Wanted: Ghost-Busting Bride

  She and her sisters would have to be content to turn into scrawny scarecrows by the age of forty. The daredevil Westbrook men would continue to have freak accidents.

  She’d find a job that had nothing to do with architecture.

  Dropping the contents of the underwear drawer into her trunk, she swallowed a sniff. Okay, restoring the wonderful old castle would have been fun. She’d love to have hashed the details out with Markham. But it wasn’t worth his life.

  Distracted, she wadded up the green riding habit and threw it in the trunk. Markham simply wanted to save Ryne, nothing more. She wasn’t important to him. Lady Anne could choose another who filled his needs without love as part of the equation. If she left now, his term as Earl of Ryne would turn out like Thaddeus’s. Not spectacular, but an adequate span.

  She had to blow her nose before grabbing the pink wool dress and stuffing it into the trunk. Memories of the smoldering kisses they’d shared and the battles they’d fought together swam in her head. She smacked the bed with her fist. Damn Markham. Why did he have to be so single-minded that he had no room in his heart for her? She grasped the next garment and looked down. It was the green riding habit.

  “Now I’m losing my mind. I already put this in.” She threw it on top, not bothering to fold it.

  As she reached down to pick up another dress and realized she again held the pink wool one, she paused and noticed a green light dancing around the rim of the trunk.

  “This is crazy.” She pounded her fist on that sturdy piece of luggage. “You didn’t help me fight off Desdemona during the ball. How do you expect me to save Markham when he doesn’t love me? Go pick someone else.”

  Lady Anne didn’t respond.

  When nothing further happened, Kailyn scooped up everything on the bed, dumped it into the trunk and slammed the lid shut. Swiping the key off the dresser, she locked the chest.

  “I’m going home. Don’t try to stop me.” She flung open the door.

  A grim-faced Chadwick stood near the landing.

  “I’m leaving tonight. Would you have someone carry my trunk down to my car?”

  The butler entered her room and glanced around, confused. “Miss Kailyn, your gowns are still in the dressing room. Don’t you want to take them with you?”

  Slowly she turned. The dressing room door stood open. Her green riding habit, her pink wool walking dress and all her other gowns hung neatly in their former places. Lady Anne refused to give up.

  “I’m leaving them. I simply need my computer and engineering tools.” She crossed the room and grabbed her computer case.

  “Very well, Miss. I’ll have your car around front in ten minutes.” The butler’s crisp British accent failed to conceal the sadness in his voice.

  Guilt tore at her heart. Not only had she let Markham and her family down, she’d destroyed the hopes of those who depended on Ryne for their livelihood. How could she explain that seeing Markham die would kill her, too?

  Shoulders drooping, she glanced around the faded but still beautiful room. If only Markham loved her, she would gladly stay to slay his dragons and help him restore this lovely castle to its previous glory. She choked back a sob and closed the door on Markham’s bleak future.

  By the time she got downstairs, Chadwick had opened the solid-oak front doors. “I hope you will return soon, Miss Kailyn.”

  Afraid to speak because of the tears welling up in her eyes, she simply shook her head. Her heart remained at Ryne. For all the good it would do the callous Markham.

  After storing her computer and equipment in the rental’s backseat, she slid behind the wheel, inserted the key and turned it.

  Nothing happened.

  She tried again, this time jiggling the key the way she sometimes did with her old work truck.

  Still nothing.

  Bending forward to study the ignition switch, she spied the green glow surrounding it.

  “Why are you keeping me here, Lady Anne? If Markham doesn’t love me, I can’t save him from Desdemona. He’ll die. I won’t be responsible for his death.”

  She rested her head on the steering wheel and gave in to the overwhelming urge to cry.

  “Thou must remain and fight—not retreat—or Ryne’s future is lost,” the ghost said in a whispery voice. “Desdemona’s power has magnified. She will not be content to wait another generation to claim Ryne. Thou must dispose of her before thy wedding, or she will annihilate my family.”

