The estate had a large historic home that was beautifully built and attractively positioned on an acre of land, and surrounded by a decorative black wrought-iron fence. She knew the details, at least on paper, and she had seen several digital photos. There were six bedrooms, four full baths, a large dine-in kitchen, a full formal dining room, a formal living room/parlor, a family room with a fireplace, a back terrace and an “in-law” apartment over a detached garage where their housekeeping Wyr would stay.
As the group pulled up the driveway, Johnny pointed out that the house was also positioned well for defense, with a minimum of landscaped foliage around the bottom of the building. She pretended to listen, but mostly she was busy soaking in the sight of their own golden lights shining in welcome in the windows.
Miguel, Hugh and Andrea went into the house first while the rest of them waited, their SUV idling halfway down the drive in case they needed to pull out quickly. As soon as Miguel appeared again in the front doorway and waved an all clear, they headed in.
The interior was a blur, and so were the two Wyr who waited with expectant smiles to greet her. She was sure the whole place was perfectly, outrageously splendid, because gods forbid that the Lord of the Wyr’s mate stay anywhere else. Dragos had probably bought an entire house full of linens, housewares, antiques and crazily expensive artwork just for the duration of her stay. In fact she would bet money on it. He wouldn’t allow any Elven guests—or potential spies—to witness anything differently.
At the moment she didn’t care, and she didn’t want to know. She could scent a whole array of cooked food, including meat, which smelled good while at the same time it made her nauseated all over again.
“I appreciate everything you’ve done to get ready for our arrival,” she told the man and woman. She would ask one of the others for their names again later. “And I would enjoy a tour some other time. Right now I need to go to my room. Would you please bring a supper tray up for me?”
“Of course!” said the woman. “Please come with me.”
Pia followed her up the stairs along with Eva, while the others brought in their luggage. As soon as the woman had shown her the way, she left with a smile and the promise to return in a few minutes.
Naturally Pia had been given the master suite, and it was—as she’d known it would be—perfectly splendid, decorated with an array of her favorite colors, a large four-poster bed, two beautifully preserved antique wardrobes, a cozy sitting area around a fireplace with a hearth inlaid with hand-painted tiles and a luxuriously appointed bathroom.
Pia walked to the bathroom doorway and contemplated the toilet. Eva took one thoughtful look at her then went around the suite opening windows.
“Thanks,” she said without looking around.
“It always this bad?” The other woman sounded leery.
“No.” She stirred, inhaling the cold waft of air deeply. “Usually it’s nowhere near this bad. The trigger was smelling the meat again on an empty stomach, on top of traveling in the car all day. Now that we’re not traveling anymore, it’ll probably go away if I can manage to eat something.”
Hugh sidled into the room with her luggage and set the two suitcases in front of one of the wardrobes. She thanked both him and Eva, sent them off to their own suppers, and relished the privacy as they closed the door behind them. As soon as they were gone, she pulled out her iPhone and typed out a text.
We’re here.
Within moments, her iPhone pinged with a reply.
How are you doing?
She smiled to herself. Dragos never used abbreviated words in his texts.
Fine. Tired. That’s GOOD.
She had a brief impulse but backed away from it. He also wasn’t somebody you LOL’d at.
I’m going to eat, clean up and go to bed. You?
The same. See you soon.
All she had to do was text with him and read those simple words, and her stupid pulse started racing. Stop. Stop. Adrenaline would wake her up.
A knock sounded at the door. She said, “Yes?”
“I have your supper,” said the woman whose name she had forgotten. “Would you like me to leave it here in the hall?”
“No, that’s all right.” She walked to the door to open it. “I appreciate you bringing it up. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” The woman carried the tray in and set it on the small table by one of the two armchairs in front of the fireplace. “Did you find the TV?”
“No,” Pia said. The smells emanating from the covered dishes on the tray were good in all the right ways, and her stomach rumbled as she sniffed appreciatively. She confessed, “I’m so tired I forgot your name.”
The woman smiled at her. “It’s Fran. Shall I help you unpack, or would you rather wait until tomorrow morning?”
“Tomorrow would be great, thanks.”
Fran showed Pia the cleverly designed panel over the fireplace that hid a flat screen in a recessed area. “If you would like to set your tray outside your door when you’re through, I can pick it up later without disturbing you again.”
“Perfect.”