“That was more than I wanted to know, Father.”
Lord Sparks chuckled and patted Christian on the head, then looked around, wobbling slightly. “Where is my lady, anyway?” Before they could answer, he said, “Ah, I believe I just spied a bit of that smashing azure gown of hers. Carry on, children.” Lord Sparks staggered back into the ballroom.
“Is he—?”
“Completely foxed, yes.” Christian rolled his eyes, and laughed. “He’s always had the uncontrolled sweet tooth of a child, and while the punch is spiked with liquor, it is also very sweet. This is the only time he tends to…overindulge, I’m afraid.”
“Thank heavens he is not very observant in this state. He just looked right at me, or rather, right through me.”
“Christian,” she heard his mother say. Again Christian stood between her and another who would likely notice the changes in her appearance.
Christian spun around. “Can I get you some punch, Mother?”
“No, thank you, I’ve had some.” She shook her head. “Though not as much as your father has.” Lady Sparks tried to look behind him. “Oh, there you are. I was hoping to speak with you again, Contessa.”
Christian shifted, affectively blocking his mother’s view again. “Brilliant idea. However, I was just escorting her to the powder room. We’ll be back in a moment.”
Turning again, Christian attempted to get her out of sight before anyone else came.
Mother was a bit more persistent than expected and she followed. “I’ll take her.”
The marchioness nearly got around Christian this time, and Contessa knew if she did not do something, she would be seen. Telepathically, she toppled a potted palm so that it fell into Lady Sparks’ path. Stems snapped, soil tumbled onto the Oriental rug, and the pot cracked with an echoing pop. Lady Sparks was startled and shrieked, then began calling for servants to clean up the mess which was now obstructing the entryway.
She and Christian were then successful in escaping.
“I don’t know if my nerves can take this,” muttered Christian as soon as they got to a deserted chamber. The room was dark except for the moonlight filtering in through the windows. It appeared to be a parlor?
“What are we going to do? Brendan was correct about the ball just beginning. We have not danced— What would people think if we left?”
He laughed. “Well, I don’t think father will mind.”
She laughed, too. “No, but your mother will—”
Nodding, he said. “She would become distressed. It would be the same as if we hadn’t even come.”
She sighed.
“Let’s see if we can get you stable again. Then we’ll dance a quadrille and a waltz, make our excuses, and leave.”
He repeated her name and the spell Tabitha had taught him until she held her solid shape. Grinning and then laughing, he said. “I can’t believe we’re actually trying to get away with this.”
“I fear we may not be able to get married publicly.”
“We’ll make that decision when the time comes. Let’s just get through tonight.”
Reaching behind her, Christian opened the door.
They danced until Brendan begged to cut in. Christian allowed it, but hovered protectively and before the song even ended, he took her back into his possession. Brendan sulked and murmured about how Christian must be in love because he’d never seen him act so obsessed. She and Christian danced one more time, then they finally fled.
After spending one night at the townhouse, Christian sent Tessa back to the castle without him. He was expected to pay a visit to his grandmother, but promised to return Sunday morning.
“Contessa.”
She stirred from her dreams.
“Contessa.”
Sensing a presence in her chamber, and realizing she was not alone when she should be, her eyes flew open.
Her head was turned to the side, and she slowly focused on a hand holding her wrist to the mattress. Her gaze traveled to the large ring with a crest in the center on the first finger, then to the elegantly embellished sleeve, then to a head of black hair.
Dominic turned his face and looked at her. A smirk curled his lips. “You didn’t really think you could escape me like this, did you, Tessa?”
Trying to get her hands loose, she whimpered when the weight on her chest became crushing. She looked down and saw that he was propped above her. What was happening?
“I know where you are.” His voice came to her in a dream-like whisper, as if from within a tunnel. Was he really there?
“I must be dreaming,” she said.
Triumph danced in his hazel eyes. The man was as handsome as the devil, and she believed he was, quite possibly, just as cunning. “This is not a dream,” he whispered, and she felt his breath on her face.
“You cannot truly be here—”
A wicked chuckle, and then, “I am, Contessa, and I am coming for you.”
How could he be coming for her if he was already here? “You lie—”
But he cut her off by locking his hands around her throat, snatching any breath needed to speak…or live. “Perhaps you should die this time, and if that is what I decide for your fate, it will be a long painful death. You broke your promise to me.”
I never made such a promise, she wanted to scream, but of course could not.
“I keep my word, unlike you, and this time I will put you in a stone tomb which can never be escaped if you do not please me.”
Tessa could see black spots as she clawed at a killer who could not really be there because her nails met nothing. She closed her eyes, feeling consciousness slip, but when the weight lifted from her, she opened them and saw, with utter bewilderment, that he was no longer there.
She sat up abruptly, rubbing her neck which still ached. Fear coiled inside her, ready to strike, ready to poison any sense of safety she felt. Looking around the chamber she tugged the sheets up to her chin. A storm screeched against the window. Rain drummed, wind howled, and thunder rumbled. Shadows took on a life of their own, twisting and moving with each flash of lightening.
