by Lexi Post
Masque
Lexi Post
Rena Mills plans to turn an abbey into a haunted bed-and-breakfast, proving she can be successful without her ex-fiancé. Inside the abandoned building, she finds Synn MacAllistair, the distinguished, self-proclaimed Ghost Keeper, and soon her dreams fill with sexual cravings for the man. At least, she thinks they’re dreams…
Synn is determined to free the souls of resident spirits, blaming himself for bringing the Red Death that killed them. When Rena steps into the old Pleasure Palace, he’s sure he can stoke her passion to complete the Masque, allowing the souls to cross over. Her innocent fire makes him crave, but it’s far too late for him.
As Rena begins an erotic journey, her heart becomes more involved with every sensual caress—until she discovers that, by completing the Masque, she’ll lose her ghosts. Synn’s betrayal wars with compassion for her ghostly friends. Torn, she must make a choice between financial security and freeing seventy-three souls. Either way, she could lose Synn.
Inside Scoop: As our heroine makes her way through the Pleasure Rooms, she experiences a brief ménage, as well as an encounter with another woman. Lucky girl.
A Romantica® paranormal erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave
Masque
Lexi Post
Author’s Note
Masque was inspired by Edgar Allan Poe’s short story, The Masque of the Red Death, first published in 1842. In Poe’s story, Prince Prospero seeks to escape the Red Death by gathering his aristocratic friends and sealing them off from the rest of the town in a great abbey, leaving his other subjects to live or die as fate decrees. On the night of the prince’s Masque, which is held in his seven colored entertainment rooms, when the great clock in the Black Room strikes midnight, a figure enters the party in a mask resembling a victim of the Red Death. When the prince attempts to kill the intruder for such audacity as to remind them all of the sad state of affairs outside, the prince falls dead, as does everyone else in the abbey, and the clock ceases.
But what if the intruder had been a friend who hoped to sway the prince to do what was right by his people, only to have everything go wrong?
Acknowledgments
For Bob Fabich, my better half, my biggest supporter, and the love of my life. And for my sister Paige Wood for reading every manuscript I have ever written, even those that will never see the light of day.
To Jennifer Ashley/Allyson James for her wonderful advice, her unwavering encouragement, and for setting such a great example. Thank you.
This story was made possible due to the shrewd eyes of my critique partner Marie Patrick who kept asking for more, my agent Jill Marsal who provided me with excellent suggestions, and my kind and patient editor Grace Bradley. I have learned so much from all of you.
Chapter One
Cape Breton, Nova Scotia
People. Living, breathing people.
Synn MacAllistair grasped the embrasure of the parapet, his heart thudding as he stared at the vehicle crossing the stone bridge over the moat. It came to a stop at Ashton Abbey’s massive gate.
He waited. The great iron grille, chained and padlocked against intruders, would be considered a significant deterrent to entering. Open it. Damn it, open it!
The vehicle remained stationary. No one exited the large red monstrosity.
Impatiently, he pushed away his hair as the breeze whipped it across his view. What were they waiting for? If they needed an axe to break the chain, he’d gladly provide them with one.
Another smaller vehicle rolling parallel to the west wall caught his attention. It crossed the bridge and parked behind the larger one. More people?
A man stepped from the small conveyance and shuffled to the gate. Synn leaned farther over the battlement, anxious to see if their time had come. The joyful sound of clanking chains floated up to him on the breeze.
Finally! About bloody time. He swallowed hard to keep the yell of triumph from escaping his throat. No need to scare their new guests.
The man below hurried back to his transport and, without hesitation, backed across the bridge and left faster than he’d arrived.
Synn peered down at the red vehicle, still as a brick, its black windows making it impossible to see inside. A door opened and a woman burst onto the cobblestone entrance. She bent over and spoke to someone else still inside. Her blonde hair hid her face, but her ass, covered in men’s trousers, was small, her legs lanky. A woman? A woman dared enter a haunted abbey? He tried to grasp the concept.
