Page 22 of The Magical Bed & Breakfast

Kate nodded. “Tell me more about this blessing.”

“The Hazard blessing imbues power when spoken over an object. I have a feeling this musical score may be charmed, as are other objects in the community. I’ll have to do some research and see what I can learn.”

“It is.” Rory’s voice was low, his tone certain. “I didn’t understand before. Until you found this music and Ivy sang it, none of what I’d read about it made any sense. But I know the legend for this.”

Kate blinked, drawn into the craziness despite herself, as Rory waved a hand at the sheet music.

“You do?” they chimed.

He took a breath. “I researched the inn a lot after I was trapped inside. I didn’t know about any of this. I was mostly looking for information about…”

Kate caught his eyes and gave a vehement head shake.

“…about the war and how the rebels smuggled weapons under the noses of the British. But there was mention of a musical score that, if played perfectly, guarantees the success of the musicians.”

“Ooh, success is good.” Ivy gave a little jump.

Kate gave them a wry smile and shook her head.When in Hazard…“I guess I better start practicing, then. I need all the help I can get to keep up with this place.”

Chapter Ten

Kate tossed inher bed, body aching from the day’s efforts. The furniture arrival, while marvelous, had caused Kate to use muscles she forgot she had. True, it was tall, lean, and remarkably strong Rory who’d carried the furniture inside, but it was Kate who’d shoved and shifted until its positioning pleased her. Next, she had braved her basement, making all her muscles tense, not to mention tromping about in tunnels. That had done nothing to ease her strain. Winding through Hazard’s secret underground had been both exhilarating and terrifying. But finding the score had thrilled her and had then led to her hunching over a piano to get reacquainted with even more muscles long unused.

So much had happened in a day that her mind couldn’t rest. And on top of all that was the nagging sense that she still needed to place where she’d seen Rory before. It couldn’t have been around town. He hadn’t been back since she’d lived here. She closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep. She was drifting into dreamland when she heard it, the padding of tiny paws on stairs. Little cat feet moving toward her room. She held her breath. Would kitty come close enough for her to see more than its shadow?

There, against the wall, a dark form of an arched back with tail high. Finally, the cat trusted her enough to come close. Kate eased her arm out slowly to turn on the bedside lamp.

At the sudden brightness, the shadow on the wall flashed into stark relief and vanished. Kate peered round the room.

No cat.

She threw back the soft billowing covers and dropped to her knees to peer under the bed.

No cat.

But her door was ajar. Kittyhadbeen here. Kate knew she had closed her door. Had she locked it? She’d meant to. Not that she was scared of Rory, but privacy was important. So how had the door come ajar? She must have slept without realizing it. Ah, a dream. She had dreamed the cat coming into her room.

Except that didn’t explain the open door. Kate rose and walked over to it. She peeked around to glance into the hall. How would a cat open a door?

Surely Rory wouldn’t spy on her while she slept.

Biting her lip, Kate shut and locked her door and dropped back into bed. She pulled the covers up to her neck, turned off her light, and stared, unblinking, into darkness.

*

Golden light streamedthrough the uneven window glass of Rory’s second floor room facing the town green, casting a lovely morning glow over the downy blue coverlet and spilling across the Aubusson carpet. Rory sat up, raised his arms high above his head, and stretched as far as he could reach. He’d slept surprisingly well, despite spending the night at the site of his youthful trauma.

Amazing.

He’d expected his slumber to be fitful, but the bed was comfortable and the Hazard Inn remarkably peaceful. He had dreamed, of course, of Prudence Worthy and her handsome British soldier, Cyrus Cross. He had seen them in his mind’s eye, Prudence sneaking along the hall to meet in this very room where Cyrus had tugged her into his arms and stolen a kiss. They’d spoken in hushed tones, plotting her escape from her unreasonable father, planning to wed secretly and sail back to England. Cyrus had her convinced that the American Rebellion was futile and would soon be curtailed. Prudence had dashed out, giggling, Cyrus watching her climb the stairs back up to the third floor.

Rory rubbed his eyes. It was a dream, just a dream, though it had weighed him down through the night. About to toss back the covers, he noticed in them a circular indent as if a cat had curled up next to him as he slept.

“Huh.” So Kate’s mystery cat had made a visitation. If it had snoozed on the bed with him in it, the cat wasn’t feral. But how did it get in? His door was shut and locked, indicating it must still be somewhere in his room.

Rory set about searching: under the bed, behind the highboy and the wingback chair. No cat anywhere, but he discovered a small opening in the back of his narrow closet where a cat might slip through. He grabbed up the oversized flashlight he’d used in the tunnel to shine light into the gap. It looked empty, but he didn’t relish getting scratched if the cat was tucked up in there. Before reaching in, he grabbed the gloves Kate had supplied him with yesterday and slipped them on. He eased his hand, then his arm, in carefully and felt around. All empty space back there. The cat might be traveling through the walls, though, and that could explain what Kate was experiencing. He’d have to share his find with her.

After he’d showered and dressed and was ready to head downstairs, glorious scents had begun to waft up from below. Ah, bed andbreakfast. He headed down to find the dining table elegantly appointed with placemats and china for two. A pitcher of orange juice collecting condensation awaited. He spotted Kate in the kitchen at the stove.

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