by Lauren Smith
“I’m not going anywhere until we figure this business out,” she vowed.
God, he loved it when she did that. No one and nothing would deter his little bookworm from getting her way.
“So…if Richard killed Cordelia but died at the same time, why was the discovery of her body not mentioned along with Richard’s when a footman found him? Surely the local authorities would have investigated and reported another body. In all my sources I only ever came across the discovery of his body. No one ever mentioned poison.”
He tucked one of her arms in his as they left the drawing room. “I’ve never even heard of this woman before now.”
She glanced at him. “I have. She’s in the diary. It’s just like in the…” She hesitated before continuing. “In the vision. Cordelia was hanging around Richard, hoping to marry him, but he met Isabelle, and the rest was history. Apparently there’s more to this woman than Richard knew, if what we saw was true. She was some sort of witch, or practiced witchcraft at least. It all comes back to the murdered doves. There were several places in the diary where Richard mentioned the birds dying. I think she was must have been sacrificing them to cast her spells. She said something right before Richard died, something that sounded like Latin. I think I can write it down, and we can translate it later. I bet it was a spell.”
He sighed. “Are we really talking spells and witchcraft? All of that Macbeth nonsense with women over smoking cauldrons?”
She patted his arm reassuringly, even though there was a mocking light in her eyes. “Just because you’re afraid to accept there are things beyond what you can understand doesn’t mean those things don’t actually exist. I think, given everything that’s happened, we have to entertain the possibility that we are in fact dealing with witches and spells.”
“And the body we found in the garden?” he asked as they ascended the grand staircase together.
“Cordelia’s. I’m certain of it. We saw the remnants of a red cloak in the grave, remember? She was wearing that in the vision we saw.”
“Very well, I give you that much.” He had to agree that it was too much of a coincidence otherwise. “We should go to town tomorrow and look through the archives and see if we can track down Cordelia. We’ll wait until Randolph returns. He can watch over the workmen.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
When Jane reached her room, she glanced up at him through her sooty lashes.
“After what just happened…do you feel fine sleeping alone?” Her cheeks flushed and her gaze flicked away from his face.
He picked up on her hesitation and wondered what he was supposed to do. She’d made it clear she wasn’t ready for a relationship, that she’d been wounded before and couldn’t trust another man right now. What did she want him to do? “I do, but if you don’t…”
Before he could even finish, she had snatched her bag and was marching into his room as though she belonged there.
“Great, thanks! You want the right or left side? Whoa, this bed is massive.”
She dropped her bags and circled his bed, her gray eyes wider than usual. “Plenty of room…for two.” A delectable blush tiptoed across her cheeks as she stroked her palm over the velvet coverlet with a wistful gaze clouding her eyes.
He wondered what she was thinking about. Did she want to be in bed with him as much as he wanted her beneath him, begging for more, crying out for him? Ever since he’d kissed her in the drawing room, he felt that things had been building to this. But he didn’t want her in his bed because she was afraid. Even that was too low for a man hungry to kiss every inch of her as he was. If she shared his bed, it should be because she wanted him, not because she was terrified of being alone.
“Jane, I’m sorry you’ve become involved in this, but I’m glad you’re here. Had I been dealing with this alone…I do not know what would have happened.” It was as close as he could come to confessing he was also glad he wasn’t alone.
She offered him a rueful smile. “Lucky for you the ghost seems to want me dead, not you.” She paused, voice breaking. He moved to her and eased her down on the bed, tucking her safely against his side.
“I’m sorry.” He meant it. If he had known she’d be so affected staying here, he would have dragged her out to her rental car and driven her back to town himself. He didn’t want to lose another person he cared about to the madness that haunted this place. History couldn’t repeat itself.
“It’s fine, really. I just wish I didn’t believe in all of this stuff, but I do. Blame my parents for raising me a God-fearing Catholic, but I believe in ghosts a hundred percent.” As she spoke she touched a small medallion around her neck, her thumb and forefinger rubbing over the image of an archangel slaying a dragon.
She lifted her head and looked toward the large window closest to her. Even in her fear she was beautiful.
His throat tightened as he recalled his mother’s change after his father never returned from Stormclyffe. How she used to sit in a large, overstuffed chair by the window in their house outside London, her cheek resting on the sun-bleached fabric as her forlorn stare swept the garden outside the window. His mother seemed so far away, as though she’d traveled to a distant land and hadn’t ever truly returned. She was haunted by losing her husband.
No. She wouldn’t go the way his mother had. He wouldn’t lose another person to this cursed pile of stones.
He directed his gaze back to Jane, admiring her. She was so lovely. There was a quiet, yet untamed ferocity in her, driven by her passions and tempered by her determination. People didn’t act like she did anymore. They didn’t have strength. They didn’t fight against their fears to help others. Such a woman was rare.
Am I falling in love?
Previously, he would have laughed at the notion. But at this moment, alone in a bedroom with her, he thought it was possible to be in love with Jane. There was nothing false about her, no secrets she wouldn’t reveal to him if he took the time to delve into her soul. He could trust her, could be himself with her without fear of anything. He’d danced and sung with her, let her see inside himself where he’d never let another woman in. She’d accepted him as he was, weaknesses and fears alike and had liked him, more than liked him. It was impossible not to love someone who made you feel like that.