His plan was to convince a man to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh, but there had to be a man to convince…unless a couple entered the Abbey. Couples enjoyed the Pleasure Rooms as well. If he could persuade a couple to participate in the Masque then his companions could still be freed.
Peering hard, he watched and waited. After what seemed another decade, a door on the other side of the red contraption opened. He held his breath, willing the occupant to have broad shoulders, a beard, anything to indicate a man.
A long, slender leg stretched out, a black high-heel shoe of delicate design at its end, and a feminine hand grasped the side, but remained stationary.
He growled with frustration. “Bloody hell. What am I supposed to do with two women?” He hadn’t expected women. The Abbey overflowed with spirits. Only men should dare enter. How were blasted women going to help him? He paced away from the wall, but quickly returned. Could there be more people inside the vehicle?
He waited, his patience long gone, not that he ever had much, but damn, it’d been a hundred and fifty years. That would strain the patience of an archangel, something he definitely was not.
He glared as the leg moved and within a moment’s breath, the woman unfolded herself from the conveyance.
Synn stared, frozen in time for once, drinking in a beauty far surpassing any painted Aphrodite he’d ever gazed upon. Her long, wavy brown hair captured the sun, shining like fine brandy. Her figure, as lush as any Greek goddess, swayed sensuously in her short dress. Her arms were bare and the smallest of noses held her dark glasses in place. He stepped back, away from the crenellation, his heart racing, his mind whirling with ideas.
He paced the length of the wall. A vision was about to enter his stone prison. A woman fit to be worshiped with every salacious touch he’d ever learned. His cock hardened beneath his pantaloons. Amazed, he stopped and looked down at it. After so many years of having no needs—for food, for sleep, for relieving himself—the last he’d expected to feel was the need for a woman. He shook his head. It defied logic. But if his body could respond, then he could participate, guide a woman through the Masque.
The creaking hinges of the gate brought him back to the wall to see the backs of the two women entering the Abbey courtyard. Two women. Vivid memories of his happier days with the prince caught him by surprise and gave him hope. As he strode across the wall-walk and down the stone staircase, his mind raced with possibilities. One after another they were discarded as he floated to the landing on the second floor. But a new plan began to form as the great pine doors opened.
If she hadn’t been in heels, Rena Mills would have jumped over the threshold as she and Valerie pushed open the twelve-foot doors of Ashton Abbey. Their creaking sound didn’t bother her. In fact, she’d be sure those hinges never saw oil for the rest of their days. They made a perfect first impression for a haunted bed-and-breakfast.
Valerie shook her head. “You love that noise, don’t you?”
Rena grinned sheepishly as she stepped into the two-story stone entry the size of her parents’ house and spread her arms wide. “It’s perfect. I can’t believe it. I’m actually going to make this happen. Can’t you see it, Valerie?”
Her friend raised her eyebrow. “If you say so.”
“I do.” She exami
ned the stone floor beneath her feet before touching a wall. The hard rock under her fingers was cool and rough. Her stomach somersaulted as success filled her veins. She could do this. Ashton Abbey resembled a castle and tourists would love staying here. All she needed was a little plumbing, a little electricity, a functioning kitchen, and a few ghosts. “Seriously, Val. You can see the potential, right?”
Valerie gave her a hard look. “You don’t have to do this, Ree. You don’t have to prove anything. That jerk is full of himself. So all your success has come while working at your family’s company or at Bryce’s. That’s simply because you are a good event planner. Look at me. I’ve worked for my dad’s company all my life. That doesn’t mean I don’t know my shit.”
“It’s not about Bryce. I have to prove this to myself.” She wished Valerie could understand.
Her friend threw up her hands and stalked away. The woman was too confident to have any idea how it felt to be unsure. Rena sighed. The fact was, her ex-fiancé had a point. All her jobs had been obtained through her parents or him. After two months of being out of work, this was her only option. Now she had to make her new haunted abbey into a successful bed-and-breakfast, not simply to prove she could, but because she had every last penny on the line.
