“I cannot begin to tell you what it is like to be a ghost,” he said, taking a deep breath. “To walk these halls unseen. Invisible. Dead to the world. For so many, many years.”
“It sounds lonely.”
“Quite.” He lifted his gaze to meet mine. I felt like drowning in the blue depths of his eyes. “I need to thank you, Alice.”
“For what?”
“For casting that spell. You’ve given me a gift I can never repay. You freed me from my loneliness. And if you find my bones and bury them properly, you will free me from the prison of this ghostly existence.”
“I cast the spell for my own purposes, Sir Nicholas. I need to find the jewels. I did not intend to free you.”
“I know.” His hand slid up my arm again, this time pausing to cup my cheek. His thumb brushed gently against the skin there, caressing my cheekbone. His eyes darkened and my breath hitched in my throat as I stared at him. “That does not alter my gratitude.”
He leaned forward, his face nearing mine. He paused only a breath away from my face.
“I want to kiss you, Alice.”
I licked my suddenly dry lips. “I’ve never been kissed by a ghost.”
He smiled. “Not that you were aware.”
My eyebrows arched. “Did you?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “But I wish to now. May I?”
Without another word, I nodded. He leaned forward and gently placed his lips on mine. During my time in London, I’d had suitors kiss my gloved hands, but never had I experienced a kiss upon the lips. This being my first, I had nothing to compare it to, but the sensations of the simplest touch of mouth upon mouth sent a whirlwind of emotions swirling through my trembling body. Heat flooded my limbs as well as other inner, secret places. His hand lowered from my cheek to my shoulder and I shivered with delight as his arm slid to my back. His other hand reaching for the curve of my neck.
His mouth parted, and his tongue caressed my bottom lip. I gasped at his actions, opening my mouth in invitation to deepen the kiss to a degree I never imagined. The intimacy of his kiss burned into my soul.
I never wanted it to end.
After several moments, he parted from me, leaving a trail of kisses across my cheek before he leaned back. He held my hand in his, gripping it firmly as if he planned to never let go.
“I should not have done that,” he said, his eyes widening. “I didn’t think…”
“What?”
“I’ve had the desire to kiss you for some time, Alice.” He paused, blinking his eyes before he took a deep breath to continue. “I’ve watched you here in Morley Manor. I’ve witnessed your triumphs and your struggles. I’ve seen you at your best and worst. I’ve come to admire you more than any woman I have ever known, but to you I’m only a stranger. You know nothing of me.”
“On the contrary, Sir Nicholas,” I said, interrupting him. “I’ve learned a great deal of the history of Morley Manor. It has fascinated me since childhood. Not just the legend of the jewels,” I added when he tilted his head and raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Your story is most intriguing. But I wonder if any of it was true? Did the historians get it right? Were you as brave and compassionate as they claimed?”
Nicholas shook his head. “I did what any man in my place would have done.”
“You saved the entire village.” I remembered the stories my father had told me when I was a little girl. “During a time of death and grief, you went into the village to help save the people who were sickened by a terrible illness. You worked the fields for the men who no longer had strength. You sent for the best healers of the time to help the sick. You found homes for the children orphaned from the illness. Few high-born men would have done what you did.”
“My people needed help. I could not stand idle and watch them die.”
“You are fortunate to have not contracted the disease yourself.”
Nicholas leaned back, shaking his head. “No. Perhaps if I had died from illness, my soul would have been at peace.”
“You died under mysterious circumstances, did you not?”
He frowned. “Murder is not by any means mysterious.”
“The one rumored to have murdered you was never brought to justice.”
Nicholas stood. “You have had a long day, Alice. We need not speak of this tonight. I leave you to your rest.” He turned and took several steps toward the door.
“I’m sorry,” I spoke softly, but he paused when he heard me. “I did not wish to upset you.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve been dead for decades, my dear. It bothers me not how I died.” His words did not match his expression. I did not object as he walked through the closed door.
Afterward, I sat a long time on the settee, recalling the sensations I felt when his hand touched mine and the feelings that stirred deep within me with the kiss we shared.
Chapter Five
A week passed and Trevor and I still had no luck finding the jewels or Sir Nicholas’s body. We gathered in the library after a long day of searching and digging. My brother sat sulking in a winged back chair near the fireplace, while I scoured through books containing records of the history of Morley Manor and the families who resided here. Shortly later, soft snores echoed from my brother’s chair. I debated waking him but left him be. It had been an exhausting day.
While Trevor slept, I immersed myself within the pages of the history books.
Sir Nicholas Weatherby’s father had built Morley Manor as a gift to his newly wedded bride. The family had lived in the manor for generations until the last Weatherby died childless in the 1700s. At that point, my great-grandfather had purchased the property. It had remained in my family ever since.
The stories of the Weatherby’s were legendary. The family history was filled with passionate romances and volatile interactions between siblings.
Sir Nicholas’s elder brother had died in a duel to win a lady’s hand. The very lady who eventually married Nicholas.
