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Bishop's Rock
Amanda Stevens


If she wants to stay alive.She must remember who wants her dead.Returning to Bishop’s Rock is meant to jolt Lea Westin’s memory. But only more question greet her. Questions, and Cole Matheson, who announces Lea had hired him to investigate threats against her life. With no recollection of her own past can Lea believe the man claiming to be her loving husband? Or does she trust the sexy stranger who feels oddly familiar and dangerous in an entirely different way?







If she wants to stay alive...

She must remember who wants her dead.

Returning to Bishop’s Rock is meant to jolt Lea Westin’s memory. But only more questions greet her. Questions, and Cole Matheson, who announces Lea had hired him to investigate threats against her life. With no recollection of her own past, can Lea believe the man claiming to be her loving husband? Or does she trust the sexy stranger who feels oddly familiar and dangerous in an entirely different way?



“Why are you staring at me like that?”

He gave a slight shrug. “I’m just trying to figure you out.”

“Figure me out? What do you mean by that?”

His gaze narrowed as he continued to watch her. “Either you’re a very good actress or you really do have amnesia. In either case, you and I need to have a little chat, Mrs. Westin.”

Lea’s hand crept to her throat. She felt vulnerable and exposed and she had no idea why. “Then you do know me?”

“In a manner of speaking. I’m the man you hired to find out who wants you dead.”


Bishop’s Rock

Amanda Stevens






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


AMANDA STEVENS is an award-winning author of over fifty novels, including the modern gothic series The Graveyard Queen. Her books have been described as eerie and atmospheric, “a new take on the classic ghost story.” Born and raised in the rural South, she now resides in Houston, Texas, where she enjoys binge-watching, bike riding and the occasional margarita.


Contents

Cover (#u5e485bac-70c2-5395-a435-b464d70693b1)

Back Cover Text (#ud8a0f310-0b6b-52a0-ba7d-ca89162ca91f)

Title Page (#u4bdfd366-f1dc-585c-a840-4be4fe6e36f5)

About the Author (#ucb836bab-c11f-57b0-be42-c6d38722503a)

Chapter One (#u4e9791d2-8f84-53a5-bdf4-90be3077434e)

Chapter Two (#u32e6efa3-ddfc-55cf-bd80-c42790b1aa43)

Chapter Three (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#u4955b187-98c3-5254-b1b8-c0720124e809)

“Are you sure you don’t remember this place?” He gave her an anxious smile. “We came out here a couple of years ago. You were so enthralled with the scenery, I always swore I’d bring you back.”

“It’s beautiful, but I don’t think—” Lea Westin broke off midsentence as she raked her gaze across the rugged landscape. Whispering Springs Ranch remained a mystery to her, but she knew she’d been to Texas Hill Country before. She had vague memories of long, lazy days floating down the bottle-green Guadalupe and of hot summer nights gazing up at the stars. However, she had no memories at all of the man beside her. The man who claimed to be her husband.

Until two days ago, she hadn’t even known her own name. Then a handsome stranger had turned up at the small rehab center where she’d been recovering from a head injury sustained in a brutal attack. Passersby had found her unconscious in an alley and called the police. She’d been rushed to the nearest trauma hospital, where she remained unconscious for nearly forty-eight hours. When she finally awakened, she couldn’t remember her name, where she lived or how she’d been injured. Or why she’d been walking alone in downtown Houston after midnight. She had no recollection at all beyond those distant, distorted images from her childhood.

Folding her hands in her lap, she cast a sidelong glance at her husband. Andrew Westin. Tall, slender, sharply dressed. Lea had been taken aback by his good looks when he’d first appeared in the garden where she sat watching the sunset. She couldn’t take her eyes off him, but he hadn’t minded. Her curiosity was only natural, he’d said.

Since that first meeting, her scrutiny had grown more furtive. She found his perfection intimidating, and she was too self-conscious of her own battered appearance, too overly aware of the forgotten intimacy between them. Not that he seemed to expect anything in the way of affection. Except for a peck on the cheek, he hadn’t kissed or embraced her. The doctor said you need your space, he had explained. So we’ll take things nice and slow. One day at a time.

Lea supposed she should be relieved that she’d married such a kind and solicitous man, but she couldn’t help wondering about his distance or why she had been out alone so late at night. He’d brushed off her inquiries. Now was not the time to get into all that. She needed to concentrate on her recovery. Nothing else mattered.