Even though he’d known her a short time, it made perfect sense. You could wait a lifetime hoping to earn someone’s trust and love, but sometimes…it happened fast and unexpected like the shock of a doorknob when crossing the carpet in socks. The jolt of instant realization, the sign that something was meant to be, that you belonged to another person. He couldn’t deny it. He belonged to Jane, whether she knew it or not, whether she wanted him or not.
She sidled closer to him, nibbling on her bottom lip.
“What can I do to ease your worries, Jane?” He acted without thinking, lips brushing a kiss on her temple. She shivered hard and turned into him, burying her face in his sweater. Bastian shook his head in a silent laugh. Three days ago he’d been obsessed with restoring Stormclyffe and nothing else. Now that barely mattered in comparison to protecting Jane from angry spirits.
Tomorrow, he would take her to town and let her relax. As much as he wanted her to stay here, she needed to go, needed to stay clear of the shadows that lingered in Stormclyffe’s halls.
“Come on, let’s get ready for bed. I don’t know about you, but I’ve been up since before dawn and would love to catch up on my sleep.” He separated himself from her and saw the look of regret on her face.
“I’m so sorry. I’ve been crying and acting like such a ninny.”
“Everybody gets scared. Even me,” he declared with a teasing stoicism.
She laughed. “I don’t think I ever want to encounter what makes you scared. Does anything frighten you?”
Losing the people I love. Rather than admit that aloud, he shrugged.
“I’m human, just like everyone else.”
Her nose crinkled with a little smile. “Sometimes
I think it would be nice to be superhuman. Where’s a radioactive spider when you need one?”
He cocked a brow as though her reference was entirely lost on him even though he knew what she was talking about.
Half amused, half exasperated, she explained. “Oh come on. You know, Spiderman? The superhero? Didn’t you read comic books as a kid? Living with a brother, I know way more about this stuff than I should probably admit.”
Her sheepish grin made his heart turn over in his chest. “I spent most of my childhood feeling like a bit of an outcast. Given my family’s unique history, I was lucky I wasn’t bullied, much.” He winced at the unwanted memories. Boys were notorious for wanting to ostracize those who were different, especially those with family histories that were less than normal. “There was the occasional skirmish but I always held my own. It was difficult though, since I was small for my age.”
Her brows arched up in surprise. “You, small? I can’t picture that, you’re so muscled and strong…”
Her eyes darkened with desire as she raked her gaze over his body, and it made his own lust stir in response. She was so dangerous, and she didn’t even know it.
“Thank you for the compliment.” He chuckled. “I didn’t really start to grow until my last few years at Eton.”
She blushed. “I meant to say…”
He waved a hand and offered her a reassuring smile.
“Well, you ought to use the bathroom first. I’ll just change clothes.” He could practically feel the blush in his face, the creeping heat as she bashfully looked away, too.
And to think I was so good at this before.
She had the audacity to giggle. “This is going to be so awkward, isn’t it?”
“I don’t normally have issues with women,” he confessed.
Her face turned a charming shade of red, and she glanced away. She said something, but he didn’t hear her. All he could focus on was her pink tongue darting out nervously to wet those succulent lips. Lust swirled in dark edges in the center of his soul. He’d give anything to drag her into his arms and possess that sweet little mouth. Burn away all the fear she’d felt in the last few days and turn her world inside out with mind-numbing pleasure…
She unzipped her suitcase and pulled out silk-striped pajamas. She darted off to the bathroom, and the door clicked shut behind her. He stifled a groan as he tried to walk, but his erection was determined to punch through the front of his trousers. He reached his dresser and dug around until he found some heavy flannel pajamas for himself. He doubted she would have handled the news very well if he’d told her he normally slept in the nude. Wearing some barriers of clothes would keep his behavior in check tonight. He hoped. He didn’t want to be that man who took advantage of a woman feeling vulnerable.
It was a cold night, but he’d sleep shirtless because he was burning up with completely inappropriate arousal. He flipped the metal clasp of his wristwatch open, slid it off, and set it on the dresser. He considered it. The watch was a handsome piece, expensive like everything else he owned. Rich in wealth, poor in family. A curse he could not escape.
Despite the tragedy of his family’s history, they’d always prospered financially. It was like a devil’s bargain. And he was starting to despise the money. He’d rather have his father back than the Aston Martin in the front drive.
He moved to the window. He scanned the hillside that sloped down from the castle to the shores. A white shape drifted from the rose covered archway of the garden below and continued toward the cliffs.
A trick of the moonlight, a play of shadows perhaps? It couldn’t be what it appeared to be…a woman in a flowing white gown. He fancied he saw the figure look over her shoulder at the castle. Another shift of light, a flicker of shadow, and a second figure materialized in the garden archway. A feminine figure wearing a red cloak. Two white, perfect little hands dropped the hood away from the figure’s head. The head was only a rotting skull with bits of hair straggling down off the yellowish bone. The figure turned to face the window, and its sunken eye sockets were black pits reflecting the emptiness, the decay of his family’s history, his own soul.
