Wanted: Ghost-Busting Bride

  No. She hadn’t exactly asked permission. If Markham didn’t know about the ghost hunt, he couldn’t forbid her to challenge Desdemona. “You didn’t have to follow me. I just needed the location of the second ghost from you.”

  “No way would I miss out on an opportunity to see the ghost in action.” Allison patted her pink-flowered vest—stuffed with ghost-hunting tools—and giggled.

  “Stay back. Desdemona isn’t noted for being nice.”

  The rickety door hung by one hinge. It creaked ominously as if agreeing with her opinion of the ghost’s nasty temper.

  Kailyn gritted her teeth, crouched and gripped the bottle of hair gel in two hands. Aiming the nozzle at the opening, she crept forward. Thanks to Mrs. Simms’s fancy hairdos, she had a ghost-retardant as a weapon. “Can you get a reading on Desdemona?”

  “Yes, her energy surrounds the door.”

  Kailyn’s heart thundered in her chest. She flattened against the wall and kicked the wobbly portal. It groaned, but didn’t budge. Squatting down, she picked up a thick branch then jammed it into the crack between the doorjamb and the rotten wood.

  A foul-smelling blast of cold air knocked her into a thorn bush, while peals of thunder boomed overhead. Despite the sharp barbs digging into her flesh, she pointed the bottle toward the gusting air and squirted.

  “Tell me where to point the camera,” Allison shouted above the noise.

  “At the bottom of the door.” She watched a flat glob of now-red hair gel slither under the splintered wood. If she could tear free of the blasted thorns, she’d be able to corner her rival. The goo had stopped Desdemona’s attack.

  “Desdemona, I’m not here to harm you,” she yelled. “I want to know why you plague the earls of Ryne Castle.”

  “Lady Anne stole my rightful station,” thundered the hoarse voice Kailyn had first heard at the ruins.

  How do you restore social status to a five-hundred-year-old ghost? “You became a countess. What more do you want?”

  “A position worthy of my heritage. But history cannot be altered.”

  The whole tower above her head started to shake until stones hurtled down at them.

  “Lady Anne, help.” Pushing Allison in front of her, Kailyn dashed for the garden, dodging boulders.

  Suddenly the ground stopped shaking, and the roar of thunder ceased. Breathing hard, she halted as Allison slumped onto the stone bench. A shimmering green glow surrounded both of them. The last flying rock fell harmlessly at their feet.

  “Allison,” Kailyn gasped. “Your camera.” Snatching it, Kailyn snapped a picture of Lady Anne.

  Chapter 14

  Kailyn gritted her teeth as she twisted in front of the mirror. The long-sleeved coral gown Mrs. Simms had chosen for Kailyn’s dinner attire hid her scratches, but not the pain. A cascade of curls covered the huge scrape on the back of her neck—if she didn’t swing her hair or turn her head. Markham would never guess she’d confronted Desdemona on her own.

  As he pulled her chair out to seat her for the meal, his breath tickled her cheek. “Neither you nor Allison played croquet this afternoon. What mischief did you two find?”

  Employing her bimbo act, she batted her eyes innocently. “Allison and I wandered in the garden.” She sank gingerly onto the chair and bit back a grimace. “I picked her brain on the ghost study she completed last summer.”

  “I’ll expect full details later.” His tone left no doubt he was suspicious.

  Thank heavens he didn’t have x-ray eyes. He’d turn into His Huffiness and start ordering her around again. “Allison simply confirmed that there were two ghosts. One in the gallery and one in the west tower.”

  “So that’s why the ground shook and I heard thunder?” Leaning back in his chair, he steepled his fingers. “We’ll discuss this later.”

  Oh crap. The scoundrel wasn’t fooled. She’d better start thinking of a sanitized report to give him.

  After dinner, Allison caught her arm as they followed a group of women to the music room. “With all of our ghost-hunting activities, I didn’t have time to practice for tonight’s performance. Did you?”

  “What performance?” Kailyn whipped around to glare at her friend, sending sharp jabs of pain shooting down her spine. “Why didn’t you mention this when we were putting the ghosts’ pictures on my computer.”

