In even smaller print at the very bottom of the metal tag was the name of a shop: Dowling Curiosities, Charleston.
Given the age of the stereoscope and how long it had likely been stored in the basement, I hadn’t much hope that the shop would still be in business. To my surprise, however, a Google search yielded a King Street address. I’d undoubtedly passed it any number of times while strolling through the historic district. I diligently noted the information in my phone so that I could look for the place on my next walk.
For the rest of the afternoon, I remained at my desk, alternately working on bids and studying the stereogram until hunger pains disrupted my concentration. Since Devlin would be spending the evening with his grandfather, I decided to walk down the street to a little place on Rutledge for an early dinner. To my surprise, however, he was sitting on the front porch waiting for me when I arrived home a little while later. As I approached the steps, a light breeze trailed a trace of his cologne, a dark, spicy scent with hints of warm vanilla and a dangerous note of absinthe. Sultry, seductive and a bit decadent for the daylight hours, but that was Devlin.
The late-afternoon sunlight filtering down through the trees blinded me for a moment so that he became nothing more than a dark form imprinted upon my retinas. It almost seemed as if another shape hovered over him, but then I blinked and, like the mysterious stereogram, the two images merged into one.
“I thought you were having dinner with your grandfather tonight,” I said in surprise.
“I am. But I happened to be passing by your house and I had the urge to see you before I head out.” He paused to stare down at me for the longest moment. “Are you all right? You were scowling just now as you came through the garden.”
“Was I? The sun was in my eyes.” I sidestepped out of the glare and as my vision adjusted, I was struck yet again by his devastating good looks. Despite the heat, he appeared as fresh as the proverbial daisy, his cotton shirt crisp, the line of his tailored pants still neatly creased. As I climbed the stairs, it occurred to me that I’d never sufficiently appreciated a well-fitting trouser until I met Devlin.
When I got to the top step, he bent to kiss me. Normally, I would have gone willingly into his arms, drawn by that delectable scent and his innate allure, but I found myself strangely reticent, holding back my desire as I tried to resurrect defenses that had tumbled upon our first meeting.
More and more I was coming to understand Papa’s withdrawal. Retreating behind the wall of his own troubled thoughts had been the only way he knew to protect himself and those around him from the ghosts.
Devlin searched my face. “I don’t think it was the sun. Something’s wrong. I can see it in your eyes.”
“I’m just tired.”
“Because you’re not sleeping.” He trailed his knuckles along my jawline. “I wish Rupert Shaw had never talked you into going back to Oak Grove. You’ve been having nightmares ever since you agreed to finish the restoration.”
“It’s a very dark cemetery,” I said. “A troubled place even before the murders.”
His gaze deepened. “But it is just a place. What happened there was human evil, not supernatural. You do know that, right?”
He wasn’t entirely correct, but I could hardly argue the point. “Not all my feelings about Oak Grove are negative. We met because of that cemetery. I certainly don’t regret that. Although I’d like to think that our paths would have crossed regardless.”
His eyes softened and some of the strain between us melted. “Such a romantic notion from someone usually so serious.”
“The two aren’t mutually exclusive, you know.”
“In you, they’re not. I’ve never known anyone so full of contradictions. You’re a very complicated woman, which is only one of the many reasons I find you so fascinating.”
“You find me fascinating?” I asked without guile.
“Have I not made that clear?” He cupped the back of my neck as he gazed into my eyes. “Endlessly fascinating.”
I felt my knees go weak at the dark glint in his eyes, at the provocative edge in his drawl. Then foolishly I wondered if he’d once thought the same of Mariama, and I glanced away.
He took my chin and brought my face back to his. “Hey. What’s that look?”
“Sometimes I’m still surprised by us,” I admitted. “You and me. That we’re together.”
“Why?”
“We’re so different. We come from different places.”
“Maybe that’s why we work. Our differences keep things interesting,” he said lightly, but his expression sobered. He tucked back a strand of hair that had escaped from my ponytail. “I hate seeing you like this. So exhausted and distracted. Nothing’s going to happen if you fall asleep, you know. I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe.”
“I know that. Just as I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe. But some things are beyond our control. Even you have no sway over my nightmares.”