Wanted: Ghost-Busting Bride

  Everything went fuzzy.

  Spencer kicked a tuft of grass with his boot and strained to hear racing footsteps. It was so hard waiting in the center of the maze.

  Minutes ticked by, then he heard a dull pop and a muffled squawk. Something was very wrong.

  He charged toward the opening in the hedge, reaching the first turn in time to see Ginnette toss a dark object into the bushes then kick at a pink, unmoving pile on the ground.

  “Bloody hell!” The demented woman had injured Kailyn. “Ladies!” he shouted, hoping the contestants he’d stationed in the maze would act. “Anyone who can hear me! Call a physician and the constable.”

  Choking down fear, he watched Ginnette charge toward him, red shimmering in the air around her.

  “Thy attempt to thwart me failed,” she sneered in Desdemona’s voice, then laughed.

  Desdemona’s hideous mirth pounded in Spencer’s head. He’d been such a fool to believe Kailyn was safe.

  The bloody ghost wasn’t going to win. He sprinted toward Kailyn’s still form.

  “You can’t possibly care about her,” Ginnette babbled as she reached out to grab him. “All you want is for Ryne to prosper. It really doesn’t make any difference whether the signs are real or rigged.”

  Judging by the red radiating around Ginnette, Desdemona controlled her. He could not afford to be infected by the evil ghost. He dodged to the side, scraping along the hedge.

  Ginnette pursued. “I did you a favor. With her out of the way, you can marry money. My family will gladly finance the upgrading of Ryne.”

  “You won’t succeed, Desdemona. It’s too late. I’m committed to Kailyn.”

  “Noooo.” Ginette wailed in Desdemona’s voice.

  As he glanced back at the possessed woman, Emily and Allison darted into view from the opposite end of the maze.

  “Grab Ginnette and sit on her.”

  Emily stuck out her foot to trip Ginnette while Allison tackled her. Ginnette landed on the ground with a loud thud. A red haze flew up in the air and shot toward the west tower.

  Spencer sprinted to Kailyn’s still form. Losing his feisty love wasn’t part of the bloody trial. As the thought of never being able to argue with her again flooded over him, he couldn’t seem to gulp enough air. “Please don’t be dead.”

  He fell to his knees by her side. “Kailyn, speak to me.” His heart clenched at the thought he might be too late. “Are you all right?”

  She didn’t answer. His future lay in pink shambles on the hard dirt path.

  Afraid to hope, he bent over Kailyn’s crumpled form and placed his hand on her face. Her warm breath hit his palm.

  She lived.

  Relief shot through him as he stroked her hair with his trembling fingers. “Kailyn,” he called her name softly.

  He laid his ear on her chest. Her heartbeat thudded strong and steady. Tonight he’d call a halt to this insane business. He’d send her back to Dallas until he’d defeated Desdemona. He wouldn’t risk her life again.

  When she still didn’t respond, he slowly ran his hands over her arms and legs in a methodical, inch-by-inch inspection. As far as he could tell, nothing seemed bloody or broken. Maybe Ginnette had missed, but he didn’t think so.

  Puzzled, he gently probed her scalp.

  Kailyn shifted, her eyes fluttered open and she groaned.

  “Where do you hurt?” he asked calmly, when he really wanted to scoop her up and carry her back to the safety of his room.

  Kailyn blinked rapidly before her unfocused eyes settled on his face. “I’ll be fine as soon as the shrubs quit spinning.”

  She tried to sit up but immediately sucked in her breath and sank back onto the ground.

  “My shoulder hurts,” she whimpered, her right hand reaching up to her left collarbone.

  “Stay still.” He carefully pried her fingers away from her sleeve and peered at the gown. “Whatever the injury is, it isn’t obvious.” Pushing the gauzy fabric off her shoulder, he exposed an angry red area the size of his fist. “Do you know what hit you?”

  Kailyn winced as she turned her head to glare at Ginnette, now being held by Nell, Allison and Emily. “That bitch shot me. Why I’m not dead, I don’t know.”

  His heart missed a beat. Even though a shot through a silencer matched the sound he’d heard and Ginnette’s actions, there was no blood.

