After closing up the shop and driving home to Everwine Manor, Runa paced back and forth across the floor of her bedroom. Confusion and desperation warred within. She felt caged, imprisoned in a cell of her own making. She loved Chase with all her heart, didn’t she? Wasn’t that what she felt for him? Of course, she didn’t have a lot of experience with healthy relationships. Was it possible that she’d mistaken infatuation for love? Things had moved quickly, but she had always felt sure of her love for Chase. She couldn’t bring herself to believe he was dangerous.
But was she wrong? Did she truly love him? Did he love her? Or was she simply blinded by her intense feelings for him?
Easton seemed capable of anything. She’d experienced that firsthand. She’d also been on the receiving end of Camille’s evilness. Even though they were Chase’s parents, that didn’t mean he was like them. Chase was good. He was a philanthropist, a solid citizen. He would never hurt her.
Deep down, she believed that. Chase wasn’t like his parents. She’d married him, not them. She hadn’t made a mistake.
When she’d finally managed to calm her nerves, Runa decided she needed a distraction. Chase wasn’t due home from work for a couple of hours, and Easton and Camille were still out of the country. Maisie had errands to run in town, and the rest of the staff was otherwise occupied. It was the perfect time to continue her exploration of Everwine Manor.
Closing the bedroom door behind her, she walked quickly down the hall, around the corner, down the next corridor, and into the west wing. She’d been planning her return since the day Maisie chased her away.
Opening the doorway to the sitting room, she ducked inside quickly, flipping on the light. She glanced around the room, her pulse quickening as she surveyed the opulence on full display.
The walls were lined with priceless oil paintings, several of landscapes and flowers as well as a few portraits. She scrutinized the portraits, looking into the lifelike paintings of people she didn’t know. She assumed they were members of the Everwine family.
Frowning, she gazed into the eyes of a man whose face so closely resembled Chase’s that it took her by surprise. Perhaps it was his grandfather. Although he was quite handsome, his countenance was cold. Runa traced her fingertip across the man’s chiseled features, noticing his face would have been perfect if not for a giant red gash on his cheek. She wondered what accident may have befallen him. Whatever it was must have been bad.
Moving across the room, Runa saw an ornate easel covered with a large cloth. Curious, she lifted the cloth, a gasp escaping her lips as the portrait beneath was revealed. Inching closer, she could hardly believe her eyes.
Beneath the cover was a perfectly rendered painting of the woman from her dreams, wearing the same wedding dress Runa had worn. The woman was blonde, her flaxen hair the exact same shade as Runa’s. Her identical blue eyes seemed to look directly into Runa’s soul.
Glancing at the bottom corner, Runa noticed the portrait was dated 1900. Pulling her sweater closer to her body to fight off a sudden chill, she grabbed her phone and snapped a photo of the portrait. She needed concrete proof of what was in front of her eyes, because it was impossible to wrap her brain around it. The woman was the spitting image of Runa.
She felt connected to the woman in a way she couldn’t explain.
As she stared at the portrait, something happened. Before her eyes, its subject came to life. The woman’s eyes began to blink, and tears coursed down her cheeks. Her full red lips began to move, and strange words filled the room. The phrase began as a whisper but grew in intensity. Soon the portrait woman was screaming, “Du er i fare,” the words echoing throughout the room.
Trembling, Runa collapsed into a nearby desk chair. Burying her face in her trembling hands, she told herself none of it was real. She took ten deep breaths, certain that when she opened her eyes, everything would be back to normal. But it wasn’t. When she looked at the portrait, the woman was still crying, the odd words continuing to fall from her mouth.
Not knowing what else to do, Runa faced her fear head-on. Speaking directly to the woman in the portrait, she managed to find her voice.
“What do the words mean? I’ve heard them before, but I don’t understand.”
“Du er i fare,” the portrait repeated.
“I don’t know what that means,” Runa protested.
Sudden movement on the desk before her caught her attention. Runa blinked twice as a feathered quill pen dipped itself into the inkwell and began to scrawl out a message on the paper in front of her. Aghast, Runa watched as the pen wrote the mysterious words over and over again across the page: “Du er i fare.”
As quickly as it began, everything stopped. The portrait grew still, and the quill pen clattered onto the desk.
Glancing back and forth between the painting and the pen, Runa waited. Nothing else happened. The room was eerily quiet, the portrait silent.
For a moment, she was sure she’d imagined it all. But the paper filled with scribblings of the strange phrase remained. She couldn’t deny the words were real.
Grabbing the paper, Runa folded it several times and shoved it into her pocket before she practically ran from the room, turning off the light and exiting as quickly as possible. The walls were closing in, making it impossible to breathe.
She was about to head back to the east wing when she heard a loud thump on the floor above. The sound came from the third-floor entryway. As she eased the creaking door open, her heart pounded. Someone or something was up there. She was as certain as she’d ever been.
Runa remained stock-still, listening intently for several moments, but she heard nothing. Shoving her trembling hand into her pocket to finger the paper, she ran back to her room.
She didn’t know what the words meant, but she was going to find out.