But, of course, everything mattered to Lea. How else was she to piece together her shattered life? Their marriage had obviously been in trouble. She suspected a separation, which would explain why she’d spent ten days in the hospital and then rehab before her husband had come to claim her. It would also explain why she hadn’t been wearing a wedding ring when the police found her, although the attacker could have yanked the band from her finger before fleeing back into the shadows.

Andrew had scoffed at her suggestion. We were taking a break, that’s all. Nothing official. You wanted some time alone and I respected your wishes. We had problems, as all couples do, but we were working things out. And anyway, it all seems so trivial now.

Perhaps to him, but Lea couldn’t help wondering about an affair. She’d seen the reaction he stirred at the rehab center. He was extraordinarily handsome—dark haired, dark eyed, clean shaven—and very charming. Charismatic was the word that came to mind. Wealthy was another. He wore a Rolex and his cologne smelled of cedar and vanilla. Funny how she could recognize the base notes of his fragrance, but she couldn’t remember his personal scent. Not the taste of him, either, or the feel of his hands on her body in the dark.

She shivered and turned to stare out the window. He’d pulled off the main road onto a long drive lined with live oaks and cedars. To the right, easy hiking trails led back into the woods and to the left, a series of jagged arroyos and canyons had been carved from limestone cliffs, all silhouetted against the dramatic backdrop of a four-hundred-foot granite slab.

“Bishop’s Rock,” Andrew said beside her. “Impressive, isn’t it?”

“I would have said imposing,” Lea murmured.

“You didn’t used to think so. We once climbed all the way to the summit just to watch the sunset.”

She fastened her gaze on the peak. “Hard to believe, considering I get winded just walking up stairs.”

“You’re still recovering. Your body is healing and, in time, your memories will come back. You’ll see. But you don’t need to worry about any of that right now. All you need do on this trip is rest and recuperate.”

“I couldn’t do that at home?”

“You could. But after everything you’ve been through...after everything we’ve been through...” His gaze flitted over her face marked with fading bruises, then lingered on the stitched cut at her left temple, which she tried to hide with the sweep of her hair. He turned back to the road. “Anyway, I thought a getaway might be for the best. At home, there would be people coming over, friends wanting to see you. They all mean well, but it’s too soon to put you under that kind of microscope.”

“What about my family?”

He gave her a patient look. “We’ve been through that. There’s no one.”

She closed her eyes on a sigh. “It’s just so hard to believe. No parents, no siblings, no one at all?”

“You have me.”

“And I’m grateful for that. Truly. You’ve no idea how terrifying it was waking up in that hospital, not knowing who I was or how I’d gotten there. I felt so alone and helpless—”

He cut her off. “Why even go there? I’m here now and I’m not leaving. Try to relax, okay? This place will be good for us. It’s quiet and secluded and no one knows us here. We’ll have a chance to get reacquainted before people start poking their noses in our business.”

She gave him a doubtful glance. “Isn’t that just putting off the inevitable? I’ll have to face them sooner or later.”

“But not today.” He slid his hand over hers and squeezed her fingers. Another smile flashed, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Trust me, Lea. This is all for the best.”

* * *

HE HAD BEEN thoughtful enough to book separate rooms.

“I know you need your space.” He stood at the window with his back to Lea, a tall, elegant man who meant nothing to her. As if sensing her discord, he turned. “I’ll be right next door if you need me. I’ve entered my number in your new cell so that wherever you are, I’m only a phone call away.”

“Thank you.” Lea sat down on the edge of the bed, at a loss as to what to do next. Her gaze fell on the unfamiliar luggage that had been placed on the rack. The suitcase looked expensive. Everything about her husband suggested money, and plenty of it, and yet the notion of a privileged life seemed foreign to her. She supposed unpacking the luxurious bag would be a bit like opening a present on Christmas morning. She had no idea what she would find inside. Andrew had taken care of everything.

A new wardrobe for a new beginning, he’d said.

You don’t think I should wear my normal clothes? Maybe a favorite sweater or scarf would help jog my memory.

You’ll have plenty of occasions to wear your old clothing. Right now I feel the need to pamper my wife.

I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. It’s just...

Please don’t do that.

What?

You still look so hopeless at times. So lost. But it’s all going to be okay. You’ll see. I’ll take good care of you, Lea. I’ll take care of everything. All you have to do is get well.

“Did you hear what I said?”

She snapped back to the present. “I’m sorry. Something about dinner?”

“It’s at seven. Plenty of time for a bath or even a nap if you need one.”

“That sounds nice.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” He went into the bathroom and came back with a glass of water and her medication.

“I feel fine,” she protested.