  His hand brushed against a sharp object on her dress. A diamond broach was situated in the exact spot of Kailyn’s injury. Lady Anne must have used it to deflect the bullet. Thank God.

  Carefully, he tugged Kailyn’s sleeve back into place and glanced around at the women clustered behind him. “I need you ladies to look in the bushes for a gun, but remember, don’t touch it.”

  Satisfied that the eager women would find the evidence, he sat on the ground and scooped Kailyn into his lap. She was too groggy to complain.

  Kailyn shifted slightly. “Why am I still alive? Ginnette shot me at nearly point-blank range.”

  Cradling her to his chest, Spencer caressed her hair. “I’d say you were very lucky, my love. Your jewelry saved your life.”

  “My mother’s brooch?” Kailyn reached up to finger the object, swearing under her breath at the movement. “The one Dad gave her after a conference in England. I don’t remember putting it on this morning.”

  “Of course you don’t remember it, dear girl,” Lady Sedgewick’s voice floated down to them.

  His aunt’s silk skirts swished around him as she stepped forward and bent down to examine the glittering brooch.

  “This is Lady Anne’s work. She placed it on your dress to deflect the bullet. See how the center is concave rather than flat? It stopped the shot right there.” Placing a soothing hand on Spencer’s shoulder, Aunt Sophie murmured, “A rather fortunate way for the third sign to occur, if you ask my opinion. Your guardian ghost is an expert at timely rescues.”

  “Thank you, Lady Anne,” Kailyn mumbled and went limp in his arms.

  For the first time since finding Kailyn on the ground, he could breathe. He glanced over at his aunt’s gloating face. “How could Lady Anne’s missing brooch be the one Kailyn is wearing?”

  Aunt Sophie chuckled. “Your father sold the family heirloom twenty years ago. Never fear. The brooch always finds its way home.”

  Shoving away all thoughts about the battle between the ghosts, he managed to stand with Kailyn nestled gently against his chest. Her needs came before everything else.

  When she shifted uncomfortably, he panicked and stopped. “Am I hurting you?”

  “No. I’m really fine,” she mumbled groggily. “You don’t need to carry me.”

  “Trust me, I do.”

  At his protective growl, she tilted her head and for an endless moment searched his face as though surprised by his urgency. Then she snuggled her head next to his heart. He wasn’t certain—too much had happened too quickly—but it seemed to beat faster from more than the physical exertion.

  Chapter 17

  Kailyn took a deep breath and tried to relax. She was safe in Markham’s arms. Desdemona had used Ginnette for the last time, as the stuck-up brunette would now have to leave Ryne. However, Ginnette’s leaving wouldn’t end the ghostly problems.

  Who would Desdemona find next to do her dirty work? Kailyn’s mind whirled with possibilities and braced for another ghostly attack. Desdemona wanted her dead.

  She hadn’t been rattled when Lady Anne stopped Helena from bashing her brains in. Nor had she been frightened when Opal tried to ram into her horse. She had to admit Markham’s attack in the kitchen with a knife while under Desdemona’s control had been downright scary. Dodging the boulders Desdemona hurled hadn’t been fun, either. But being shot was an entirely different matter. There was no mistaking Desdemona’s fury. Kailyn hated being the prime target in a battle between two despotic ghosts.

  When Markham set her down on her bed, she grabbed his sleeve. “Promise me you’ll be careful when you deal with Ginnette. D
esdemona could still influence your decisions.”

  He bent over her, brushing her forehead with his lips. “I’m so sorry you were injured. I should never have insisted you stay for the week. I’ll make arrangements for you to return to Dallas in the morning.”

  “Hold it.” Determined not to let him renege on his promise, she struggled into a sitting position. “You’re not going to treat me like some lowly employee you can fire.”

  He scowled at her. “The ghosts have too much power, and they are vicious enough to attack an innocent assistant.”

  “I’m not your innocent assistant. I’m your fiancée—your lover, your partner, your helpmate, your friend.”

  Even though her head spun, she swung her legs off the bed. She couldn’t argue against Markham sitting down. “I’m not a glorified secretary or a helpless bystander. I chose to join your battle against Desdemona. You can’t send me home like a useless piece of baggage. I won’t go.”

