Fair Maiden

by Cheri Schmidt

  Searching his mind for anything that might distress her enough to keep her away, he recalled what he knew about her. This girl was pampered and spoiled and selfish. Then it came to him. Smirking at his own brilliance, Christian said, “It’s haunted, I’m distressed to report. Daily I’ve been visited by a ghost.”

  Then cursed mentally when she smirked right back at him. “How intriguing,” she cooed seductively, leaning close to him again.

  Spinning her away in a turn he fought for distance another time. Never had he been forced to struggle for propriety so hard while dancing, and wondered how a girl so new to the ton could be so cunning. He wanted to beat his mother for getting him into this spot, and vowed that if this did not gain him an advance of funds, he just might do it.

  Finally, it seemed something had distracted her from talking about herself, and the story about how she’d been invited to five soirées in one night died in her throat. “Oh, my,” she spat softly, but with malice, “Who is that girl in the golden gown?”

  Christian turned, following the line of her narrowed stare, and froze with shock. It was her, it was Contessa, looking about herself with huge green eyes. She appeared lost and frightened as she struggled to avoid having the many waltzing couples glide through her ghostly body. He moved to assist her, but Muriel wouldn’t have it. Her nails bit into his bicep. “Do you know her?” she ground out, her voice thick with jealousy.

  He opened his mouth to respond, then heard Tessa say his name. “Christian?”

  Obviously, the casual address didn’t go over well with his dance partner. The snobbish debutant dug her heels in and tightened her grip. “You cad! Do you think to court us both?”

  Odd how Muriel could see and hear the spirit, then as he watched Tessa a moment longer, he realized the only ones to not dance into her, had seen her first.

  Shifting his eyes from Tessa to the ruffle-clad chit clenching his arm, possibly drawing blood by now, he said, “Of course not. I only plan to court one Lady.” And that is not you, Lady Spencer, he thought, knowing she read the unsaid words in his eyes as he stabbed her with a glare.

  Clearly vicious to the core, Muriel simply smiled and ran a hand along his chest in a show of improper behavior he knew was meant to cause trouble for him. He stepped back and shot his look toward Tessa again. His delight at seeing her then shattered and crumbled at his feet. She’d seen Lady Spencer’s actions and it was obvious by the devastated look on her face that she’d interpreted them just as Muriel had planned.

  She fled…right through people and right through a wall.

  The guests she’d passed through shrieked and then quieted. He suspected it all had happened so fast no one understood they’d just seen a ghost. Even Muriel was too fixated with him to notice. He shoved her hands away, and made for the door.

  And even over the music, Christian could hear Muriel clucking angrily behind him as he waded his way through the guests in the direction his ghost had gone. He knew he’d abandoned her on the dance floor, which he also knew was a huge faux pas, but he didn’t care.

  “Lady Gh—Contessa?” he called as soon as he ran into the foyer. She wasn’t there. He began searching room to room until he found her. Well, her muffled sobs could be heard through the door and he knew the sound of her sorrow well enough to recognize it. As his fingers closed over the doorknob, his heart squeezed—such sadness. And he perceived her distress had most likely begun when she’d awoken alone in his bedchamber. What a louse he was.

  Chapter 11

  The Lonely Spirit of Krestly Castle

  Somehow she knew she’d slept longer than usual. Her eyes focused on an unfamiliar ceiling, and she looked around. Where was the canopy? The butterflies?

  Then she remembered. Oh, his chamber.

  Tessa rolled to the left, but he was not there. Her gaze traveled the room. He was not here at all. She sat up. He’d left her?

  “Certainly, he has left a note.” But if he had, it was not here, she realized as she looked about the covers.

  Tessa spent a long time moving around the castle and the grounds looking for Christian, hoping to speak with him again. She knew her name now, and also knew with that information, he would be better able to discover where she was from.

  But neither he nor his butler were anywhere to be found.

  “Has he really left without telling me where he was going?”

  Of course he had, he did not owe anything to her, a lost spirit such as she was.