  The nagging whisper stuck in her mind. Lady Anne expected the impossible.

  Kailyn pounded her head on the steering wheel. If she had to resort to Crystal’s seduction idea, she, Markham and Ryne were doomed.

  Chapter 21

  Where was Kailyn?

  Spencer scanned the room for his fiancée’s blue gown, but didn’t see it. Kailyn wasn’t in the ballroom.

  The cold certainty something terrible had happened to her gripped his heart, and that fear urged him to find her quickly.

  He stepped around a group of tittering females and fumed at his lack of judgment. Why had he flitted around the dance floor with those other women? His stupidity had hurt his chances of winning Kailyn’s love.

  Chadwick blocked his frantic dash to the terrace. “My lord, Miss Baker asked me to drive her car around to the front. From my observations, she has not yet departed.”

  “Not yet departed?”

  “Yes, my lord. She told me she was leaving immediately.”

  Every muscle in Spencer’s body reacted as if he’d been catapulted out of a cannon. Kailyn couldn’t leave. Ryne wouldn’t be worth saving without her. Pushing his way through the guests, he raced out the great oak door. He had to make her believe in him.

  Hope, fear and desperation raced through him at the sight of her small rental car still sitting in the drive.

  When he reached it, he yanked the driver’s door open, and leaned in to say, “You’re not going anywhere. Get out, so we can talk about whatever Desdemona did to upset you so much you’re willing to disappear without even saying goodbye.”

  Kailyn stopped his advance by slapping the palm of her hand against his chest. “It’s what you did, not Desdemona.”

  What a fool he’d been. Spencer blinked and peered at her.

  He’d caused the tears streaking the make-up on her cheeks. Thinking he’d gladly grovel on his knees to erase the misery filling her blue eyes, he snagged her outstretched hand to pull her out of the car and into his arms.

  She stood silently in the circle of his embrace, vibrating with such anger he didn’t dare give her an inch of space. With a careful shift of his body, he pinned her against the car.

  “What can I do to make things right?”

  His erstwhile fiancée erupted like a volcano. “Try starting with some consideration. After not being able to step out of my door without tripping on you, you disappear the moment I need your support.”

  “How was I to know you’d be the only woman in the world who was ready exactly on time for a ball?” He swept a bedraggled curl off her wet cheek. “I’m sorry. John and Mari arrived, and I lost track of time.”

  “Yeah, I noticed.” Kailyn jerked out of his arms, and he let her go. “The three of you were so busy congratulating yourselves on your successful con job that you forgot I existed.”

  Spencer racked his memory to recall the entire conversation, then winced. John’s boast and their joking didn’t put any of them in a good light. Getting down on his knees and begging Kailyn’s forgiveness was beginning to look like a necessity.

  “I don’t know what you heard. But even though Crystal tricked you into coming to Ryne, our engagement isn’t a scam.”

  Her blue eyes shot daggers at him. “No. It’s a convenience. You get a bargain—I renovate your castle, and you return to London to resume your old life.”

  Kailyn balled her fingers into fists. “Do you think I’m some seventeenth-century woman you can marry and forget?”

  He stepped close and brushed a kiss over
her forehead. “I could never forget you or leave you behind. We have a few weeks to work out our future living arrangements.”

  Opening his hands placatingly, he explained, “I never wanted to be the earl, so after my brother Sebastian’s death, I was furious. I foolishly planned to marry Lady Anne’s choice and escape back to London.”

  What an idiot he’d been to think in terms of a marriage of convenience. Marriage to Kailyn would be riveting, mind-blowing, a laugh a minute, tender . . . but never convenient.

  He slipped his arm around her. She didn’t melt against him and, tensing, he waited for her next indictment.

  “Do your big plans include more dances with the elegant Francine Vaughn and the other brunettes—like Mari—that trail around after you?”

  Kailyn’s jealousy canceled out his fear that he’d lost her. His heart whispered that she cared. “You think I enjoyed those dances?”