  Markham wrapped his arms around her when she wobbled, his breath tickling her neck. “I tricked you into staying here to battle an evil ghost. One who has tried to kill you. I’m not risking your life again.”

  She studied his angry expression. Did he think she was a china doll who would break, or was he worried that she’d sue him over her bruise?

  “You, Crystal and John brought me here under false pretenses, but I’m not an idiot. I make my own decisions as to whether I leave or stay. Right now, I’m staying.”

  She pulled free from his embrace, leaning against the bed for support. “I have unfinished business with Desdemona. I’m going to get rid of that damn ghost if it’s the last thing I do.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.” The blasted man snatched her tee shirt and boxers from atop the trunk, shoved them into her arms and picked her up. “Desdemona is vicious, and she’s had five hundred years to hone her savage tyranny.”

  Even though he carefully deposited her on the bed again, she swung her legs over the edge and bent down to pull at the laces on her half boots while she thought up her next argument. “Lady Anne insisted I was the one who could defeat Desdemona, and I believe I have the tools to do it. If I leave, Desdemona will tear the castle apart.”

  “I’d rather see Ryne torn apart than see you dead,” he growled.

  “Then she’ll come looking for you. She won’t give up. She thinks Lady Anne has wronged her.”

  Markham brushed her hands away from the shoestrings and untied her boots. “Leave all your tools with me and go back to Dallas where you’re safe.”

  The pigheaded man didn’t even think she was fit to untie her own shoes. No wonder he wanted to send her away. He didn’t believe she was capable of defeating the ghost.

  “It’s my using the tools that will be successful. You have computers of your own, but you need me to win.”

  She reached under her skirt to wiggle out of her pantyhose. Markham immediately turned and walked to the window. Confusion clouded her mind. Why was he suddenly distancing himself from her? He didn’t seem to want her anymore.

  When she tried to speak, her voice wavered. “If you don’t want to marry me, fine. After I destroy Desdemona, I’ll go home and take up my engineering job at Markham and Martin.”

  He spun around, but quickly wheeled to face the window when he saw her slipping off her dress.

  “That’s not what I want. Lady Anne chose you as my bride, and I’d marry you today if I thought that would end the battle. But it won’t. Before I can marry you, all four signs must occur. Next, you must perform whatever task Lady Anne dictates.”

  He ran his hand through his hair. “That gives Desdemona many more opportunities to attack you. Neither Lady Anne nor I can guarantee your safety. It would kill me if you died.”

  Her heart leapt wildly as she pulled on her tee shirt and boxers. Slowly she walked to his side. “Then trust me to do the job Lady Anne wants me to do. She’s had five hundred years to plot a strategy to defeat her enemy.”

  Turning to her, Spencer took Kailyn’s hand in both of his and leaned over to kiss her bruised shoulder. “Will you at least rest for the remainder of today-here where you’ll be safe—and forget tomorrow’s shopping trip? I don’t trust Desdemona not to strike you again while you’re weakened.”

  “Yes.” For once his wishes suited her perfectly. The extra time would give her a chance to consult with Lady Anne.

  After a knock on the door, Mrs. Chadwick called, “The doctor is here to see Miss Kailyn, and the constable has requested to speak with your lordship.”

  Three hours later, Spencer sat in the library behind the old mahogany desk and drummed his fingers on its battered surface. Kailyn was safe, and Mrs. Chadwick would see that she rested as Dr. Woodson recommended.

  The old country doctor had been quite astounded by Kailyn’s lack of serious injury. She’d escaped with only a deep shoulder bruise. From Woodson’s description, the brooch must have acted like a double layer of Kevlar to completely dissipate the bullet’s energy. Even stranger, Constable Black and his men hadn’t found any portion of the bullet except powdered fragments.

  Ginnette swept into the room, head held high, followed by her solicitor. “I did nothing wrong. I told the upstart to lose, but I didn’t shoot her.”

  Desdemona may have influenced the shooting, but Ginnette had pulled the trigger. Spencer clenched his jaw. She needed to admit her guilt in front of the constable.

  To stop her lying, he’d invited a secret guest and hidden him in the wing-backed chair facing the fireplace. From the far side of the room he’d be able to hear the conversation and not give away his presence. No matter what Ginnette did or said, the ambitious social climber would pay for her actions.

