The Haunting of Brier Rose by Patricia Simpson Read Free Book Online Page B

country can't heal me, Rose, I
doubt a cup of tea is going to do the trick."
    "With an attitude like that, no." She walked to the
door and turned. "Good night—Mr. Wolfe."
    "Goodnight."
    She closed the door behind her while Taylor stared after her. For
household help, she had quite an attitude. What had she said, ‘ To heal yourself, you have to believe you
can be healed? ’ Who did she think she was—his personal shaman? Taylor
bit into the cookie and chewed mechanically, ignoring the delicious flavor. He
didn't need her help, and he didn't need to complicate his stay here by
allowing himself to be aroused by her. She was too young and innocent for him,
anyway. Besides, he'd seen the way she glanced at his scars, trying not to be
obvious about it. She was probably repulsed by the sight of
him .
    Taylor wasn't accustomed to women being repulsed by his looks. If
anything, he had used his outward appearance to win whatever woman he desired.
Females were drawn to his dark looks and six-foot height. He'd never thought
twice about using his physical attributes to get what he wanted. Now, however,
he would have to depend on his personality. Taylor grimaced. People had called
him a heartless bastard. Cold. Impossible. That didn't say much for his
personality. Looks like he had a huge job ahead of him if he ever expected to
date again.
    Taylor grabbed two more cookies and ate one as he limped to the
table where he had set up his wooden boat model. He would concentrate on
finishing the three-masted schooner and stay away from the redhead. And after a
week of peace and quiet here at Brierwood, perhaps he would be on the road to
recovery.

 
    Later Rose tossed and turned in her bed, dreaming of Mr. Wolfe
smashing her cookies with his cane, claiming that she had put rocks in them.
She tried to protest, but the words wouldn't come out. Then she felt a warm
hand on her shoulder and knew a slight sense of relief.
    Someone was talking to her in a low, singsong voice. Was she
still dreaming? The hand on her shoulder felt very real. Yet she couldn't quite
open her eyes, couldn't quite gain consciousness. Had Mr. Wolfe come into her
room? He had stared at her in a strange way when she had arrived with his
snack. Maybe the piratical master of the house was the type of man who would
try to take advantage of her. Somehow, she didn't think so. But if this wasn't
Mr. Wolfe in her dream, who was it?
    "Roselyn, Roselyn," a voice said near her ear. The
voice was dry, seductive, and she eased onto her back, trying to see who stood
near her bed, but she couldn't open her eyes.
    "Roselyn, you hear me, don't you, my dear?"
    She stirred, heard herself mumble an incoherent phrase.
    "Roselyn, you must tell me where your mother has hidden her
possessions."
    My mother? I don't have a
mother.
    "You did. You just don't remember."
    Maybe I don't want to
remember. My mother gave me up, sent me away. Why should I want to remember a
mother like that?
    "It's true. Your mother was not a nice lady, Roselyn. But I
believe she gave you something that belongs to me."
    I have nothing of my
parents'. Not even their name.
    "Roselyn, my beauty." He kissed her bare shoulder, and
Rose felt a warm, melting feeling spread through her. She sank farther into her
bed. "Such bitterness. You have been hurt, haven't you? You suffer."
    Yes, I suffer. But why
should you care?
    "Because I want to help you. I can give you back the family
you lost so long ago."
    She ached to know about her family, but she was afraid of the
truth, of the guilt and shame associated with being a foundling. Surely if her
mother and father had loved her, they would have kept her. So the truth was
that they had not loved her and that they had rejected her. Rose didn't want to
face that particular truth or learn the reasons for the rejection.
    "Roselyn, I can show you the family you once knew."
    No, I don't want to see. I
don't care about them.
    "Yes, you do, Roselyn. I know you're curious. You are