The Royal B & B was, in a word, creepy.

Set off the road on the edge of town, a curving drive of winter-dead trees cloaked the house from street view. As the dark gray gothic structure loomed into sight, Marley’s stomach sank like the Titanic.

The Addams family would love this place. They might even live here.

The house was straight out of a gothic romance novel; three stories high with a balcony at each level and a rounded tower on the side-probably where the crazy relations would be locked away. Dark windows stared blindly over porches that dripped teeth-like embellishments. All the place needed was a stormy night and some lightning. Maybe a howling coyote. Or a werewolf.

“Wow, Mommy, look at that house.”

“I’m looking.” She kept the trepidation from her tone. If Wyatt brought her here, it must be a good place. Right?

As if she knew all that much about her rescuer.

She parked and got out, clutching Braden’s hand as she met Wyatt at a cobblestone walk leading up to the front door. On either side, tall evergreens of different shapes, sizes, and types bracketed the walkway and obscured the corners of the home. In the brown, grassy center of the circular drive, a fountain bubbled from the midst of low-growing, red-berried holly.

The grounds held more appeal than the big, dark house.

“Not what you expected?” Wyatt’s eyes were amused.

“I’m not picky.” Truth. “Secure is all I care about.”

“You’ll have that here.”

She lifted both eyebrows. “I’ll have to take your word on that.” There wasn’t even a bed-and-breakfast sign.

Wyatt snickered and lifted the giant brass knocker. A pleasant chime sounded somewhere inside.

She’d enjoyed their time at the bakery, a time that had extended to more than an hour. They’d jokingly argued over which was better, sprinkles or plain, and laughed together at Braden’s chocolate smeared mouth. Wyatt had asked, and she’d told him a little about growing up in the city. Safe ground.

Now, they were here, at a home that looked anything but safe.

After a brief wait, during which Marley considered escape, a tall, stately woman opened the door. Definitely not a member of the Addams’ family.

Dooney, as Wyatt had called her, was stunning, an ageless beauty likely in her fifties or sixties, her short pale hair perfectly coiffed and swept back from her face, her eyes a crystal blue. More startling than her beauty was her attire. She wore an ice blue, sequined gown fit for a ballroom. A white stole hugged her shoulders. Diamonds dripped from her ears and flashed on her hands.

When Wyatt had said she was eccentric, Marley’s imagination had conjured a fluffy, matronly woman with lots of cats or parakeets. Not a beauty queen enroute to the ball.

“Wyatt, come in, come in. I’d heard you were home.” Dooney waved a regal hand toward the interior. “Will you stay for tea?”

Marley could not imagine this rugged warrior holding a fragile tea cup.

“I wish I could, but Connie’s got me hanging Christmas lights.”

“If she loans you out, let me know.” Dooney stepped aside to let them in.

“Shoot me a text. Always happy to help out a friend.” He touched Marley’s back and Braden’s shoulder, ushering them forward.

Inside, Marley tried not to gawk.

The well-lit foyer, tastefully decorated with art on the walls and a sparkling chandelier overhead, was nothing like the exterior.

Definitely not home to Morticia and Gomez.

“I brought a couple of friends,” Wyatt said, “potential customers if you have a vacancy.”

The woman tilted her regal head and smiled. “Most of my guests are long-term, but I try to keep a room or two open for shorter stays. Someone moved out of the Wedgewood Suite this morning.”

“Perfect.” Wyatt touched Marley’s back again and stood close enough that she caught the scent of his after shave. Manly, like him.

“Dooney,” he said, “meet Marley Johnson and her son, Braden. Marley and Braden, this is Countess Belinda von Dunenburg.”

Marley hoped she hadn’t squeaked, but she might have.

A countess? For real? Was she supposed to curtsy? Kiss the woman’s ring? Or what?

“I’m happy to make your acquaintance, Countess von Dunenburg.”

The countess waved off the title. “Everyone calls me Dooney. We aren’t formal around here.”

They weren’t? Considering the sweeping black staircase, gleaming white walls, and stunning chandelier, as well as the formally attired proprietress, Marley wasn’t sure about that.

“I have a vacancy on the second floor,” the countess said, “if that will work for you. All my rooms are en suite and include breakfast at your leisure.” She named a price.

More than Marley wanted to pay but doable for a few days.

“Will you accept cash in advance?” Marley held her breath.

“Marley’s lost her credit card,” Wyatt said, and a look passed between him and the countess.

Dooney gave an almost imperceptible nod. “Cash is perfect.”

Marley wondered about the subtle exchange. Was Wyatt vouching for her? Promising to make good if she and Braden snuck out in the middle of the night?

The notion made her go hot and cold. She wasn’t a crook. She would never do that. Unless she or Braden were in jeopardy. Which was entirely possible.

Oh, she hated this!

“Thank you,” she managed. “We won’t be any trouble.”

As if to put the lie to her words, Braden looped his arms around Wyatt’s kneecap and cried out, “I don’t want to stay in a haunted house.”

“Braden!” Marley’s face heated. She wanted to sink right through the floor to the dungeon. Surely there was one in a house like this. “Countess, I apologize for my son. I am very sorry.” She gave Braden her sternest look. “Apologize right now.”

Braden’s lips trembled. He clung to Wyatt’s leg like Velcro, his big, watery eyes on the countess. “I sorry.”