  “Because those pictures were awesome.” When Kailyn scowled at her, Allison simply shrugged. “Who knew a ghost dripping with goo could look hilarious. Although I’m positive Desdemona wouldn’t approve. She’d like the picture of her with her arms outstretched summoning the rocks down on our heads.”

  “Shh, Markham will hear you. He’s already doubting my story.”

  “Okay, back to tonight’s musicale.” Allison’s eyes twinkled devilishly. “You’ve been given the prime spot right before the dessert break. All the women will be discussing your selection at intermission. What are you going to perform?”

  “Crap. I don’t know. I can’t play a piano.” For a moment she considered a quick detour to bed but nixed the idea. Markham would probably follow her to find out what was wrong. She really didn’t need another battle today.

  “Good thing my slot is right before yours. Maybe a duet would be in order. Do you sing?”

  “Yeah, like a croaking frog. Think again.”

  Allison doubled over with laughter. By the time her friend came up for air, Kailyn had steered them into the music room. An old-fashioned piano sat near the fireplace, surrounded by rows of chairs. “What are you going to do?”

  “I prepared a Hayden sonata. Even though I play the simplest version of it, I still stumble through some of the passages.”

  Kailyn glanced frantically around the room for inspiration. A small book of poetry sitting on the side table was just what she needed. “Hmmm. I have an idea how to make both of us shine.”

  After a detour to grab the book, she selected the two chairs farthest from the instrument and sat.

  Half an hour later, Lady Sedgewick signaled Allison to take center stage. Kailyn glanced at Markham. He winked and she stumbled, her stinking petticoat tangling around her ankles. The pesky layers of material threatened to topple her. If only she hadn’t landed in the thorn bush.

  Her scrapes had caused the competent Mrs. Simms to change gowns at the last minute. While the poor woman snipped off a ton of turquoise, pink and lime-green ribbons from the dress, Kailyn had laced the petticoats herself. The stupid laces hadn’t seemed that difficult at the time. Obviously she was mistaken. Grabbing both sides of her dress, she lifted the heavy mess and shuffled to the piano.

  Ignoring the throb of her stiff shoulders, she positioned the poem so she didn’t have to bend her neck. She avoided looking in Markham’s direction. Even a glance from him would flub up what little concentration she still retained.

  “Allison Lloyd graciously agreed to accompany me with a Hayden sonata. I will recite the Robert Frost poem ‘Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.’ I’m sure everyone will enjoy the early break.”

  With one hand she signaled Allison to begin and waited until her friend had played the introduction before reading the poem. The recital wasn’t professional, but she finished with reasonable competence. Allison stopped playing. Everyone—or at least almost everyone—applauded. It was over, and they’d survived. She grinned at Allison.

  As she moved to leave, Lady Sedgewick placed a hand on her arm. “That was lovely, my dear. Since the announcement of your engagement to Spencer, you’ve presented yourself like a countess. I’m so pleased.”

  “Thank you,” was all she could respond to the devastating complement.

  If she married Markham, the role of the countess would have to change. She refused to have a stiff neck all her life just to fit the image of his wife.

  Her quick escape into the hallway landed her in the middle of an argument between Markham and a furious Ginnette.

  “You can’t possibly call that fair,” the Markhams’ neighbor proteste
d. “It doesn’t take any talent to read from a book. It’s bad enough she didn’t perform solo, but to use a script is an insult to the rest of us.” A slight shimmer of red encased the enraged woman.

  Spencer stared down his nose at the ranting female who blocked his path. “Tonight’s performances are merely a fun activity to allow my guests to present their talents. Kailyn did just that.” His clipped British accent left no doubt he had no patience for Ginnette’s complaints.

  No way would Kailyn let Desdemona get close to him tonight. The ghost was probably still ticked from their run-in earlier. But the moment she tried to scoot near enough to take his hand, her tangled petticoat slithered down her calf and twisted around her ankles in an icy vice.

  She lunged for Markham, determined not to let the ghost stop her. Her feet slid in the opposite direction. An embarrassing yelp escaped her throat, and she threw her hands out in front of her. Just before she hit the floor, a well-muscled arm snaked around her waist, jerking her upright.

