Wanted: Ghost-Busting Bride

  She shut off her inner critic, the one telling her that this new craving spelled trouble. She didn’t care. When he increased the pressure of his lips, she opened her mouth like a sex-starved teenager and pressed closer. Stretching up on her tiptoes, she brazenly plunged her fingers into his silky hair to lock their lips together.

  His hands slipped down her back, skimming her waist before a quick tug separated her shirt from her jeans. His strong fingers on her bare back felt scrumptious. She arched into him, brushing her breasts against his chest.

  His amazing massage encouraged her to run her hands down his back and jerk his shirt out of his jeans. As her hands stroked his bare skin, his sculpted muscles bunched and flexed. His hard arousal pressed into her stomach, sending a surge of feminine triumph through her. Who knew surrender could be so empowering?

  Spurred by her success, she slipped her fingers up under his shirt and swirled them through the coarse, curly hair covering the hard muscles of his chest. When her hand traveled downward, tracing the hair toward his jeans, he moaned and grabbed her wrists. Stepping away from her, he kept a tight hold on her.

  “Before I exhaust my control and throw us both down in the coal dust, we’d better halt.”

  Embarrassed, she jerked out of his grasp. Why had she let this man get under her skin and torture her? Thankfully a green light flickered near her flashlight, giving her an excuse to bend down and grab the metal. Why had she foolishly flirted with Markham? The suave charmer would use the steamy kiss to convince her she wanted to be his wife.

  She whacked the flashlight against her thigh, hoping to erase the hunger still sizzling though her body. The beam flickered on, but her appetite refused to die. Chancing one last steamy look before she fled, she swung her beam toward Markham.

  Two green eyes sparkled out of a soot-covered face, hardly the handsome Earl she’d pictured in the dark. Laughter spilled out of her along with the pent-up tension. “If I’m as filthy as you, I think we’d better go upstairs and find some water.”

  Chapter 9

  What had happened? Spencer blinked, reliving the explosive passion that had ignited between them. He had to rethink his entire life. There was no way he was going to leave Kailyn at Ryne to oversee the castle renovations while he headed back to London alone.

  Somehow he had to convince this passionate, intelligent woman to be his wife—fully. He’d never felt such a connection in his life. And he wasn’t going to lose it.

  Energized, he hurried for the dungeon steps, leaving the broken lantern on the floor and towing Kailyn behind him. “Let’s go to the kitchen. Mrs. Chadwick will scrounge up some rags.”

  “Slow down, or let me go.”

  Immediately he stopped, and she plowed into him just as he expected. Twisting, he caught her in his arms. “For a quick kiss, I’ll consider a slow walk.”

  For a second, he thought she’d smack him. Surprisingly she bounced onto her toes, pecked his cheek and retreated before he could react. Framing her face with his hands, he shook his head. “Not enough. I need more persuasion.”

  “Sorry.” She pulled free and darted up the steps, two at a time.

  Well blast. This might be stickier than he’d anticipated, but he couldn’t be wrong. She hadn’t merely accepted his kisses in the dungeon. She’d fiercely taken and given during their sizzling exchange.

  He caught her by her shirttail before she opened the kitchen door. “You’ll want to tuck this in. We don’t want to totally shock the staff.”

  Her blue eyes widened. Jerkily she stuffed the tee shirt inside the jeans. It was the first time she’d taken his advice without sass. She was such an adorable mess, but how would the staff react? Leading Kailyn through the kitchen door, he held his breath.

  All work and conversation stopped as the cook and her helpers gawked.

  When his housekeeper bustled in with a tea tray, Kailyn held out her hands. “In our exploration of the dungeon, I awkwardly tipped over an old coal bucket. I’ve managed to cover his lordship and myself with ashes and soot. Where’s the best place for us to clean up without ruining dinner preparations?”

  Mrs. Chadwick set the tea tray on the nearest counter and disappeared into the pantry. Cook left the pastry half rolled on the table and rushed to the sink, barking orders for her helper to fetch the soap.

  Spencer exhaled. He shouldn’t have doubted Lady Anne’s choice. Kailyn had handled the sticky situation with the right balance of humor and authority.

