Dark Journey by Anne Stuart Read Free Book Online

She wouldn't outlive the old man by long, and she would have no other heirs. All that money would end up where it belonged, with the strongest of them all. The man who could do what needed to be done.
    Jeremy Fitzpatrick.
    The storm was a mixed blessing. It cut off access to the rest of the world, and it would enable Jeremy to take his time, alter his plans, if need be. He didn't like the newcomer. Not the mirrored sunglasses or the faintly derisive smile on his mouth. Nor the interest he showed in Laura.
    But in the end, it would make no difference. Even if the storm had brought them Alex, it kept others away. They were trapped at the mountaintop compound with far fewer than their usual complement of servants and outsiders. Only Mrs. Hawkins and the nurse were there now, and both of them were too centered on the old man to notice anything unusual.
    William's unexpected rally gave him more time, but Jeremy didn't want it. He'd looked down into his stepfather's face and smiled a tender, filial smile, but he'd wanted to wrap his fingers around the old man's wattled neck and choke the life out of him.
    No, time for the Fitzpatrick family had run out. Ricky and Justine were asleep already—Ricky was drunk, Justine equally comatose from tranquilizers. Cynthia was asleep, as well, her beautiful face flushed and sated. He'd given her what she wanted, since the stranger had refused to succumb, and she'd taken it, clawing at his back, spitting at him when she peaked, her contempt and hatred complete despite her need. She thought he was weak, as well.
    It was too bad she would never discover how strong he really was.
    The carbon monoxide was already filling the cozy, airtight guest house. He was very proud of how he'd managed to jury-rig the heating system, but then, no one had ever quibbled about his brain. Just his determination.
    Laura had gone to bed, though he knew perfectly well she hadn't wanted to go. She was infatuated with the stranger, and Jeremy had briefly considered encouraging her. It would have added to the scandal in a most delicious way. Half of the Fitzpatrick dynasty dies in a freak accident while the younger daughter spends a night of passion with a stranger. The noble stepson keeps a bedside vigil, unaware of the tragedy surrounding him.
    He chuckled softly at the notion, wishing he could risk it. But he didn't dare. The doctors had always warned them that any undue strain on Laura's heart would carry her off, and that included horseback riding, square dancing and making love. Jeremy couldn't afford to have Laura die the same night as the others—it would be too coincidental. Of course, it might have the added benefit of pointing suspicion at the stranger, but Jeremy didn't want to take that risk. He'd covered his tracks extremely well, but if someone were really determined to look into things, there was no telling what might be uncovered, the bodies of the three servants who'd disappeared over the years, buried in shallow graves on the mountain-side, or the women in Colorado Springs.
    No, he would leave things as he'd originally planned. William's eleventh-hour rally wouldn't make the slightest bit of difference, either. The old man wasn't alert enough to cause problems; he would only feel the pain of loss. The notion was extremely pleasant.
    Jeremy poured himself another drink, exactly two ounces of single malt whiskey. He knew to a quarter of an ounce the amount of alcohol he allowed himself. He watched his fat and salt intake, he never smoked, and he allowed himself to kill only when he'd planned every detail. Mistakes were made in the heat of passion, and he never allowed himself passion.
    He walked back into his stepfather's bedroom. The nurse was dozing in the corner, refusing to leave her post, despite William's improved condition. All well and good, he thought to himself. She would provide the perfect alibi. In the servants' quarters behind the kitchen, Mrs. Hawkins, who'd always tried to mother him,