“Apology accepted, young man, and well stated, by the way.” The countess’s blue eyes twinkled. “Bold honesty is one of the traits I find so delightful in children. Absolutely no subterfuge in them.”

Guilt hit Marley like a slap. Braden was open and honest. She wasn’t. At the moment, she had little choice. Renting a room in this unlikely place bought her some much needed time. If she could get her son to cooperate.

Braden clung all the tighter to Wyatt. After being rescued by the soldier twice, her son had chosen him as his hero, his anchor in a scary place, and he wasn’t about to let go.

Wyatt had reached hero status in her view, too, but she wouldn’t cling to his knee caps. Probably.

Her hero hunkered on the dark wood floor next to Braden, a hand on the child’s back, tender and steady. The sight tickled Marley’s stomach.

“This is a very nice house, Braden,” he said. “It’s not scary. I promise. You’ll like staying here.”

“But I like your house. I want to stay there.”

“Once you get settled in your new room, maybe you and your mom can come out to the ranch for a visit. How about that?”

“And ride the horse some more?”

“If your mother agrees.”

Braden’s anxious gaze found hers. “Can we, Mommy? I’ll be real good.”

Wyatt looked up at her, too, the slightest lift to his lips. “Please, Mom. He’ll be real good.”

A tinkle of laughter escaped the countess. “Say yes, Marley. I would. But then, I never could refuse a pretty man. And you have two.”

No, she did not have two men. She had one little boy. Wyatt was a friend. A skin-sizzling friend.

To that too-appealing male, she said, “We’ll figure something out later. Okay?”

“At your service, day or night.” He stood, one hand still on Braden’s shoulder. “In case you get stuck or something.”

She smiled, liking him more every minute. “I’ll do my best to stay out of ditches. Tell Connie how much I appreciate the guest house, dinner, everything.”

“You can tell her yourself.” With a final squeeze of Braden’s shoulder, he said goodbye to the countess and made his departure.

A cold wind circled in behind him, accentuating Marley’s aloneness. Wyatt seemed to take the warmth with him.

The fact that she didn’t want him to leave troubled her deeply. Why did she have to meet such a terrific man now? Getting too close to anyone at this juncture was very nearly suicide. Or jailicide.

A shudder quaked down her back. She stiffened her spine, refusing to lose hope.

Wyatt promised they’d be safe here. He was confident no one would find them in such an out-of-the way place, and she tended to agree. The Royal B & B was not on the beaten path. Though she felt horrible for letting Wyatt think the problem was Braden’s father, the lie had removed the suspicion from his eyes and made him a stronger ally.

He liked her. He’d wanted to believe. So she’d lied to him.

God had forgiven her for so much already. For Braden’s sake, she hoped he’d forgive her for the lies she hadn’t wanted to tell.

“Come,” the countess said. “I’ll show you the guest areas of the house. The bottom floor is living space with one en suite. The second floor contains four guest rooms, and the third floor is my private residence.”

With the graceful walk of a charm school grad, the glittering Dooney led them on a brief tour of the house.

“You’re home is beautiful,” Marley said they stepped into a stunning living room.

“Not so scary now, is it, Braden?” The countess turned her attention to Braden, who followed along quietly, taking in the massive home.

Marley held her breath, wondering what her son would say next.

“Don’t you gots a Christmas tree?”

Laughter tinkled from the woman’s lips. “I need one, don’t I?”

“Yep. So Santa can come and bring presents.”

The Countess cocked her head, a finger to her cheek in a charming gesture. “Do you think he will?”

Braden nodded wisely. “If you’re real good and say your prayers and brush your teeth.”

Dooney laughed again and fluttered a jeweled hand. The diamonds caught the light and sparked, like fire coming from her fingers. “I shall try my very best. It’s been quite some time since a child had Christmas in this house.”

Her voice trailed away. For a long moment, she seemed lost in the fireplace flames.

Had a child once laughed and played in this quiet old mansion? Had something happened? Was that why Dooney had looked so sad just now?

“Mommy, I need to go potty.”

The countess came out of her reverie and offered Braden an indulgent look. “Ready to see your room? It has its own private bathroom and includes a container of bubbles for the spa.”

At Braden’s eager nod, Dooney showed them upstairs to a room decorated in Wedgewood blue and white. “This suite is one of my largest with a bit of play space for Braden and two sleeping areas. What do you think?”

“This is perfect.” Immaculate. She’d have to keep a close rein on her son.

Fine age lines smoothed into a smile as the countess tugged the stole closer about her shoulders. “I’ll leave you to get settled. The notebook beside the television contains a directory of information about the house, breakfast and dining options in the area and such. If you require anything else, let me know.”

“Thank you, again, countess.”

“Dooney.” She winked. Were those false eyelashes? “At some point, we must have tea, and you must tell me about you and our delicious soldier.”

“Wyatt’s only a friend.”

Dooney laughed, a lilting sound meant for elegant drawing rooms and blue-blood parties. “I am a romantic, dear one, and I see far more than friendship brewing between the two of you.”

“That’s not possible.”

“No? Perhaps, I’m mistaken then, but beneath his serious, sometimes mysterious demeanor, Wyatt Caldwell has something very special. The woman fortunate enough to capture his heart will be fortunate indeed.”

She left them, then, her words ringing in Marley’s ears like warning bells on a stormy sea.

She liked Wyatt. And right now, she needed him. Temporarily, the way a ship needs an anchor. That’s as far as she dared let things go.

No matter what her son and her heart might be saying.