  His future countess, however, looked staggered by his staff’s helpfulness. She quickly wiped off her face and motioned him to the sink with her right hand.

  Mrs. Chadwick squealed. “It’s the ring! It’s Lady Anne’s ring,”

  The kitchen staff swooped in around Kailyn.

  In the middle of the hubbub, she stood frozen with her hand extended in front of her. A gigantic emerald twinkled on her right ring finger.

  Shocked, Kailyn immediately tried to remove the ring. “I don’t know where this came from, but I can’t get it off.”

  She twisted to glare at him.

  He waved his hand, sending his staff off to work. “Mrs. Chadwick, will you kindly verify this second sign?”

  Hiding her hand, Kailyn puffed up like a bristly porcupine. “You slipped this showy ring on my finger when the lights went out in the dungeon. Admit it.”

  “Don’t fret, my lady. Let me look at it for a minute.”

  Even though Mrs. Chadwick’s soothing tones had little effect on Kailyn’s temper, the housekeeper managed to snag the younger woman’s hand. During the inspection, Kailyn’s fiery blue eyes scorched him.

  He held out his hands and shrugged. “It’s not my fault you insisted on exploring the dungeon. I warned you Lady Anne might make an appearance.” It wasn’t the wisest time to taunt her, but he couldn’t resist. Teasing her had become his favorite sport.

  His smiling housekeeper turned to him. “The sign has been confirmed.”

  Kailyn shook her head. “What are you talking about, Mrs. Chadwick? You pressed on the sides of the band, and it opened up. If you’ll release it again, I’ll slip my finger out.”

  His housekeeper patted Kailyn’s hand. “No, luv. I simply needed to test the ring to make sure it belonged to Lady Anne. Because you couldn’t slip it off when I loosened the catches, the sign has been fulfilled.”

  Spencer took Kailyn’s hand in both of his and kissed her knuckle above the emerald. “Lady Anne gifted you with the ring. It’s yours to wear until the next countess is selected.”

  The sweetest, most dumfounded expression he’d ever seen crossed her face.

  “What am I to do?” she asked, confused. “This ring is worth a fortune. I can’t leave it on my finger.”

  “Wear it until you perform the task Lady Anne requests,” Spencer replied.

  “Don’t start with that marriage crap again. I’m not ready to agree to marry you.” She tugged her hand free and stalked out of the kitchen.

  Kailyn scowled and twisted the ring around her finger. She’d remove the confounded thing with soap or, if nothing else worked, she’d go to a jeweler and have it cut off. No ghost could dictate the lives of the living, especially not her life!

  She sprinted up the stairs toward the east turret’s tiny bathroom. Why had Markham targeted her for his bride? She didn’t have money or social connections. Although she intended to be an expert in structural design, she hadn’t gained any fame yet. She certainly wasn’t a diva, a movie star or a model. No rich man would trap her with an extreme snare. Markham just had to have a screw loose.

  If she hadn’t let the demented man taunt her about her ghost theory, she wouldn’t have fallen into his arms in the dungeon. Flinging the bathroom door open, she crossed to the sink.

  No wonder he thought she was willing to marry him. As soon as the lights went out, she’d gone wild. His first thrilling touch had shattered her common sense and spun her into a world of urgent longing only he could fulfill.

  Angry
with herself, she splashed cold water over her hand, then rotated the bar of soap until suds spewed in all directions. Twisting and tugging on the ring, she played around with ways to resist Markham’s advances.

  Snap a rubber band on her wrist every time she thought about the sexy scoundrel. Nah. She’d either forget to pop it or leave a horrendous bruise and still want the man. Picture him in pink-and-purple-polka-dotted underwear. Definitely not. The temptation to strip it off him would be too strong. Focus on outlandish renovations to the castle. Might work. She’d try it at the next opportunity.

  Despite turning the sink into a chilly bubble bath, she couldn’t get the blasted ring off her finger. What she needed was an extra pair of hands.

  When she heard footsteps in the hall, she stuck her head out the door and called to Markham’s sister, Nell. “Could you come here for a moment? I need help.”

