrow anyway. My bags are packed,
ready to move to the new place.”

  “You didn’t say,” Gerard said.

  “It didn’t come up.”

  “Cancel your booking and stay with me. It would put me at ease. An attempted break-in isn’t so bad by itself. I mean, it’s not good, but it happens. But combined with Jenny’s death, I don’t like it. I’d prefer to have you somewhere safe. Henry and I are security experts and not much gets past Geoffrey.”

  “I’m sorry it’s come to this,” Mr. Gibson said. “Young Gerard is right. You need to keep yourself safe. I’m sorry we couldn’t accommodate you due to other bookings, but this might be best. If the room is empty, I can get to work fixing the window.”

  London smiled at his practical attitude.

  “I’ll give you a refund for tonight, since you’re leaving early.”

  “It’s okay, Mr. Gibson. You looked after me and Jenny well.” She glanced at Gerard. “I’ll get my bags.”

  Gerard and Mr. Gibson helped her with the bags, and they were soon on their way to Gerard’s place, Geoffrey sitting on her lap. She stroked his wiry fur, taking comfort from his warmth.

  “Did you see his face?”

  “No, just an arm and shoulder. It was dark. He called me a bitch, but I didn’t know his voice.”

  “I didn’t see much either,” Gerard said. “I don’t like the coincidence. You need to ring home and find out if anyone has seen Jenny’s ex and question the solicitor regarding the will.”

  “Since I’m wide awake, I can ring when we get to your place.”

  Gerard’s house sat at the rear of a huge section. She couldn’t see much in the dark, but they turned off the main road onto a gravel driveway. One side seemed to be pasture, and she caught a glimpse of a building in progress. On the other side, the looming presence of trees cast extra gloomy shadows in front of their vehicle. Gerard pulled up in front of a house with a deck.

  “Home, sweet home,” Gerard said. “Once we finish with our work buildings we intend to do some landscaping. Henry wants a vegetable garden, and I promised I’d help.”

  London followed him into the sprawling single-level home.

  Aware of the time difference, she rang the solicitor first to inform him of Jenny’s death and to ask several questions. After researching burial and transportation procedures, she’d decided to have Jenny interred here in Middlemarch. Her sister had talked of staying because she loved the area, so London’s decision seemed right.