  “How could you not?” He read the doubt and insecurity in her eyes before her voice cracked. “Francine and Mari are both beautiful. Everything a lady should be. I’m never going to be in their league.”

  Boy had he botched this week’s amorous advances. His dating techniques obviously needed a major overhaul.

  Catching her face in his hands, he forced her to look him in the eye. “You’re far superior to them. You have intelligence, wit, sass and an undefeatable attitude when faced with a challenge. You’re going to have to trust me, Kailyn. No other woman is as spectacular as you.”

  At his heartfelt declaration her fingers unclenched, but she still looked wary and sad. “I suppose that you’re going to tell me the trust fund set up by Rupert Westbrook didn’t influence your decision to marry me.”

  He shook his head. “Money won’t save Ryne. My father married for wealth. Every one of his investments tanked. Not only did my mother’s dowry fail to help the estate, it destroyed my parents’ marriage.”

  Reaching out, he interlaced his fingers through hers. “Only the right woman—chosen by Lady Anne—can save me and restore Ryne. And you are that woman, Kailyn. It doesn’t matter what you bring to the marriage.”

  Tears welled in her eyes. Now what had he said or done to upset her?

  “What if I fail to stop Desdemona and you die?” Her words spilled out in a choked whisper.

  He enveloped her in a tight embrace. Finally, he’d reached the real problem. Somehow, without scaring her to death, he had to make her understand she was his only hope.

  Knowing he had to tell her the truth he felt in his heart, he murmured in her ear, “I don’t know what we’ll face in the battle against Desdemona. I do know with you by my side, we have the best chance to succeed.”

  When she tilted her head to argue some more, he covered her mouth with his in a kiss calculated to insulate her from Desdemona. Besides, he couldn’t think of a better way to silence her accusations and bolster his confidence. The salty taste of her tears reminded him how close he’d come to losing her. He deepened the kiss, determined to show her she belonged in his arms.

  Later that night when she was supposed to be sleeping, Kailyn incessantly flipped from her back to her side on the feather mattress. What did she do now? Markham might have answered each of her worries, but he still didn’t love her. She pushed the covers down to her waist, unable to find a comfortable position.

  The stupid man was going to die.

  Abruptly, she sat up and pummeled the pillow with her fists, wishing Markham’s stubborn head replaced the feather-filled cushion. How did Lady Anne expect her to force love into his stony heart?

  Crystal had told her to seduce him, but unless there was some secret weapon in those blasted countess chronicles, she’d fail. Her lovemaking skills were nonexistent. Pulling up her knees, she rested her chin on them and gazed at the fireplace. Her friend was a chronic meddler, but Crystal’s whacky methods produced results. Perhaps the one diary Kailyn hadn’t read contained the information she needed to save Markham. It was the only lead she had.

  She tossed the tangled covers aside, grabbed her bathrobe and dashed to the door. No sense trying to get any sleep until she’d studied every bit of data. Shivering, she lengthened her strides and slid her icy hands inside the bathrobe’s sleeves. There had to be a way to crush Markham’s British reserve and totally win the rogue’s heart.

  By the time she had unlocked and opened the heavy door to the east turret, her mission was clear. She’d find out how the former countesses had won their earls. She snagged the top diary from the small desk, hopped onto the cot and curled up, ready to learn.

  The moment she read a passage from the journal Kailyn felt an instant connection with Charlotte, the Eleventh Countess of Ryne. The opinionated, American suffragette had faced the ultimate in-law opposition. Not exactly the type of facts Kailyn had hoped to find, but still interesting.

  . . . When I reached the end of my endurance with the dowager’s nonsense, I decided to take my problem to the ultimate authority, Lady Anne. As far as I was concerned, it was pointless for Lady Anne to shower me with the signs. The dowager countess still possessed the power to deny the existence of them . . .

  No help here. She was the only one who’d tried to deny the signs in the present Countess Quest. Frustrated, she read further.

