“If you’re asking if I felt complicit in my father’s death, I did not. Although, admittedly, I’ve spent an inordinate amount of time trying to understand my father’s motives.” He shrugged, indicating that it had been a futile endeavor. “All I know is that my father had a singular inability to love.”
Good God! Did he really just say that?
Horrified, he self-consciously cleared his throat, refusing to meet Edie’s disarmingly direct gaze.
“Maybe he did love you; he just didn’t know how to express it.”
“To know the man was to know better.”
Getting up from her chair, Edie walked toward him. “I think your father was an idiot for wasting his life the way he did. It’s what Herman Melville referred to as the ‘horror of the half-lived life.’ So, what about the rest of your life? Have you ever been married? Do you have any kids?”
Caedmon stared at the threadbare carpet, the conversation having veered into uncomfortable territory, his unsavory past about to rear its ugly head. The ghost of his murdered lover, Juliana Howe, lurked in the near vicinity. If he told her about Jules, he’d also have to tell her about his murderous rampage in the streets of Belfast.
Arms crossed over his chest, he listened as the mantel clock relentlessly ticked off each passing second with an air of funerary gravitas.
Edie placed a hand on his forearm. “Look, whatever it is that you’re afraid to tell me, I’ll understand. Really, I will.”
Angry that he’d been shoved into a tight corner, he moved away from her. “You’ll understand? Correct me if I’m wrong, but you first made my acquaintance four days ago. Barely enough time to know how I take my tea, let alone understand me.” He snatched his anorak from the nearby wall hook. “There’s a curry house several blocks down the street. I’m going to get some takeaway.”
CHAPTER 56
Edie yanked the black turtleneck over her head, tossing it onto the wood toilet lid. Placing her hand into the claw-footed tub, she swirled the sudsy water, testing to make sure she had the right mix of hot and cold. Evidently, it had yet to occur to the Brits that a single faucet was a whole heck of a lot better than dueling hot and cold water taps. But as she was quickly learning, the Brits were a strange and curious lot.
Unhooking her bra, she let it drop onto the linoleum floor. At seeing the small hickey next to her nipple, she smiled, remembering. Caedmon had surprised her with his passion, morphing into a lusty alpha male the moment he removed his wools and tweeds. A lot of things about Caedmon surprised her. The way he would dunk a cookie into his coffee cup then immediately apologize, as though he’d committed the gravest of sins. His almost boyish exuberance when it came to anything even remotely esoteric. His insistence on opening doors and preceding her down the steps. His sweetness. His tenderness. His unrelenting resolve when it came to the Ark.
God, he could be a hard-ass. She suspected that he took after his father more than he realized.
Yeah, she’d pushed him. But he’d pushed back even harder. Short of killing a man in cold blood, she’d understand whatever deep, dark secret he kept under lock and key. She was certainly no saint.
What she needed to do was back off. Enforce a Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell policy. When he was ready, when he felt more comfortable with the relationship, he would open up.
Clothes removed, she walked over and shut off the taps. Tentatively, she stuck a big toe into the tub. Then, a hand braced on either side of the claw-footed tub, she slowly sank into the frothy water, having found a half-used bottle of lemon-scented bubble bath.
“Perfect,” she crooned, her tensed muscles finally relaxing. She stared at the pitched ceiling, the light from the adjoining room turning the surface a pretty shade of cotton-candy pink.
She reached for the washcloth she’d earlier draped over the curved lip of the tub.
“‘Deck the halls with boughs of holly, fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la. ’”
Belatedly realizing that it was one of those songs that wore better after a couple of glasses of eggnog, she switched gears, instead humming “The Little Drummer Boy” as she soaped up the washcloth.
Raising her right leg out of the water, she washed it from toe to knee.
Again, her thoughts turned to Caedmon. Christmas had to be a difficult time of year for him given that his father—
“Getting all cleaned up to do the dirty, huh?”
At hearing that deep-throated voice, Edie swung her head toward the open bathroom door.
Oh, God. It was him.
CHAPTER 57
Stunned to find her Oxford assailant negligently leaning against the doorjamb, Edie thought her heart would explode.
Overcome with fear, she helplessly gripped the sides of the tub.
“And in case you got any notions about screaming or hollering or complaining to the management, you might want to reconsider,” the intruder drawled, slowly pulling a gun from the waistband of his military-style cargo pants. “The two of us are gonna do this nice and quiet.”
Edie stared at the dark lump of steel clutched in his meaty hand. She didn’t know much about firearms. But she knew a silencer when she saw one. He could kill her in cold blood and no one in the guesthouse would be the wiser. Just like he’d killed Dr. Padgham at the museum. Just like he’d probably killed God knows how many people.
Gun in hand, he strolled over and retrieved her bra from the floor. As he did, Edie noticed the surgical tape on the side of his head. Evidently, he’d had to have sutures after Caedmon hit him with the broken bottle. Like he wasn’t scary enough already; the little pieces of white tape made him look like a turbo-charged Frankenstein.
Holding her bra up to his face, the behemoth read the inside tag. “Thirty-four C. Nice. They ought to fit my hands just perfect.”
Hearing that, Edie wanted to puke.
“H-how d-did you find me?” she nervously stammered, hoping that if she changed the subject, she could somehow change his intentions.
Grinning, he dropped the bra. “Amazing how you can hunt down a person anywhere in the world with a microdot tracking device and a Palm Pilot. And the beauty of it? It doesn’t cost more than two hundred dollars. That’s the good thing about them chinks and how they mass-produce everything on God’s green planet. Keeps down the cost of running surveillance.”
“That’s why you attacked me in Oxford, so you could plant a tracking device on me.”
“Aren’t you the clever bitch?” He gaze slowly moved down her soap-covered body, stopping at her quivering breasts.
Edie sank deeper into the mound of bubbles, her head being the only thing that remained above water. If she could have, she would have squeezed herself right down the drain.
“He’s going to be back. Any minute now. So you better leave while you still have the chance.” She pointedly glanced at his sutured skull, hoping to drive home her point.
“Ooh, I’m quaking in my boots. Besides, I’ve got my doubts about your redheaded honey returning any time soon. Last I saw him, he was sitting at the corner bar, downing a cold one. So, it looks like it’s gonna be just me and you, sweet tits. But after what I saw last night, I think you can handle it.” Lewdly grinning, he winked at her. “I got last night’s fuck fest on video. Hot. Real, real hot.” Reaching down, he cupped his crotch with his free hand, pursing his thick lips in an exaggerated air kiss.
“I’m going to be sick,” Edie moaned, leaning over the side of the tub, gagging.