Bitter Legacy — Ruth MacLeod

Just Before Retiring The First Night . . .

He caught my hand, his voice suddenly husky as he said, “I hope I haven't made a mistake bringing you here! If anything happens . . . “ he checked himself and forced a smile. “Goodnight, Coralie. Have a good sleep.”

He strode on down the arcada and disappeared behind a massive door without looking back. I stared after him, trying not to be frightened by any implications in his words or manner. Yet more and more the idea was forcing itself on me that there was something evil about this crumbling hacienda and its inhabitants, and it was hard to subdue the uneasy quickening of my pulse. I almost wished I had listened to Mr. Lambert's warning and backed out of the deal. Now it was too late.