  That reality hurt. She knew it was only the truth, but still it ached. A ghost would not matter to him. Could not matter to him. She was a fool to think otherwise.

  Loneliness crept in around her like an evil predator.

  Again this demesne was deserted except for the cook and a couple of maids, all of whom she did not want to show herself to. As well as the fact that Christian had asked her not to. She would not defy him in that, even if it meant that she remain solitary.

  Not realizing she was going to the study until she’d arrived, Tessa emitted a weighty sigh. Her eyes landed on the gramophone, and then she moved to it. With her mind, she set it to play.

  The same melody as he’d played when he’d danced with her rose into the room. Unable to stop herself, Tessa lifted her arms as if holding Christian, and moved through the steps of the waltz. She was also unable to prevent her thoughts from drifting his direction. She thought of dancing with him, of sitting with him in the garden amongst the red roses, of their games and their intimate talks. Of his hair, his eyes, that charming dimple in his cheek.

  The tears returned. “Oh, Christian, where are you?”

  Then, quite suddenly, the music changed and she twisted to look at the gramophone only to see many finely dressed couples, twirling about her, and some through her. She moved to escape them.

  “What? Where am I?” And then she saw him dancing mere feet way from her with a maiden swallowed in canary ruffles, and lace, and ribbons. Then he too saw her. “Christian?”

  Distracted by another couple waltzing through her body, she shifted out of their path and then sought out his face again. But this time, he was looking at that lady with dark chestnut hair piled beautifully atop her head, and watched in horror as she caressed him in a most familiar manner with one gloved hand.

  Understanding rose up to slap her in the face. He was at a ball, with a living girl, enjoying himself, just as he should. Of course he’d not told her. It just showed how kind he truly was. He would not hurt her like that. But she was injured.

  She could not, and did not blame him. It was his right to dwell amongst the living. She was the one out of place. She was the one who did not belong.

  Tessa had no other choice but to flee. “Home. I must get back home.” But as she drifted from room to room in this fine dwelling she did not know where to go, or how to return from where she’d come.

  Stopping in an elegantly furnished sitting room, she thought back to what had happened. She’d been dancing, thinking of him…and then she’d said his name. Perhaps that was the key.

  “Home. Home,” she whispered. “I want to go home.”

  Pacing the chamber, she repeated, “Home.”

  “Home.” Tessa felt her hands ball into fists. “Please, please, may I go home?”

  Was she to be left to haunt this place instead? “Oh, no, this cannot be.”

  “Please,” she begged again. “Might I go anywhere but here with these strangers? Her heart twisted, she wished to be with her parents, but knew that would never happen unless she was able to pass on to the next life. And since she did not know how to do that, she wished to be back inside her enchanted chamber at…. “To Lord Krestly’s castle.”

  That attempt failed too. She remained where she was in this strange place. Alone.

  Growing desperate, she continued, “I will stay locked inside my chamber. I will not trouble him again.” She pinched her eyes tightly closed and wished, and prayed.

  Yet when she opened them, she’d again not m
oved.

  “Home,” she whispered another time as she sank to the floor and tugged her knees close to her chest.

  “Home.”

  “I will go to Heaven or Hell, which ever I deserve. Please do not leave me here,” she bargained, pled. Images of that girl swam up in front her. The look of disdain as the lady in yellow stared at her, touching him as if he belonged to her, troubled Tessa. It was as if she meant to say, How dare you even exist? And the maiden was quite beautiful. It was no wonder she appealed to him with such brilliant blue eyes shining out from a perfectly pale face.

  She was forgotten, and utterly lost. “He does not want me. I beg of Thee,” she prayed. “Take me from this life. Oh, God, please do not forsake me.”

  Her cheek dropped to her knees and she cried.

  Chapter 12

  Amongst the Living

  He twisted the knob and pushed open the paneled door to the room containing her, slowly, hoping she wouldn’t run again.