“I saw you rubbing your temple just now. You have a headache, don’t you?”

“Just a small one.”

“Take this before it gets worse. Doctor’s orders.”

She complied, washing down the blue pill with a generous sip of water. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me. Just get some rest. And call if you need me.”

He left the room without a backward glance.

Lea remained motionless for a moment, trapped once more by a wave of panic and despair that threatened to engulf her. She desperately wanted to believe that everything would be okay. The doctor had been confident that her memories would return in time, either all at once or over the course of weeks, months, even years. Sometimes all it took was one cue. So much about the memory remains a mystery, he had explained. Each case of amnesia is unique. We can explore certain therapies, of course, but time and patience is key.

What if her memories never came back? What if she was destined to spend the rest of her life suspended in this strange, dreamlike existence? How long would Andrew wait for her? How soon would her condition and his patience wear thin?

She got up and walked into the bathroom to splash cold water on her face. Patting her skin dry, she stared at her reflection as she’d done dozens of times over the past several days, searching features that were as strange to her as the man next door. Brown hair, hazel eyes, light to medium complexion. She was attractive, but not a woman to turn heads. Rather, she would blend easily into a crowd. Even without all those fading bruises, no one would give her a second look without Andrew Westin at her side.

Which begged so many questions. How had the two of them met? How long had they been together? When and where had they been married?

All in due time, Lea. The doctor warned against overwhelming you. Once we’re all settled in at the retreat, we can start filling in the blanks little by little.

She went back into the bedroom to unpack, snipping off tags with the cuticle scissors she found in a well-stocked makeup bag. At the bottom of the suitcase was a stack of new underwear, nothing too racy, but the lacework was beautiful. She found shoes, too—sneakers, sandals, heels. A pair for every occasion. Lea wanted to enjoy the elaborate purchases, but it seemed like such a waste when she undoubtedly had everything she needed at home.

But maybe she didn’t. Maybe she’d moved everything out of their house when they decided to take a break. Andrew might not have a key to her new place. He might not even know her address. Instead of telling her the truth, he’d bought her a new wardrobe to mask the seriousness of their marital situation.

Don’t borrow trouble, Lea warned herself as she finished unpacking.

She hung dresses in the closet and stored T-shirts and jeans in a dresser drawer. As she lifted the lingerie from the suitcase, a photograph fell to the floor. She bent to pick it up, the task at hand completely forgotten as she sat down on the edge of the bed to study the couple in the image. It had been taken of her and Andrew at sunset at the top of Bishop’s Rock. Their backs were to the camera, but something about the ease and intimacy of the pose triggered not a memory, exactly, but a fleeting sensation of déjà vu. Andrew’s arm was draped around her and her head lay against his shoulder. Their bodies were pressed closely together as if they couldn’t bear even an inch between them.

Tears of frustration stung Lea’s eyes. How could she have forgotten the beauty of that sunset and the contentment of that moment? How could she have forgotten the feel of her husband’s arms around her or the whisper of his lips against her hair? How could she have forgotten him?

She checked the back of the photograph, but there was no date or inscription. Nothing at all written to commemorate the moment. She wondered if that climb had been only one of many adventures during the course of their marriage.

After propping the photograph against the dresser mirror, she went out to the balcony to enjoy the late-afternoon breeze. Leaning her forearms against the railing, she stared across the rugged countryside, trailing her gaze up the vertical face of Bishop’s Rock. Hard to believe she’d once climbed to the top for the simple pleasure of viewing a sunset. The shadowy summit seemed forbidding to her now and as mysterious as her past.

The back of her neck prickled as a feeling of being watched crept over her. She slid her gaze across the landscape, telling herself she was imagining things. After everything she’d been through, it was only natural to be wary. Nightmares still plagued her sleep and she had caught herself more than once glancing over her shoulder for no discernible reason. Even though she couldn’t remember the vicious attack, her instincts had built a protective wall. All her anxieties would start to dissipate as she healed, the doctor had told her. Once she felt safe again, the barriers would come down. Give it time.

The sun had dropped below the treetops. She could hear the wind in the trees and the eerie whispering sound the water made as it bubbled up from the underground springs. She had just turned to go inside when she caught a movement from the corner of her eye. Someone was coming up one of the trails, walking quickly as if on a mission of some great purpose. Glancing behind him, he left the trail and strode across the grounds toward the house, stopping short at the edge of the patio when he saw her staring down at him.

Their gazes touched and for a moment, Lea felt suspended in time. Frozen in the terror of her nightmares.