Unable to withstand another moment, Contessa tossed the blankets from her and fled the chamber.
Chapter 26
Taken
“Tabitha is worried, my lord,” said Jackson, just as Christian walked in through the door.
“Why’s that?” he asked, rubbing his lower back which was weary from traveling.
“We cannot find Lady Contessa.”
Panic seized him momentarily. “Where have you looked?” Could she have turned back into a ghost? “Could she be in the chamber she slept in as a spirit? Where have you searched?”
“We only just discovered her missing. We haven’t had time to check every chamber.”
“I’ll look.” Jerking off his coat, Christian tossed it at the chair in the entryway. “Have you checked every room on this floor?”
“Yes, and Tabitha checked her wing.”
He made for the staircase. “I’m sure she is somewhere about.”
“Would you like my help?”
“No, but I’d like some tea after I find her.”
“Yes, sir.”
Christian cringed at the “sir” as he made his way upward. He really wished he could stop the old man from being so formal.
Shrugging that aside, his first instinct was to try her original bedchamber, but all that met him was a stone wall, and he knew he’d never be able to get inside. “Tessa, darling, are you there?” he called. Moments ticked by and she did not answer.
He swept the other bedchambers, and paused in the red room, where she should have been. Clearly she had slept there. The blankets were rumpled as though she’d had a rough night of it.
Perhaps she’d risen early and gone out to the garden. He raked fingers through his hair, deciding to go to his room and change before looking for her there.
He opened the door and slipped off his necktie, then halted.
She was there in his b
ed.
Moving forward, he looked down at her. Something was wrong. Contessa was sleeping, but it was not a peaceful sleep. He settled down onto the mattress to more closely examine her tense form.
She was alive. There was nothing ghostly about her. She was dressed in her nightgown, and her silky hair was fanned out upon the pillow. And if he did not know better, he would have sworn that an enchanting wood nymph or a fey princess had gotten quite lost and fallen into his bed, perhaps by magic. However, while she was beguiling to look upon, with the little crease between her brows and the fact that her arms were wrapped tightly around her body, he understood she was not content. Even her full, pink mouth was held in a firm line.
He had to remedy that. He had to do something to help chase away whatever dreams troubled her.
Careful not to waken her, Christian unwrapped first one arm, and then the other from her torso. She resisted only slightly. He set her hands on the pillow next to her head. Then pulled back and peered at her again.
A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he considered the best way to snatch the pout from her lips—which was, without question, with a kiss, or two, or three, or perhaps more.... He began to lean forward, but then her arms stole protectively around her body another time.
Again, he placed her hands on the pillow and gently held them there this time, stroking her palms with his thumbs to soothe her. “Shhh, sweetheart, all is well. You’re simply dreaming,” he whispered, and then kissed her.
Beneath him she softened and returned the caress, her mouth shaping to fit his, and he thought he’d succeeded in his goal. He was, however, a little surprised to realize he’d bent forward so much he was basically on top of her, perhaps allowing too much of his weight press her into the mattress. To him it felt wonderful, and with the arching of her spine combined with that adorable little mewling sound she made, he suspected it was a welcoming sensation for her as well.
However, Tessa tried to pull her hands from his, and when she could not, she went cold. He felt her stiffen right before she wrenched her mouth from his and let loose a bloodcurdling scream. She jerked her hands free and shoved at his shoulders. When he moved from her, she extracted herself from the blankets and thumped to the floor, landing on her rump.
“Are you all right? Tessa, what is wrong?”
After struggling to untangle her feet from her nightdress, she ran from the room.
Christian found her weeping and upon her knees in front of the wall that hid her enchanted bedchamber, her hands moving over the stone as though looking for a way to open it.
He crouched down next to her and dropped to his knees as well.
“I cannot get in,” she whimpered when he placed one hand on her shoulder.
“What happened?”
Turning her back to the wall, she finally faced him. Relief rolled across his senses when he saw she no longer feared him. Trusting green eyes met with his.
“I dreamed of him.”
Dominic. Christian considered that for a moment. “Should I be jealous of the fact that you kissed me back…at first…before you fled my presence? Would you kiss him like that?”
She blushed and dropped her gaze. “Your kiss…made me forget momentarily. I was thinking of you then.”
“Ah, and then you remembered him.”
She nodded.
So it seemed his efforts to relax her had worked initially, but then…. “What did I do that brought the return of your fears?”
Understanding hit him when she rubbed her wrists.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“I-It was too much like my dream. He tried to strangle me. Said he knew where I was, and that I would die this time.” A shuddering sob escaped her. It reminded him of what Emma did after having cried for a long period of time. If he were not already on his knees that heartbreaking sound would have brought him there.
He touched the tear stains on her pale cheek. “Was this dream also like a memory? Perhaps of your death?”
“No, no.” She shook her head, and threw her arms around his neck. “This was too real. It was like he was really here.”
That caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end. He hugged her closer, and rubbed his hands over her shoulders and arms.
Christian looked at the stone wall in front of him. “Why do you want to get back in?”
“The message.” Moisture from her tears soaked through his shirt and got his shoulder wet. “I wanted to read the message.”
“The one that says you’re loved?”
Her head rubbed against his shoulder when she nodded.
He combed through her honey-colored tresses, enjoying the softness as it slipped along his palm, enjoying the scent of sugared spices released by the touch. “I see.”
When Tessa’s fingers found his hair, he closed his eyes, enjoying that even more.
“That note was probably from your parents?” he asked, wondering if she noticed how husky the question had come out.
“I believe it is.”
He touched the cold wall trying not to think about how being this close to her affected him. “Tabitha must be right; this chamber was created by them as a special tomb for you. After…”
“’Tis possible,” she said, on another heart-twisting sob.
“Shall I take you to your new chamber?” But instead of letting her answer, he lifted her from the floor and headed down the hallway. Once inside, he cleared his throat of any huskiness, set her feet upon the floor, and said, “I’ll send Tabitha with tea—”
“No.” Suddenly livelier, she moved to her wardrobe and put on a dressing gown. “What if he is coming for me?”
“I don’t believe that is possible. Sweetheart, it has been centuries. How could he still be alive? Even the thought is unimaginable.”
“But—what if he too is a ghost?”
“A spirit cannot murder another spirit. And you’re alive.” He looped arms around her, tucked her cheek into his shoulder, and held her close. Dropping his chin onto her head, he said softly, “It was only a nightmare, Tessa, a very vivid one, but nothing more.”
“I just do not know…”
Christian leaned back and peered down at her. Green eyes, wet with tears, looked upward. He went on, “There is no evidence of him having been here. It was only—”
“I-I almost died, Christian! I could not get any air!”
She spoke with such emotion he had no choice but to examine her neck. But after lifting her chin and brushing her hair aside for a closer look, he saw no sign of an attack. Her creamy complexion was not marred with bruises, and even the love bite had faded. “There is nothing here. Are you hurting?”
“No.”
Proof enough that he was right. “Even if his ghost had attempted to murder you, even if he had such incredible power, why would he let you live? Were you released when you awakened?”
Confusion swirled in her gaze. “Yes.”
“You see? Only a dream.”
When she looked at him with her heart in her eyes like that, he could do nothing else but hug her again, trying to comfort her, trying to help her see she was safe with him and need not fear.
“Ah, I see you found her. Where was she?” asked Tabitha.
“In my bed. Sleeping.”
The witch gifted them with one of those critical gazes she did so well. “What happened?” she asked next as she took in the signs of Contessa’s emotional distress.
“She had a nightmare.”
Contessa explained the dream and Tabitha listened intently.
They had tea and cakes for breakfast. It was not common for him to have sweets first thing in the morning. But her, he would indulge. However, it seemed Tessa had lost her appetite as she peered out the window, folding sugar into the drink for several minutes—for much longer than what was needed to get the sweetness properly dissolved. He sensed her pulling away.
“Tessa, look at me.”
She obeyed, but the emotion-filled gaze sh
e presented troubled him. Sadness, hopelessness, and fear resided there.
“Darling, what is the matter? Is the nightmare still concerning you?”
Contessa sighed, but before she could answer, Jackson entered.
“If I might interrupt, Christian, there is a party approaching,” said Jackson.
“A party?”
“Yes, my lord, several men on horseback and a carriage.”
“Is there a crest upon it? Do you recognize it?”
“Yes, my lord, and…no, my lord.”
A thundering knock sounded at the door.
“Shall I get it?” Jackson made the offer, but he looked terrified at the idea.
Prompting Christian to ask, “Why do you fear them?”
The old man sputtered a bit of nonsense Christian couldn’t understand, and concern unfurled itself inside his stomach. He stood. “Have a seat, Jackson. I’ll send them away.” He strode toward the hallway, unable to mask the sudden tension coursing through his veins. They could have had the decency to send along calling cards beforehand, he thought angrily. Even Muriel had offered that common courtesy.
Jackson sank into the nearest chair, gratitude shining back from his brown eyes.
But Jackson’s behavior had spooked Christian. “Both of you stay here. Relax,” he said before exiting the room. He attempted to mask the concern in his tone, but feared he hadn’t succeeded. Could highwaymen have chosen to rob him? He didn’t think it was likely, but he did live near the woods where they were known to frequent, so it wasn’t unheard of…. His momentum had slowed, and he paused in front of the tall hutch next to him. It stood in the hallway more for looks than function, but he’d made good use of his mother’s decorative ways. He thought about the handguns he’d hidden on the top. It was high enough to keep Emma from finding the weapons, but also within easy reach for an emergency. Which this could very well be…. Or perhaps not. Why would bandits bring a carriage with a crest displayed for any to see? Unless perhaps they’d stolen that, too.
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