  . . . After listening to Lady Anne’s warning, I informed the ghost as politely as possible that the wrong person held the power to decide the earldom’s fate. If Lady Anne wanted me to be the chosen one, something had to change. The dowager countess has grown more hostile toward me with each sign, and everyone in the household believes she never intends to admit the signs have occurred. The earl, the butler and the housekeeper all argued that they had witnessed the signs being fulfilled, to no avail . . .

  Frowning, Kailyn studied the words again. Perhaps in Charlotte’s case Desdemona had worked through the dowager. Yet, Charlotte didn’t mention any attacks. Curious to see what else this tale would reveal, Kailyn continued.

  . . . Together, Lady Anne and I have devised a plan. We will give the dowager what she really wants, power and prestige. I have invited Mr. Vannevar to Ryne. He is the wealthiest American I know. Onboard the ship, he admitted to me that his goal in traveling to England was to secure a wife. He wants a woman of high social standing who is an excellent hostess and a beauty. Miranda is perfect for him. With a little push from Lady Anne—for his wealth and a huge estate in upstate New York—Miranda will give up her control of Ryne . . .

  For several seconds, Kailyn stared at the passage. Charlotte had used Desdemona’s greed against her. A good idea, but not much help in her situation.

  No wealthy landowner would marry a ghost, so how could she appease Desdemona’s need for power and prestige? If she could figure out a way to satisfy that vindictive harpy, the battle between the ghosts would stop.

  Questions whirled in her mind, and she thumbed ahead to see whether Charlotte’s strategy had actually worked.

  . . . Miranda, the current Mrs. Vannevar, is now on her way to America. Once Mr. Vannevar appeared and began courting her, Miranda’s personality sweetened. It is amazing how quickly she verified Lady Anne’s signs. My Philip claims we have seen his aunt’s true nature, but I am not convinced. After Miranda’s unreasonable tyranny, Lady Anne and I set forth a system for an equal division in the verification of the signs, limiting the dowager countess to only one. The earl, the housekeeper and the butler will each bear witness to the occurrence of the other three signs . . .

  Okay. She’d stash away this idea, but she was still stuck. There wasn’t any secret formula to win Markham. She tossed the book aside.

  Rats. She was going to have to bumble through a seduction attempt without a list of instructions to guide her. Why couldn’t Lady Anne have given her some magical powers instead of a rose, a ring and a brooch?

  Chapter 22

  The creak of the door to Kailyn’s adjacent chamber jarred Spencer out of a restless sleep. Bollocks. Kailyn was running away again. He grabbed his jeans. Franticall
y hopping across the room, he put first one leg then the other in the confoundedly tight pants before he opened the door. When he spotted Kailyn bolting down the hall in her bathrobe, he grabbed a shirt. Surely, she wouldn’t pop out in public in her pajamas and bare feet.

  He crept softly behind her. Through the higgledy-piggledy succession of winding corridors, he followed her at a safe distance. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten her.

  When she took the staircase to the east turret, he relaxed. Lord knew what she’d find useful in her old room, but maybe it meant she was still on her mission to defeat Desdemona.

  He paused in thought. His little spitfire hadn’t taken any weapons to ward off the evil ghost. It was up to him to keep Desdemona away.

  Staring at the shifting shadows in search of any trace of red mist, he slipped silently through the empty rooms of the east tower..

  Something brushed against his leg.

  He jumped, grabbed for a squirt bottle of goo and groaned when his hand came up empty. In his haste to tail Kailyn, he’d forgotten the bloody slime.

  The castle’s tabby cat scurried to the doorway, and he let out his breath. Laughing at his blunder, he climbed to the top floor and Kailyn’s old room.

  Silently, he leaned against the doorjamb and watched her. He couldn’t let her go. Of all the women he’d wined and dined, she alone touched his heart. From the moment the chair had dumped her in his office, she’d amused him with her defiance and wrong-headed logic. She challenged him in every imaginable way. And he was getting better at understanding her. Because of her, he wanted a real marriage, a future and a family.

  The week she’d promised to stay at Ryne ended tomorrow morning. Now he needed her to stay forever. Somehow he had to win her love.