She knew that man. She didn’t know how she knew him, but she was certain she’d seen him before. He was tall, perhaps even taller than Andrew, slim and as fit as her husband, but there was something unsettling about this man’s vitality. He seemed stealthy and cunning and dangerous.

He was dressed in jeans, dusty boots and a plain black T-shirt—all of which had seen better days. His dark hair was clipped short for convenience and scruff shadowed his lower face.

He squinted up at her so that she couldn’t tell the exact shade of his eyes, but they were light and piercing and she imagined them to be as cold as ice.

Her impulse was to retreat back into the room and lock the door, but the same instinct that had erected those protective walls held her rooted to the spot as a voice in her head whispered, Don’t let him see your fear.


Chapter Two (#u4955b187-98c3-5254-b1b8-c0720124e809)

Andrew had already gone downstairs by the time Lea ventured out of her room. She was very late. After the unsettling encounter with the man on the patio, she’d gone inside to rest, finally drifting off to sleep despite her agitated state. Her dreams had been filled with disturbing images and warnings. Of the man’s face staring down at her in the dark. Mrs. Westin? Can you hear me?

She’d awakened with a start, gazing around the room in confusion until her nerves settled and she remembered where she was. Her head throbbed, but she decided against taking another pill. Instead, she’d drawn a bath and relaxed in the hot water until the pain subsided. Then she’d fussed over her makeup and clothing, prolonging the moment when she would open her bedroom door to a strange and frightening world.

Now she hovered at the top of the stairs, searching for her husband. He stood in the great room doorway, his back to her, but he glanced over his shoulder as if sensing her presence. Then he turned slowly to face her, his expression enigmatic as he took her in. She wore a simple green dress that had appealed to her more than the other selections and a pair of beige sandals. She’d left her hair loose about her shoulders, and a bit of concealer hid most of the fading bruises. Andrew left his spot in the doorway and came across the foyer to greet her.

She held on to the banister, disconcerted by the concentration of his stare. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting. I fell asleep.”

“Don’t apologize. I’m glad you were able to rest. No one has gone into dinner yet anyway.” He took her hand and then her shoulders, holding her at arms length as he searched her face.

“Is something wrong?” she asked nervously.

“Nothing at all.”

“Then why are you looking at me like that?”

An emotion she couldn’t name flashed in his eyes and then he seemed to catch himself. “I’m happy to see you looking so well. Almost like your old self.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “But the contrast from the past few days is startling.” He lifted his hand as if to brush her cheek with his knuckles and then abruptly stepped back. His eyes flashed again before he glanced away. “You were so pale and battered when I first saw you at the rehab center. You’ve no idea what seeing you like that did to me.”

Now Lea was taken aback. His hesitancy stunned her. In the short time since he had appeared in the garden, she’d gleaned one thing from their encounters. Her husband was a man of supreme confidence. She had attributed his reluctance for physical contact as deference to her condition, but now he seemed vulnerable and confused, as if he didn’t know what to make of his own emotions. Far from drawing her in, though, his restraint made her want to retreat even deeper behind her barriers. His self-doubt made him seem human and approachable, and she wasn’t yet ready for that kind of familiarity.

Then she noticed the man she’d seen on the patio earlier and something—another jolt of déjà vu—propelled her to her husband’s side. Andrew was also a stranger, but at least she knew something of their shared history. She had no idea where or when or how her path had crossed with the newcomer.

He had taken Andrew’s place at the great room door, leaning a shoulder against the woodwork as he watched them openly. He was dressed in charcoal slacks and a blue shirt that made his eyes seem even more electric. He didn’t smile at her as their gazes touched. If anything, Lea could have sworn she saw a flash of suspicion before he glanced back over his shoulder into the great room.

She had unconsciously pressed closer to Andrew. Released from the stranger’s gaze, she now moved away, peering through the doorway to glimpse the other guests.

A blonde appeared at the stranger’s side. “Oh, you must be the new arrivals,” she said cheerfully. “I’m Elise. This is...” She turned with a frown. “I’m sorry. What did you say your name is again?”

“I didn’t say.” His voice was low with a raspy edge. The sound of it filled Lea with inexplicable dread. “I’m Cole Matheson.”

“Elise Terry.” She was a striking-looking woman with short platinum hair and blue-green eyes. She had dressed all in black—slim trousers, fitted sweater and stiletto heels that added four inches to her already statuesque height.

Her crystalline gaze vectored in on Andrew. Her voice dropped expectantly. “And you are?”