  A split-second later, a screech pierced the air and Ginnette sprawled at their feet. A suspicious green glow shimmered around the now-prone brunette. Thank goodness Lady Anne had joined the battle.

  “You little cheat,” Ginnette raged from her spot on the floor. “You did that on purpose. You think you’ve won, but my turn will come. You won’t survive your little games.” The red glow of Desdemona’s anger flew out of Ginnette. The woman went limp.

  Nell rushed out of the music room. “I’ll handle Ginnette. You take care of Kailyn.” The earl’s sister knelt beside the inert brunette.

  “Are you hurt?” Markham scooped Kailyn into his arms.

  It felt divine to rest her head on his shoulder and ease the sore muscles in her neck. “No new injuries.”

  Spencer hurried toward the back stairs, careful not to bump Kailyn. Her evasion rankled. He’d thought they were partners in this battle. “Out with it. What happened between you and Desdemona this afternoon?”

  “Nothing much.” Kailyn opened one eye but remained cuddled in his arms. “I asked her what she wanted, and she said a position worthy of her heritage.”

  He was going to cement Kailyn to his side. His five-foot, hundred-pound fiancée fought like an Amazon, but she needed to develop a healthy dose of fear. “Your behavior is foolish. Desdemona killed Lady Anne and is capable of striking again.”

  “The only way to get rid of Desdemona is to find out what keeps her tied to Ryne and solve the issue. Do you know her history?”

  His warning hadn’t fazed the spitfire, and her calm logic was driving him to madness. “Until this week, Desdemona’s tale has been well hidden by my family,” he snapped, opening her bedroom door.

  That irritating gotcha-look returned to her eyes. “I thought as much. So you can’t complain because I went to the source. My spray bottle of goo kept her theatrics under control.” She patted his arm and pointed to the bed, indicating he should put her down. “It was worth a few scratches to learn her weakness. She’s a frustrated diva. Somehow we have to find a way to use that against her.”

  “Desdemona is not playing a game, Kailyn. Her theatrics will kill you.” Even though his fiancée squirmed to be free, he stalked directly into the dressing room. “You’re not going anywhere until I check out your injuries.”

  Setting her down on the bench, he knelt on one knee, flipped her skirt up and tugged the twisted petticoat off. “You can get out of the dress, or I can take it off you. The choice is yours.”

  She swatted him away. “I’ll undress as soon as you leave and close the door.”

  “Not happening.” He held up her tank top and boxers. “These or naked. I’ll wait at the door with my back turned.”

  Picturesque mumbling accompanied the rustle of the dress. Suddenly a sharp inhale and a bitten-off groan made him wish he hadn’t promised to keep his back turned. No matter how much she denied it, she was hurting.

  “Okay, you can turn around.” The coral dress lay in a heap at her feet. With her head held high—looking every inch the pissed off princess—she defiantly held out her arms. “See, nothing but a few scratches from backing into a thorn bush.”

  The superficial red marks on her arms hadn’t caused her rigid posture tonight. “Turn around and let me see your back.”

  When she tried a quick spin, he caught her shoulders and flipped her hair out of the way. A ragged gash ran from her hairline to her right shoulder blade.

  “Aw, sweetheart.” He kissed her left shoulder. “I’m glad to see you at least let Mrs. Simms put medicine on it.”

  “If you’re over your snit, let me show you what I discovered about the phones.”

  The unrepentant minx pulled free and climbed onto the end of the old bench. He’d be insulted by her rejection if he hadn’t felt her soften in his arms when he kissed her shoulder. Without so much as a glance she dug into a box on the top shelf.

  “Lady Anne zapped the power connection because she was trying to show off her ghostly skills.” She handed him a crispy part before twisting to fish out two more charred hunks. “Desdemona fried the link to the ringers because we’d set the phones to call each other. That tells me the ghosts can only destroy the part that is energized at the moment.”

  “A brilliant display of trivia, but I don’t see how we can use it.” He dropped the ruined bits into her outstretched hand.