  “My client is emotionally distraught at these unfounded accusations.” Ginnette’s solicitor held the chair in front of Spencer’s desk for her to sit.

  Spencer nodded to the constable. “Constable Black, if you would present the evidence you gathered against Lady Ginnette.”

  The burly man slowly opened a notepad. “Miss Baker testified that Lady Ginnette Herbert shot her as Miss Baker ran through the maze—”

  “Kailyn is a liar and a cheat,” Ginnette interrupted. “I have proof she rigged the fête games so she could win.”

  Spencer concentrated on remaining stoic. Thank goodness Kailyn’s friends had cleverly helped her to come out ahead in the contests. Not that it mattered. He had a sneaking feeling that if she hadn’t figured out a way to win on her own, Lady Anne would have stepped in.

  The constable ignored the outburst. “Three of the earl’s staff witnessed the shooting from the parapets. Each identified Lady Ginnette as the shooter.”

  Ginnette tossed her head dismissively. “The Chadwicks will say whatever His Lordship tells them to, and Mrs. Simms appears to be in the cheater’s pocket. Although I can’t fathom why.”

  Struggling for patience, Spencer grabbed the edge of the desk in a vise grip. If Constable Black would just hurry, he’d end this mess. He had a few questions to ask Ginnette that she couldn’t flippantly deny.

  The constable sorted slowly through his notes. “Although the lab results aren’t ready yet, the fingerprints on the gun Lady Allison Lloyd found in the shrubbery will most likely match Lady Ginnette’s.”

  Ginnette laughed wildly and pointed at Spencer. “If you pursue these ridiculous claims, Markham, I’ll destroy your precious estate.”

  Fury swept through him. Opening his desk, he pulled out the legal papers and receipt his solicitor had drawn up. “If you are referring to the loan on Nell’s store, it was paid in full yesterday.”

  “I received no such notice.” Ginnette turned to her solicitor. “Seize the Ryne horses.”

  Spencer set the papers on the desk for Ginnette’s solicitor to read. “Your father signed and accepted full payment for the loan. You have no claim on my father’s horses.”

  The oily smile on her solicitor’s face slipped. He snatched the documents and studied them for a few m
inutes before turning to his client. “Lord Markham is correct. The loan has been paid in full. You have no grounds to confiscate Ryne property.”

  Spencer steepled his fingers and stared intently at Ginnette. “Tell me why you decided to attend this house party.”“Because I’m the most qualified woman to be your countess.”

  As he pulled out photocopies of other legal documents, he said sternly, “This competition is only for single women.”

  Ginnette gaped before stammering, “But I am single.”

  “Really? According to this marriage license, you wed Trevor Kester nine years ago.” He leaned back, waiting for Ginnette’s answer before he sprang his surprise.

  “That marriage isn’t valid. Trevor doesn’t have a title, and my parents refuse to acknowledge the union.”

  Spencer raised an eyebrow. “It’s still legal and binding. You’re not free to deviously solicit another marriage under false pretenses.”

  Ginnette sat up regally and jutted her chin out. “I’m exactly the kind of woman you should marry. I can run your home and carry your title. You can return to your architecture business with no one the wiser.”

  “Is that so, Ginnette?” Trevor Kester rose from where he’d been sitting in the wing-backed chair facing the fireplace. “You already have a husband. Me. You can’t imagine I’d condone an illegal second union just so you can have a title. If you want a divorce, why didn’t you just tell me?”

  With a gasp, Ginnette jumped up. “Trevor!” She reached out and grasped his arm, only to have him back away as though the touch disgusted him. “I don’t want a divorce. Ever! I was doing it for us. With Ryne’s title, my parents would reinstate my inheritance.”

  She burst into tears, and her husband relented and pulled her into his arms. “You need help, Ginny. Your parents’ constant pressure to disown me and their insistence you marry a title has muddled your thinking.”

  “Gentlemen, I would like to offer a solution.” Spencer leaned forward and waited for Trevor, the solicitor and the constable to look at him. “If Ginnette agrees to accept psychiatric treatment at a certified institution, I won’t press charges. However, she must never set foot on Ryne property again. If she does, I shall take legal action against her.”