He extended his hand. “Andrew Westin. This is my wife, Lea.”

“Well, Andrew Westin, Noah said you’d be arriving before dinner. Looks like you’re just in time for cocktails.”

“Who’s Noah?” Lea asked as they all exchanged handshakes and greetings.

“He’s a good man to get to know,” Elise said. “He pretty much runs this place. Anything you need, he’ll take care of. He’s also a tour guide if you want to venture off the main trails, and if you’re in the mood for a climb, he can see you safely up Bishop’s Rock.”

“We can handle Bishop’s Rock on our own,” Andrew said. “My wife and I are both seasoned climbers.”

“Is that so?” Elise’s brow arched ever so slightly as she turned to give Lea an assessment. “We should plan an excursion, then. How about you, Mr. Matheson? Do you climb?”

“I hunt,” he said as his gaze raked over Lea.

The stranger’s interest disconcerted her. She slipped her hand in Andrew’s and he squeezed her fingers before abruptly releasing her. “How about that drink?” he said, to no one in particular.

Elise was quick to accommodate. “There’s a bar in the great room. Self-service tonight. Come along.” She tucked her arm through Andrew’s. “I’ll show you around and introduce you to the others.”

Andrew shot Lea an apologetic glance as he allowed Elise to usher him through the archway.

Left alone in the foyer with Cole Matheson, Lea said self-consciously, “Are there many other guests?”

“Only a handful. Slow week, seems like.”

“Are you staying in the main house or one of the cabins?”

He cocked his head. “Does it matter?”

“No, of course, not.” She shrugged. “I was just trying to make small talk. Apparently, I’m no good at it.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” He searched her face for another long moment before he said, “I’m right down the hall from you, I believe.”

“You would know that since you saw me earlier on the balcony.”

“Yes.”

Lea paused, not at all certain she wanted to continue the conversation. But a perverse curiosity about the stranger got the better of her. “Had you been out hunting when I saw you? I didn’t notice a rifle.”

He smiled. “Just taking a walk.”

A walk? No, Lea didn’t think so. Her first impression upon spying him had been of a man on a mission, one of some urgency. But he seemed in no hurry now as he folded his arms and continued to watch her.

His unabashed scrutiny was truly alarming. She was all too aware of the bruises peeking through her makeup and the black hole that was her memory. She had the notion that this man was trying to test her. That he knew more about her than she knew about herself. If that were the case, he could be a valuable resource, but Lea had a feeling she was best not knowing his secrets. Something about the way he looked at her...watched her...

I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Mrs. Westin.

She physically jumped at the memory. Or was it a memory? Maybe her nerves had conjured the raspy voice in her ear, but that didn’t explain why her senses were suddenly filled with the scent of mint. The fragrance was so strong she might have been holding a fresh sprig beneath her nose.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“What? Yes. I just...remembered something.” She tried to shake off her unease.

“Must have been something unpleasant by the look on your face.”

“I need to find my husband.”

An unsettling combination of doubt and bewilderment glinted in his eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Fear prickled across her scalp. That voice! She had heard it before, a hoarse murmur against her ear.

“Mrs. Westin?”

“I’m...fine.”

He purposely lowered his tone as if to create a false intimacy between them. “Don’t worry. Your husband hasn’t gone far.” He glanced over his shoulder into the great room, where Andrew and Elise stood at the bar mixing martinis.

As Lea started into the room, the stranger straightened, falling in line beside her as she moved across the threshold. A few people milled about in small groups, chatting and sipping drinks as they waited for dinner to be announced. They took scant notice of Lea and her companion, but she was acutely aware of Cole Matheson at her side. How could she shake him when he seemed so insensitive to her discomfort?

She fixed her gaze on her husband, willing his attention. Andrew glanced across the room and smiled as he caught her eye, but he made no move to rescue her. He didn’t even motion her over. He seemed too absorbed in whatever Elise Terry had to say to pay Lea anything more than a cursory acknowledgment. She watched them for a moment before turning back to Cole Matheson.

“Would you like a drink?” he inquired politely.

“No, thanks, but don’t let me keep you.”

His blue eyes deepened. “I don’t drink when I hunt.”

She suppressed a shudder. “What do you hunt?”

“Big game mostly, the more elusive the better. I enjoy a challenge.”

Her chin lifted. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t appreciate your passion. I don’t understand how anyone can find pleasure in the taking of a life.”

“Don’t you?”

“Excuse me,” she said coolly. “I think I’ll get a breath of fresh air before dinner.”




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