  Surprise flitted across Nell’s pale face. Her gaze flipped from Kailyn’s soot-covered clothing to the soap-lathered basin. “Perhaps you’d better explain the problem.”

  “I’ve got to get this ring off.” Kailyn thrust out her right hand. “Mrs. Chadwick pressed on the sides and the band enlarged. You pinch the ring, while I use the soap.”

  Nell simply shook her head but squeezed the ring. Even though Kailyn created a ton of slippery bubbles, nothing happened.

  Markham’s sister finally released the emerald. “I’m afraid you’re fated to wear the ring forever, Miss Baker.”

  “Nooo.” Kailyn pulled on the ring until her finger turned purple. She really didn’t need a large, heavy, in-your-face emerald on her hand. It only reminded her that a simple job interview had morphed into a whacky amorous ambush.

  With growing interest, Nell watched Kailyn’s useless effort to remove the ring. “You must be right for my brother.”

  At Nell’s comment, she stiffened. “I wish I’d never listened to Crystal and put in my resume at Markham and Martin.”

  “Don’t be too hard on yourself.” Nell crossed to a cabinet. “If you hadn’t applied for the job, Crystal would have dragged you across the ocean somehow. After the disaster of Sebastian’s deception, Aunt Sophie invited Crystal and John to spend a week with us. You know how Crystal claims to talk with ghosts. She seemed the perfect solution to finding the ghost-busting bride Lady Anne wanted.”

  She returned to the sink and handed Kailyn the two large bath towels she’d collected from the cabinet. “Crystal spent hours studying everything about Lady Anne, even holding a séance to talk with her. When Crystal left, she promised to deliver the person who would be perfect for Spencer. You are the one she sent.”

  Kailyn stared at a crack in the wall and imagined the most dastardly, long, painful revenge she could inflict on Crystal as soon as she landed in Dallas. Her sneaky friend hadn’t even given her a heads up on the fake job interview and the interfering ghost.

  Nell turned on the water in the old-fashioned tub. “A soak will make you feel better. From now on, watch your back. The women have shown more nastiness during this festival than ever before. Some would go to any extreme to take your place. Don’t let that happen.” She left the room, closing the door softly behind her.

  Kailyn sank into the warm water and closed her eyes. If she could get past her anger at Crystal’s conniving, maybe she could decipher her nutty friend’s strategy. Instead of welcome logic, doubts bombarded her.

  Her off-the-wall friend helped find missing objects and missing people, solved clever mysteries and dabbled in matchmaking. She claimed her solutions came from talking with ghosts. Kailyn had doubted the ghost part until now, but she couldn’t deny Crystal’s ninety percent success rate. If she had set her up to marry Markham, Kailyn might have to brush up on her wedding etiquette. It looked like Lady Anne had a very willing conspirator promoting the marriage.

  She sank deeper into the water.

  For about two minutes, she managed to block out more worries before recalling Allison’s revelation about the paranormal expedition. She didn’t doubt the university physics team’s findings about two ghosts at Ryne Castle. What bothered her was the scope of what Lady Anne seemed to be able to do. What kind of woman had Lady Anne been? How could her curses last five hundred years? She would have to figure out a way to interview Lady Anne.

  Fed up with ghostly questions and no answers, Kailyn left the bath tub and walked back to her room wrapped only in a towel.

  “Oh, crap!” Her skimpy covering slipped out of her hands when she opened the door. Her room looked like a tornado had hit it.

  “What happened?”

  She jumped at Markham’s incredulous question, grabbed the towel and knotted it tightly around her before whirling to face her unwelcome guest. “Haven’t you ever heard of knocking before barging into a room?”

  “Not when you leave the door open and your room has been ransacked.” Spencer skirted the toppled antique trunk, the hideous tangle of fluff and spangles in the center of the floor and stopped by the desk. “Who did this?”

  Two can play the blame a ghost for every unexplained event game, she thought smugly. “I think the ghost did it. Lady Anne must want me to leave.”

  “Lady Anne would never have torn the rose apart petal by petal and dumped it on the windowsill.” He opened the cover of her malfunctioning computer which sat undisturbed on the desk.