According to the books, Constance Becker had been a woman of rare beauty, one much desired for her elegance and upbringing as well as the handsome dowry that accompanied her marriage to the Weatherby’s.
After Nicholas’s mysterious death, Constance had remarried a family friend, Philip Wilkes, and they lived happily until her death at the ripe age of 52.
There were other members of the family and dates of births and deaths. But my gaze returned to Sir Nicholas’s name matched with Constance Becker’s.
My mind tarried there, curiously pondering the woman’s appearance.
A woman of rare beauty, someone had recorded.
Had Nicholas thought her beautiful? Had he desired her more than the wealth she brought into their marriage? Had he touched her with such heat in his eyes as he had done to me that night after my bath?
Abruptly, I shook my head, urging my mind to think elsewhere. It would do no good to let my mind wander such paths that would lead to thoughts better left alone. Lusting after a handsome ghost would not help me find the jewels.
I needed to focus on that.
The jewels.
Finding them to save Morley Manor.
To save Trevor.
To save me from a loveless and quite possibly brutal marriage. I needed to keep that at the forefront of my mind.
As if I had conjured him from my thoughts, Nicholas appeared at my elbow, eliciting a gasp from me.
“What happened to knocking?” I sucked in a deep breath, hoping to calm my racing heart.
“Do you know habits are difficult to break? Especially those that have been procured during hundreds of years.” He leaned near me, peering over my shoulder to read the text of the current book on my lap.
I shivered slightly at the heat I felt from his skin. It amazed me how real he seemed. To me, he was a solid figure. I could touch and taste him.
And yet, I saw him walk through doors and walls. That made the man dangerous and oddly alluring.
“What are yo
u reading? The family histories? What rubbish.” He leaned back and wandered to the windows, peering through the open curtains to the fields beyond.
“Do you not approve of these volumes?”
“Approve?” Nicholas glanced over his shoulder, his left eyebrow raised curiously in my direction. “Not at all.”
“Why?”
“They’re filled with lies and half-truths. Did you get to the part about me, yet? A plain-looking man who despised fashion. Granted, I never was fond of fashion, but I don’t consider myself plain. I think I’m quite dashing, don’t you?”
A loud bark of laughter erupted. It took me a moment to realize the sudden guffaw erupted from me. My face flamed in embarrassment as his gaze settled firmly on me. He turned to face me fully, hands on hips.
“You do not think me handsome, my dear?”
“Not that,” I said, shaking my head. “I thought it amusing that of all the items listed in these histories, you most disapprove of a singular comment made about your face.”
He folded his arms over his chest.
“And if your future descendants were to read a volume about the grand Miss Alice Worthington of Morley Manor being plain of face, you would not take offense?”
“Certainly not.” I shook my head again and lowered my gaze back to the book. “For it is most true.”
The sudden silence in the room struck me. Since my first night meeting Sir Nicholas, I had become acutely aware of the constant noise of the man. He thoroughly enjoyed conversation. Hearing someone else’s voice engaged with his own was something he had not experienced in an insufferably long time, so I had accepted his continuous vocal observations while in his presence.
Currently, he uttered not a word which struck me as peculiar.
I lifted my gaze, thinking he had abandoned the room with my frivolous reading.
Instead, he remained focused solely upon me as if seeing me for the first time. Some emotion flickered across his face. Something I had not seen from him before, sympathy, pity, disbelief?
I was uncertain until he spoke what his true feelings were regarding his last statement.
“Surely, you don’t believe that.”
“What? That I am plain?” I smiled with sudden understanding. Sir Nicholas was handsome. Unbelievably so. It was as if an expert artist had created the man, molded him out of lifelike clay.
He was quite tall, towering over my five-and-a-half-foot frame, at times making me feel like a child while standing beside him. He had trimmed blond hair that glistened with copper highlights when the rays of the sun struck him at that perfect angle. His shape of face was masculine, yet classically beautiful. The set of his eyes, nose and mouth were in perfect arrangement. When he smiled, it was a smile that could melt a bitter woman’s cold heart.
And his eyes… Those blue eyes sparkled like sapphires glistening in the sun. The bluest depths that you could lose yourself in, swimming until you were lost at sea, drowning in his gaze.
I blinked, realizing I’d lost myself in my appraisal of his appearance.
What was worse, he knew the effect of his appearance on women. He was aware of his handsome visage and used it well to his advantage.
I had read such statements from others in his family’s histories, despite the one claiming him to be plain. I could see the way he held himself, the way he spoke to Mrs. Norris, even if she could not see or hear him. And the way he spoke to me.
He exuded confidence and certainty. He held himself with the surety of a naval captain on a ship filled with crew who looked to him for commands.
I, on the other hand, knew quite well that I was not handsome at all. In fact, I was ordinary compared to other women of the ton. I was of average height with a thin, delicate frame. I had mousy brown hair with no spectacular coloring. Just average brown. Dull, unremarkable.
My eyes reflected my hair. Brown. Plain. Ordinary.
I was nothing special. If I had not known of this simple fact, the citizens of the ton were certain to educate me.
