Page 3 of His Sinful Touch

“It was Jason who found it, but Allie discovered the secret to opening it—she’s a bloodthirsty little thing, have you noticed? I had a devil of a time persuading her she couldn’t keep it.”

“Well, you know her father.” Alex shrugged. “Next she’ll be brandishing a pistol.”

“Terrifying thought.”

“Do you expect trouble at this place you’re going? Will you need a dagger?”

“Not really.” Con sighed. “I’m relatively sure he’s swindling his believers—easy to persuade someone to hand over all their worldly goods when they think they’ll be transported up to heaven in a few months. But I haven’t seen any sign that he’s gotten physical. Still, I like to be prepared.”

Alex grinned as he handed back the knife. “Especially if it involves a clever trick.”

“Of course.” Con fitted the weapon back into its slot. “Care to come with me?”

Alex felt a twinge of longing. He and Con had shared many an adventure. It was only the past few years, when Alex had been studying at the Architectural Association and then practicing in his field, that Alex had stayed behind more and more, helping out only now and then with Con’s investigations.

“No,” he said reluctantly. “Better not. I have work to do on the plans for Blackburn’s country house. And I have... I don’t know, I just have a feeling I should be here.”

“What do you mean?” Con set aside the cane and fixed his searching gaze on his twin. “Is something wrong?”

“No... Maybe. I don’t know.” Alex grimaced.

“You had a premonition?”

“Not exactly. I’m not like Anna. I don’t see what’s going to happen.” Alex folded his arms. He never liked talking about his “gift,” as Con saw it—or his “curse,” as Alex was more likely to consider it. “I’ve been very out of sorts since I woke up. Restless. It’s probably nothing, just some residue from a dream.”

“You had another nightmare.” Con was the only one whom Alex had ever told about his bad dreams.

“I suppose. I don’t really remember it. I just woke up feeling...” He shrugged. Even with his twin, Alex hated to reveal the bone-deep fear that invaded him in these dreams, the paralyzing sensation of powerlessness. It was a form of weakness he hated in himself. “The thing was...it was something like the way you and I feel when the other is in trouble. But different somehow. I’m positive it wasn’t about you. But I’ve never had that feeling about any of our other siblings.”

“Do you think your ability is growing? Improving?” Con asked almost eagerly.

“I sincerely hope not,” Alex retorted. “I’ll go mad if I receive signals every time a Moreland gets into trouble.”

“True. Theo’s girls alone would be enough to keep you busy night and day.”

Alex grinned but quickly turned serious again. “I wanted to ask if you had ever felt that way. If you sensed things about the others.”

“No.” Con looked vaguely wistful. “You know me—I haven’t a smidgen of talent. I mean, other than twin speak.” He looked thoughtful. “If you think something’s wrong, perhaps I should postpone my trip.”

“No. Don’t be absurd.” Alex shook his head. “I’m sure I’m jumping at shadows.”

“But these dreams...”

“You put more credence in my dreams than I do.”

“We all know Morelands have significant dreams...except for me, of course. Think of Reed dreaming Anna was in danger, or the things Kyria saw in her dreams.”

“I’ve never had a significant dream in my life. They’re just nightmares. I’ve had them since we were thirteen.”

“Yes, but those stopped years ago. It’s only been recently that you’ve been dreaming about being locked up again. There must be a reason.”

“Probably the squab I had for supper last night,” Alex said lightly.

Con snorted, but he dropped the subject. That was one of the best things about being a twin—one didn’t have to pretend, and the other knew without having to ask.

“I’d better be on my way,” Con said, picking up his cane and the small traveling case on the floor beside the desk. “My train leaves at two, and I don’t want to miss it.”

With a grin and a twirl of his bowler, he popped the hat onto his head and left. Alex, a smile lingering on his lips, perched on the edge of Con’s desk, long legs stretched out in front of him, and thought about his dreams.