As she perused the large entry with its double staircase leading to the next floor, her jubilance returned. The abandoned building was so much more than she’d expected for the price. She looked up at the semicircle windows near the ceiling, which let in sunlight, but she didn’t see any spirits. “I hope the real estate agent hadn’t exaggerated about the ghosts. If this place hasn’t sold because it’s haunted, then I better see some dead people pretty darn fast.”
“Uh, Rena?”
She glanced behind her to see Valerie had stepped into the next room. Turning, she strode through the doorway to find a grand dining room, with green-and-gold paisley wallpaper. She stopped and smiled. “Oh, this is too good to be true.” Valerie had pulled aside one of the curtains from the fifteen-foot windows to let in the sun, and it reflected off an elegantly set table.
“Over here.”
Her friend stood at the head of the table, a deep frown on her face. “What is it? Did you find something?” She started down the length of the long table set to feed twenty-four. Her stomach twitched with excitement at the sight. She stopped to look at the place setting Valerie stared at. “What am I looking for?”
Valerie shook her head. “Do you see anything unusual here?”
She peered at the setting. The silverware had an elaborate P etched into it, but other than the fact it had multiple plates as if set for a formal occasion, she saw nothing out of the ordinary. “No. Should I?”
Valerie sighed and crossed her arms over her small bosom. “How long has this place been empty?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Over a hundred years or so? From what I hear, colored lights can be seen shining from the windows at night, but there’s no electricity. I guess the Abbey got lucky with ghosts and I’m going to make that work for us.”
“And is there a caretaker of some sort?”
“There is one family here who has taken care of the grounds for eons. I can’t remember their names, but it’s an old widower and his son. Why?”
Valerie dragged her finger across the plate. “Do they take care of the inside as well?”
“No, we are the only ones to enter inside these walls in a hundred and fifty years. Isn’t that amazing? Why, what are you getting at?”
Valerie lifted her finger in front of Rena’s eyes. “Then why is there no dust?”
Her brain came to a halt as she grasped Valerie’s point. Taking another look around the room, she saw no cobwebs, no dust, not even a chair out of place. She returned her gaze to Valerie. “Clean ghosts?”
Valerie raised her brow. “Did you read about that in your research?”
Rena picked up the plate and examined it, not comfortable meeting her friend’s eyes. “No, but I didn’t exactly do research. I watched a few shows on television and discovered people will pay to go to a haunted hotel. There has to be an explanation. Maybe someone has been living here and no one realized it.”
Valerie crossed the room to the windows. “You mean behind the padlocked gate?”
She joined her friend, puzzled, ready to believe in ghosts who cleaned. “What are you looking at?”
“These curtains. If they’re a hundred years old, shouldn’t they be dry-rotted and in shreds?”
A shiver ran across Rena’s skin. “Oh, damn. This is stranger than a simple haunting.” She ran her hand along the forest-green velvet of the curtain. The material, strong and thick, had a beige cotton backing. This didn’t make any sense. She turned to examine the rest of the room. The chairs around the massive table also had velvet in their backs. She stepped closer to one and ran her hand over the material. The softness was irresistible…and new.
She paused. “It’s as if time has no meaning inside these walls. I wonder if the place is bewitched as well as haunted!”
Valerie gave her one of her deprecating smiles. “And why is it haunted?”
She grinned. She couldn’t help it. The more she saw of the Abbey, the more convinced she was that she could make it profitable. “It had something to do with the Red Death that swept through this town around 1861. I read that it could take a life within thirty minutes of exposure.”
“Hmmm, that would explain a haunted town.” Valerie ran her hand along the fireplace mantle. “But why is the Abbey the only place haunted? There has to be more to it than that. Maybe a monk bargained for a life and they all ended up dead?”