He stumbled away from the window, horror ripping through his insides. Before he could even process what he’d just seen, Jane’s scream split through the haze of shock that had enveloped him.
Chapter Fifteen
Jane stripped her clothes off, admiring the expensive Italian marble bathroom. The shower had a walk-in entry and was large enough to hold five people. There was a marble bench opposite the huge shower nozzle. She tiptoed into the stall and turned on the water. The initial blast was cold, and mist formed a layer of dew on her skin. When the water was hot and steam filled the shower, fogging all the mirrors and doors, she ducked under the spray.
The heat was intoxicating, and she closed her eyes. Her hands rubbed, massaged, and slid over her body, her breasts, down her thighs. The warmth of the water lulled her into a dreamy state of lust. She leaned back against the shower wall, indulging in a fantasy of Bastian. It was his hands cupping her breasts, pinching her nipples. His mouth drew one aching peak between his lips, sucking hard in long pulls that had her fisting her hands in his hair to urge him on.
Smack!
A big shampoo bottle hit the floor and rolled toward the drain. She swallowed several times, trying to force her heart back down from where it had jumped into her throat. She bent over, picked the bottle up, and set it in the stall corner. When she raised her head and looked through the glass shower door, she screamed.
A face stared back at her through the steam. A face that was more bone than flesh, with eyes of flames and blood oozing down its bony cheeks. Strips of hair still clung to the partially decayed scalp, in long greasy tendrils. Even over the sound of rushing water, the creature’s ragged breaths scraped over Jane’s ears.
Hehhhhh.
Hehhhhh.
The rasping death rattle invaded her mind, challenging every instinct she had to scream.
The creature raised a skeletal finger and carved a word into the steam on the glass.
Mine.
Trails of dark, brownish blood dribbled from the word, mixing with the steam’s moisture until pink rivulets trickled down the shower door.
Air flooded Jane’s lungs, and she screeched. The figure vanished at the same moment Bastian burst through the bathroom door.
“What happened?”
“Oh, God! Bastian, it was here. It was right here!” She pointed at the door, but the word and the blood were gone. Her mind whirled, trying to make sense of what she’d just seen and how it was possible that it had vanished in the next instant.
“What? I don’t see anything.” His gaze roved over the room, taking in everything with a guarded and protective stare.
“Great, I’m losing it,” she mumbled. Her whole body shook so badly she collapsed in the shower.
He peered through the door at her. “Are you all right? I’m coming in.”
The soft thud of shoes hitting the marble told her he was joining her. She tucked her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around her shins, hiding her nakedness. Despite the chills racking her body, her face still flamed at the thought of him climbing into the shower with her. Rather than strip down, he walked in, slacks, sweater, and all. He cranked the nozzle to make the water even hotter and sat down next to her on the floor, ignoring the fact that he was getting soaked.
“What are you doing? You’ll ruin your clothes,” she mumbled.
“Doesn’t matter.” He slid his other arm around her shoulders, tucking her against him.
“What happened?” His warm breath slid over her forehead as he placed a kiss on her temple.
She repressed a shiver of longing.
“It was a ghost. A decaying, rotting thing. It wrote the word ‘mine’ in the steam.” She wiped at the tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. She’d never known such fear before, facing true evil. She knew that’s what it was. Evil. And it terrified her. Seeing Isabell
e on the cliff hadn’t scared her, it only made her sad. This…this creature in the bathroom. That hadn’t been like Isabelle. It was pure evil.
“I believe you. I saw it, too…only it was outside in the garden. It was…”—He hesitated— “Chasing Isabelle to the cliffs. It stopped and looked up at me and…” This time he didn’t continue.
“Even though the body’s gone…she’s still here. Cordelia is still here. Just like Isabelle said.” She shivered. “What are we going to do? How do you get rid of a ghost? Should we call a priest and have an exorcism?”
“I don’t know. She’s gone for now. Don’t let her frighten you. I’m here with you, Jane. She can’t touch you while I’m here.”
She wanted to believe him, and he made it so easy to. He was strong and brave, even if a bit close-minded about ghosts. Of course, he was starting to believe her now. He was seeing things too, and that was bad news because it meant what they were seeing was real.
He caught her hand and brought it to his lips, sucking her index finger into his mouth. It was the perfect distraction, replacing her terror with sexual hunger.
Damn the man, he was too perfect. Heat pooled between her thighs, and she leaned into him, watching his lips move around her finger. He released her finger and raised his eyes to hers. The faintest glimmer of a shadow flitted past his irises.
“Kiss me, Jane.” His gruff tone made her body quiver deliciously.
There was no thinking after that, only action. She turned in his arms, her lips seeking his. They shared a groan as her breasts pressed against his chest. She gripped the bottom of his sweater and tore it off him. He pulled her onto her feet, and she kissed him while he rid himself of his slacks and boxers. He kissed back in playful, aggressive nibbles that had her body flashing between his heat and the press of cool marble behind her.
He growled when her exploring hands brushed his straining cock. She glanced down, eyes widening at his impressive length. There is no way…
“You can take me, Jane. You can take all of me.”