  Emotion stung the back of his eyelids with the sight that greeted him. Against the wall, in an empty sitting room sat his little ghost embracing her bent legs as she whispered, “Home,” over and over again.

  “Contessa?” She started at that, and her tear-soaked eyes met his. “Please, darling, may we talk?”

  He slipped his hands from his gloves and tucked them into his pocket. When Christian crouched down in front of her and reached for her chin, she turned her face away. So instead he brushed one curled finger over her wet cheek.

  “Why?” He heard her say softly.

  “Why was I dancing with that girl?”

  Tessa shook her head. “Why am I here?”

  “I don’t know the answer to that. I thought you were trapped at the castle.”

  “I had thought so too.” Hesitantly, she finally returned her gaze to his. “I was alone…”

  In his bedchamber. He knew that hadn’t gone over well.

  She continued, “After searching for you, and not finding you, I called your name, and then suddenly I was here.”

  “And that’s why you were whispering ‘home’ earlier?”

  “Yes, I thought if I said it then I would return.”

  Because, he’d again upset her, he thought, suspecting that was the reason she clearly wanted to leave.

  Then her focus slid away from his face, and she asked, “Why were you dancing with that maiden?”

  Christian sighed and rolled his eyes. “My mother insisted I waltz with her. And I must please her if I expect to resume collecting an allowance.”

  Obviously, Contessa understood this all too well. “She expects you to marry.”

  “I’m afraid she does.”

  “So then you were courting her.”

  “Certainly not!” He attempted to drop his volume to a more soothing sound. “I do not want her. I don’t even like her. Not even remotely.”

  “Marriage is not about that.”

  “Times are changing, Tessa.” His knees lowered to the rug, and his right palm braced against the wall beside her. “It is true that some marry by contract. It remains a business transaction for many, but a new trend has begun. It has become vogue to marry for love.”

  Those emerald eyes of hers grew. “You do not love the pretty maiden dressed in yellow?”

  He wanted to emphasize his simple “no” with a strong vulgarity, but resisted the impulse in front of her. Then his insides twisted, he had to tell her the truth. Eventually he would be forced to marry or he would never gain his allowance and then he’d be required to leave Krestly Castle. Swallowing the enormous lump lodged in his throat, he began, “I fear I must marry though, at some point. My parents expect it of me. I’m deeply sorry, Tessa, I know it is not fair for you to have to watch it.”

  Air trembled out of her, and her green eyes were hidden beneath thick lashes. Sadly, Christian knew he would not get them back.

  He continued, “I truly regret these words, but I need a corporeal wife, Contessa. I may choose love, but I must choose it quickly.”

  Tessa jerked as if his words had been a physical strike.

  “I’m so very sorry, I truly am. But we can never be.” He felt exactly as though he’d taken a blade to his own heart with those words, and knew they cut her just as deeply. Oh, bloody hell.

  “I understand,” she said on a sob, stabbed him once with those heart-wrenching eyes of hers, stood, flew through his body, and made for the door. But to his utter bewilderment she crashed into the wood with a resounding thump. He was dizzy from standing so abruptly.

  “What just happened?” he asked, moving toward her as she flattened her hands against the surface, peered franticly over her shoulder, dropped her eyes to the doorknob and then with renewed desperation slid her palm down the door to the rounded mechanism.

  She still meant to leave him, yet....

  Her thin fingers curved around the metal, twisted, and then tugged. But the door did not move because he’d planted his hand on the edge of the wood to prevent her from escaping.

  She gave the knob another yank, then noticed his arm angled past her ear and stared at it. Slowly and while trembling, she turned to face him.

  He had her trapped now, he mused, as his right hand came up to settle on the other side of her head. And his focus shifted to those lips…a darker shade of pink…a delectable shade of rose. Fascinated, Christian could feel her little breaths puff against his mouth. She smelled of honey and sweet spices. He was close, very close, and he only needed to be a little bit closer. Just one taste, he pondered, as his lips crushed against hers.