  Peeking around his shoulder, she gazed at the screen. In ruby-red lipstick, someone had written a message in a flowery script. “What does it say? I can’t read it.”

  “Leave while thou still breathe. Ryne is doomed.” With each word, Spencer’s tone grew more clipped. Snapping the computer shut, he scowled. “You must move to a more secure section of the castle. The countess’s apartment ought to suffice.”

  “No way. You’re carrying this charade too far.” Whatever trick the arrogant man had in mind, she wasn’t buying it this time.

  He looked affronted. “Do you actually believe I did this, or ordered it done? I didn’t. Kailyn, this second attack shows you’re in danger. You need to change rooms.”

  “No way. I see no reason to do that. I was just joking about the ghost. Probably one of those jealous bride quest women wrecked my room to scare me away.”

  She pointed to the contents of her suitcase now decorating her bed. “I can clean up this mess in thirty minutes if you’ll leave so I can get dressed.” No nasty threat would send her packing. She wasn’t leaving for another five days. She’d already put up with too much to throw the job away over an empty warning.

  Affront changed to appreciation as Markham’s gaze slowly raked over her from head to toe. When his green eyes darkened dangerously, she wished she hadn’t called attention to her lack of clothes. Before she did something stupid, she had to get him out of the room.

  “Give me two minutes to put something on. Then you can argue your case.”

  He bent forward and kissed her bare shoulder. His breath tickled her neck as he murmured, “Don’t linger. I’ll be waiting. Two minutes.”

  Too shocked to move, she watched him close the door before she started to breathe again. Unfortunately, pawing through the jumble of clothes on the bed didn’t unearth underwear, a tee shirt, jeans or her flip-flops.

  “Two minutes.” Markham called through the closed door. “Are you decent?”

  “No. I can’t locate anything.” She shoved aside the heap of gadgets on her bed to grab her suit pants and the tee shirt she wore to sleep in. Forget the underwear.

  “You need help?”

  “Nooo. Just more time.” Hopping on one foot, she scrambled into her pants then pulled on the baggy shirt. Heart pounding, she opened the door. “Explain why you’re so upset. It’s just a prank to make me leave.”

  “You were more correct about the culprit when you blamed a ghost.” Markham brushed by her and opened her computer. “This message is an omen. Our second resident ghost, Desdemona, seems to be intent on stopping our marriage.”

  “I’m not marrying you.” She felt
like pulling her hair out. “Tell both of your psycho ghosts to leave me alone.”

  “It doesn’t work that way. I have no power over Lady Anne or Desdemona. The two are battling for control of Ryne, and we’re caught in the middle. When Lady Anne wins the campaign, Ryne prospers. When Desdemona wins, Ryne deteriorates.”

  Stunned, Kailyn sank onto the bed. “I read that little book on Ryne’s history. It doesn’t paint a rosy picture for the future.” She looked somberly up at Markham. “The earls tended to be either magnificent successes or dismal failures. The ghosts have enormous power if they’re responsible for the earls’ fates.” She paused, thinking. “Does Desdemona give off a red glow?”

  “I hadn’t thought about it, but the ghost pimples were red.” Brows furrowed, he pulled the desk chair in front of her and sat down. “You might be on to something . . . ” His eyes glittered as he looked at her. “Have you seen a red light?”

  Kailyn had to blink to break the spell of his gaze. “Wait a minute. What are ghost pimples?”

  Markham waved his hand. “Blisters cured by drinking nasty green slime. Tell me about the red light.”

  Oh my God. This was worse than she’d realized. After a deep breath, she described the experience with Helena at the ruins. When she reached the part about the green and red sparks fighting for control of Helena, Markham exploded off the chair.

  “You no longer have any choice in this matter.” He grabbed her wrist and hauled her off the bed. “You’re moving to the countess’s suite now. Don’t give me any cheek, or you’ll be moving into my apartment where I can keep track of you twenty-four-seven.”

  She planted her feet and grabbed the doorjamb with her free hand. “I will not be towed through the castle like an unruly toddler.”

  Markham stopped when she refused to budge. He must have seen the determination in her face because he asked through gritted teeth, “Will you allow me to escort you to your new room in the family wing of the castle?”