No one sought me out for dances at ballrooms and parties. Nor was I engaged willfully in conversation if the requirement was not strictly necessary when I attended those rare affairs. I was not one to be the center of attention as the other debutantes and ladies of the ton. I was forgotten, ignored. Not exactly a wallflower, since they saw even those women.
I was invisible.
Perhaps that’s why I sympathized with Sir Nicholas’s plight and was tolerant of his constant banter. I found the enjoyment of having someone to speak to, as well.
I had never minded society’s neglect. Indeed, I looked upon most as silly nincompoops, more concerned over the latest on dit and gossip than what was to be in their bellies that night. They need not worry about food or shelter. They focused on fashion, marriage and scandal.
Marriage to a man of wealth would solve my current financial dilemmas, but I feared it would create a whole new set of worries.
As I had been lost in my own musings, I was not aware of Nicholas’s approach until he touched my hand, awakening me.
I jerked my hand, but he caught it. Holding it in his, he swept his thumb over my knuckles, caressing the skin there. Tingles of awareness hummed along the length of my arm and settled in my chest. My heart hammered fiercely from his proximity and as he knelt beside me, my gaze connected instantly with his lips and the memory of the kiss we shared.
My skin grew hot beneath his gaze. Quickly, I cast my gaze away from his face, as if staring into such beauty might scald me or mark me in some fashion.
While one hand still captured mine, his other hand brushed against my chin, forcing my gaze back to his face.
“If others have led you to doubt your beauty, let me shed light upon such observation. My dear Alice…” The way he spoke my name as if it were a cherished word, made my pulse leap in my veins. “You no doubt intimidate others with your beauty and that is why you are unaware of their feelings.”
I made to shake my head in denial, but his fingertips stopped my movement as they slid upward toward my hair.
“Your hair…”
“Is brown,” I said, finishing for him.
“It’s not simply brown, my sweet. It contains various shades of earthy tones, from copper to chocolate to strands of gold. Look here.” He grasped a stray curl that had loosened from the pins keeping my hair away from my neck. He uncurled the strands, drawing the length down for my observation. “Do you not see the color that vibrates from these locks? And the texture is not dry or coarse, but smooth as silk.”
He released my hair, letting the strands brush against my cheek. Instinctively, I swept it behind my ear, but he frowned and drew it back, letting it fall in place beside my face.
"May I?" He indicated the pins holding the rest of my hair in place. I didn’t respond, not understanding what he meant to do. He slowly began pulling pins from my hair, letting the curls fall onto my shoulders.
I should have objected. It wasn’t decent, but he had captured me in the heat of his hungry gaze. I could tell he wanted to see my hair down around me as he had that first night I met him.
When at last he finished, he leaned back to observe his work.
“You’re a beauty beyond words, Alice.”
“It’s just hair, Nicholas.”
“This is the type of hair that men would die to see strewn across their pillows at night, the silken strands tousled and tangled in their arms from a wicked night of lovemaking.”
He smiled when I gasped at the visualization he painted within my imagination.
“You are a rogue, sir.”
“Indeed, I’ve never denied it.” He leaned back and rubbed his chin as he stared, the look of hunger never leaving his face. “Nevertheless, I do not lie.”
“A woman’s hair does not define her beauty.” I yearned to lift my arms, to sweep my hair back into some semblance of order, to take the vision he had painted before me and wipe it from my mind. I didn’t. I kept my arms stiff at my sides, k
eeping my gaze locked with his.
“What you say is true,” Nicholas said, nodding. “A woman’s beauty is defined by her passion, her intelligence, her personality. Hair and face and dress are merely wrappings on a package. The true depth of beauty is found within, Alice. And you…” He cupped my cheek with the palm of his hand. “You have beauty in both appearance and soul.”
“What do you know of the beauty of my soul?”
“I can see it shining like a beacon of light in your eyes. I see it in the way you care for your young brother. The tender way you treat Mrs. Norris and Cook. I’ve seen you give your food to your dogs because they were hungry while you went without. I can see it shining when you think you sit unobserved and cry into your pillow at night.”
I stood abruptly. At times, I forgot that Sir Nicholas had seen me, known me far longer than I had known him. He’d watched me grow from an infant into a woman. He had intimate knowledge of me that no one else in the world could share.
Thinking of the things he’d seen me do in the privacy of my chamber both frightened and excited me.
I made to move away, but his hand had never released mine and he kept me in place. I pulled, but he tightened his grip.
For a ghost, he was surprisingly strong as his fingers tightened around mine.
“Never doubt for another moment that you are anything less than beautiful, Alice. I will not have it. Do you understand?”
He stood beside me, towering over me. His free hand traced my face from my cheek to my chin and his thumb rubbed against my bottom lip.
I watched the blue of his eyes darken as he gazed at my mouth. For a moment, I would have sworn he dipped his head to kiss me. He leaned toward me, his head lowering close to mine. Instead of kissing me, his cheek grazed my cheek, and he whispered huskily into my ear.
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