Even more sure now than the night she’d watched the documentary on haunted hotels, Rena headed for the door at the end of the room, the clacking of her heels echoing across the room. “I don’t know, but I plan to find out. I will need a history of this place to put up on the website.”
Valerie followed. “That will work. It’s a good thing you’re rid of Bryce. He’d find a reasonable, logical explanation for this and take all the fun out of it.”
Rena stopped in her tracks, causing Valerie to bump into her. “Ugh. Thanks for ruining my mood again, Val.”
“Hey, it’s true. You are so lucky to be rid of him. Are you ready yet to tell me why he broke off the engagement? There’s no one to overhear but the ghosts.”
She faced her friend, aware that her heartache shone in her eyes, but it was too raw, too humiliating still. “I can’t. Not yet. Okay?”
Valerie gave her a quick hug. “Of course. But remember, I’m your best friend and you will have to tell me eventually.”
She nodded, but her excitement for the Abbey had left. “Why don’t we bring our luggage in and find bedrooms? If we have to buy blow-up mattresses, I’d rather know now instead of tonight when the place is pitch black and all we have are our lanterns.”
“You got it. And maybe we’ll run into a ghost in the process.”
Valerie’s smile was contagious and Rena grinned, her upbeat spirit making a quick return. “We better, or this haunted bed-and-breakfast idea will be a complete bust.”
Synn ducked around the doorway as the ladies turned toward the entry once again. He let the slender blonde pass through, but he couldn’t resist touching the other one. Lightly, so as not to frighten her, he brushed his fingers across her bare shoulder.
“What?” She turned, looking about.
The scent of dusky, tart pomegranate wafted by his nose. His body responded with an overwhelming need to touch her again. He craved her smoothness like a pickpocket coveted a half-dollar. When had he last craved anything? He tamped down his own interest. It was of little importance. This woman would be their freedom.
“Rena, are you coming?”
With her smile wide and full of joy, she followed after her friend. “You are not going to believe this, but a ghost just touched me.”
That she hadn’t run in fear confirmed his belief she could be the answer. Rena. He liked her
name.
Her hips swayed with her quick pace, her energy palpable. Would she have that kind of liveliness in bed?
As she crossed the threshold to the outside, his gut tightened in panic. She couldn’t leave. Not now!
Synn ran to the open door and stopped, the memory of his last venture outside freezing his limbs in place. He couldn’t leave the Abbey or he’d cease to exist. He needed to calm himself. Too much was at stake.
The women pulled belongings from their conveyance. They should have allowed the servants to do that kind of work. When they turned to enter again, he blended back into the wall, his stomach relaxing at their entrance.
The blonde dropped her bags. “Okay, I’ll take the stairway to the left and you take the one on the right.”
Rena glanced upward. “Great. If you see anything unusual, yell. I want to see a ghost.”
“Believe me, you’ll know if I see one.”
As the two ascended the grand stairways, Synn followed. He glanced around, surprised Mrs. McMurray hadn’t appeared yet. Not that he minded. Their two guests seemed to be open to the spirits who lived here, but he hoped they could settle in first. At least until he introduced himself, and the way he wanted to introduce himself had his cock paying attention.
Rena headed down the hallway on the second floor, opening doors and looking inside. Her mumbled words made her opinions of each room clear. Everything from “hideous” to “extraordinary” passed by her lips. Lips, full and red, with no rouge, begged for a kiss.
When she had passed judgment on all the rooms, she returned to the one second from the stairs. He tried to ignore the fact she stood outside the bedroom next to his. It appeared fate continued to play with him.
He followed her inside as she gave the bedroom a thorough inspection. He could not fault her taste. Decorated in pale yellows and deep purples, it suited her. When she moved next to the large four-poster bed, he couldn’t resist standing behind her, inhaling her unique scent. Her hand touched the quilt, and he ran his fingers along her bare arm, wanting more than anything to turn her around and kiss her.