  The poor girl jolted as if she’d been shocked by the touch of his flesh. But he reveled in it and captured her gently by curling fingers around her slight upper arm, and tangling the rest in her silken tresses. Then grinned, what he knew to be a wolfish grin, against her mouth when her hands came up to his waist, and her back lifted from the door, bringing her torso closer to his.

  Replying to the silent request he answered with the weight of his against hers, and deepened the kiss, tasting her, savoring her. He couldn’t get enough, and felt like a starving man presented with a fine feast.

  Faintly, he was aware that her hands had moved upward and then she pushed.

  With regret, he wrenched his mouth from her, only to drop his forehead against hers. “Oh, Tessa, darling, I’ve wanted that for so long.” He captured her upturned face between his palms. “What has happened? How is this so?”

  Trembling hands rose to cover his against her cheeks, and then with unsteady movements of her fingers, she explored the texture of his skin. Her awed expression made him wonder if she could be in tactile overload.

  Again, he had to kiss her, just had to. She followed the movement of his mouth with her eyes as he swooped in toward her face. Her lashes shuttered as though she were drugged, their lips met just long enough for it to be a shock when he conked his forehead onto the wooden door.

  “What?” Christian lurched backward and rubbed the tender spot, then looked at her. She was still between him and the door, yet…. “No.” His other hand no longer rested comfortably against her soft cheek, but against air.

  Because, as before, she was untouchable. No longer was she flesh and blood, but a spirit.

  “No,” he growled again. “Come back to me, darling.” He reached for her arms, he wanted to shake her, make her stay in his living world. “How did you do that?”

  She shook her head, her eyes swimming with confusion. “I did not d-do anything.” Another tear escaped and coursed a path to her chin. “I was as surprised as you.”

  The droplet of moisture clung to her, although threatening to drop. He couldn’t let it get away and passed his thumb over the spot. But this time his digit met with hot skin. Christian, fearing she would get away from him again, threw his arms around her and jerked her into an embrace, only to have her vanish from his hold once more.

  Struggling to control his breathing, his fingers curled into fists and he pondered, How could this be? Wh
y…? What could he do? He lifted his hand with his palm toward her and said quietly, “Touch me.”

  She looked apprehensive as her right hand rose to meet his, as her eyes locked with his and their palms met. But it was only flesh to spirit. He really could not understand this. “Contessa—” His next words never made it past his teeth, because just as quickly as he’d uttered her name did she become living again. And then he understood, or suspected…. “This happens when I speak your name.”

  In wonder, Christian’s focus left her face and moved to their hands as his fingers interlocked with hers and then folded down around her hand. So small. So warm. So soft. He could feel the smile controlling his mouth. So his….

  In curiosity, he lifted his other hand to the pulse point on her wrist and pressed his thumb firmly to the spot. Each solid pump of her heart thumped against the pad of his digit. This is real.

  “How long will you stay like this?”

  She exhaled, and again he felt her breath brush across his face. “I know not,” she whispered in a voice that was distinctly solid compared to how she’d sounded before.

  He gave her hand a squeeze. This time, she stayed in his corporeal world, but they waited. Just in case.

  Moments passed in quiet anticipation.

  Pleased and hopeful, Christian lifted her wrist to his mouth and touched it to his lips to check again. That pulse point was just as alive, just as active as a few beats ago.

  “It seems you’re here for good this time.” He paused to tease a bit of her honeyed tresses around his forefinger, and it was just as soft as he’d imagined it would be. A grin spread across his mouth. “Contessa, darling, might I have the pleasure of this dance?”

  Chapter 13

  Shall we?

  “Here? At this ball? Y-you want me to dance with you?”

  “Please?”

  “In this chamber, or out amongst the others?”

  “I can’t very well show you off in here.”

  Panic twisted in the pit of her stomach, and the sensation made her feel queasy. Her palm rose to her middle. She’d noticed how the other ladies had been dressed and also knew she would not fit in. “But,” she peered at her naked fingers tangled with his, “the others wore gloves. How would I…? What would people think? I’m dressed as a bride.”