  With a huff, his little spitfire stomped her foot as she tossed the parts back in the box. Suddenly the old bench tilted on one leg. She toppled into his arms, knocking him flat.

  “Ooops. Sorry.” Sprawled on his chest, she stared down at him, eyes wide in surprise. The cute pink flush racing up her cheeks wiped out all thoughts of ghosts.

  “What an enchanting turn of events.” He wrapped his arms around her. “I’ve caught you twice in one night. I believe I deserve a reward for my efforts.”

  In response, his feisty ghost buster leaned forward and brushed her lips across his mouth. He threaded his fingers through her hair and held her close. Tasting her sweetness and sass, he longed to lock her in the Earl’s Suite until she promised to stay forever. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been so challenged by a female. And never by such a fetching tigress.

  A knock on the door jarred him out of the dream.

  “Your lordship,” the butler called through the closed door, “the guests are impatiently waiting for their dessert.”

  He pecked her cheek then called, “I’ll be out in a few minutes. Serve the desserts without me.” Then he whispered, “I have the best dessert right here.”

  Chapter 15

  Kailyn couldn’t believe she was already fifteen minutes late to breakfast. Lady Sedgewick had expressly requested the list of fête teams be in her hands before breakfast. And thanks to whichever ghost meddled this time, the ink had disappeared from her handwritten copy.

  Giving up, she typed the names into her computer one last time and pressed scramble. Of course, the crazed laptop placed Ginnette with the same timid, bird-brained women for each event—again. It wasn’t right, but it was the only list the computer would spit out. Grabbing the printout and the full skirt of her pink walking dress in one hand, she flung the door open.

  Markham lurked in the hallway.

  Worry about the stupid fête and its absurd events fled her mind. His green hunting coat, buff breeches and polished boots made her drool. He looked delectable. If she ended up marrying him, she’d make him role-play once in a while so she could keep things interesting.

  Banishing the sexy fantasy, she waved the paper under his nose. “I don’t know which ghost is controlling today’s show, but my computer is still haywire. It can’t even print a list in the order I want.”

  Markham caught her hand and kissed her knuckles. “It doesn’t sound like I’m going to get a good-morning kiss.” Placing her hand on his arm, he turned toward the stairs. “Perhaps breakfast will sweeten your mood.”

  His attempt to tease her out of her snit didn’t solve the probl
em of the disappearing ink and woo-woo magic that was sure to come back to bite her later today. “Don’t knock my crabby frame of mind. You don’t have to win a dippy contest while a ghost messes with you.”

  Markham stopped abruptly and looked up at the ceiling. “Tell me you know how to embroider, arrange flowers, sketch and shoot an arrow.” His clipped British accent left no doubt as to the importance he placed on such useless feminine skills.

  “Well, you’re in luck. I can win half of them. The other two, not a chance.”

  “Bolster your skill with creativity, but win. I don’t want to be stuck with Desdemona’s favorite at the ball.”

  “It’s not my fault you came up with these ridiculous activities.” She whirled to face him, poking her finger into his chest. “You stay away from any red glow. I’ll take care of the rest.”

  No one chatted at breakfast. She hurriedly scarfed down a few bites then strolled into the parlor. To avoid the grumbling women bunched at the doorway, she wandered over to the fireplace and picked up an interesting-looking antique box from the mantle.

  Instantly, a green glow circled her fingers. “Thou must defeat thy foes. The fate of Ryne rests in thy hands.”

  Crap. Nothing like a blasted ghost to turn a game into a life-and-death trial. She carefully replaced the box on the mantle and stepped away, but the emerald ring still winked with energy. The last thing she needed was Lady Anne coaching her every move.

  “Kailyn, what were you thinking?”

  Allison’s voice pulled Kailyn’s thoughts back from the spirit world. “What have I done wrong now?”

  Her friend’s eyes grew round in disbelief. “Given Ginnette the advantage. You can’t wish that bloody harpy on the Earl.”

  “It’s not my fault. I think one of the ghosts hexed my printer. At least it put you and Emily on my team.”

  Her friend’s eyes narrowed and a frown creased her pretty face. “Don’t tell me you can’t embroider or arrange flowers?”