Haunted by the Earl's Touch

by Ann Lethbridge

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Not letting you out of my sight.’

  ‘I promise you, I am not going anywhere.’

  He gave her a long considering look and then seemed to come to some decision. ‘Before I went to St Ives, I went out to the mine.’

  He reached into his watch pocket with two fingers and pulled forth a few strands of fabric. ‘I found these.’

  She frowned at them.

  ‘Strands of ribbon caught on an iron spike in the wall at the top of one of the deepest shafts in the mine.’ His voice was hard and cold.

  She raised her gaze to meet his and was surprised at the bleakness she saw in those metallic eyes.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said in a voice as cold as ice.

  She shivered. ‘Sorry that I did not fall to my death?’

  He grasped her arm and pulled her hard against him, looking down into her face. ‘I would not see harm befall you, Mary.’

  ‘Not now we are to be married, at least.’

  He swung away with a soft curse, leaving her wishing he was still holding her and hating herself for that weakness.

  ‘I thought your story was a lie,’ he gritted out. ‘Finding you on the road, heading away from the mine, was all the proof I needed that you were running away.’

  Guilt nagged at her, forcing her to speak the truth. ‘I was. What fool would stay and risk their life?’

  ‘And you are not a fool.’ He let go a short sigh. ‘It wasn’t me who pushed you.’

  A rush of relief rushed through her, followed swiftly by logic and doubt. ‘If not you, then who? Only you benefit by my death.’

  He winced and scrubbed at his chin. ‘I know.’

  ‘Some friend trying to help you? Your friend Lord Templeton, perhaps?’

  Startlement entered his gaze. ‘Why would you say that?’

  ‘You employed his help to seek information about me.’

  ‘Templeton works for the government. He has access to information and informers. He is right now looking for your Mrs Ladbrook. I hoped she might shed some light on what it was my grandfather was up to with this will. I can assure you he was nowhere near the mine yesterday.’

  ‘Then who could it be?’

  ‘Jeffrey.’

  ‘Your heir.’

  ‘A true Beresford, despite his proclivities. A man my grandfather would have preferred over me, without a doubt.’

  Proclivities? She didn’t think she wanted to know. ‘But how would my death benefit him, when it is you who stands in the way of the title?’

  He looked at her for a long moment, as if debating with himself as to what to reveal. He took a deep breath. ‘If you die and I am found guilty of your murder, he will inherit.’

  The air left her lungs in a rush. If this was true, then neither of them was safe. She paced to the window and back. ‘Do you have reason to suspect him?’

  ‘I saw him near the brewer’s dray moments before the barrel broke lose. Someone in this house was making those noises in the room above your chamber and he and Gerald hung around the mine as lads enough to know it better than most.’

  When she looked at him, she saw there was trepidation in his eyes, as if he feared she would not believe him. Did she? Her heart certainly wanted to. But her mind was a whole other matter.

  It sounded logical. But only if he had not wanted her dead. She wanted to believe it, but—

  ‘I think news of our impending wedding made him desperate,’ he said.

  There was something in his tone which gave her pause. He was looking at her so intensely a hot shiver raced down her back. In two quick strides he was across the room. His fingers formed a cage for her cheeks and they were trembling. His expression was dark, almost murderous.

  ‘Bane?’ she gasped.

  ‘I looked into the abyss, Mary. Right into the bowels of the earth. It was impossible that you did not fall to your death.’

  The strain in his husky voice was a tangible thing. It swirled around them like the dark centre of a storm as if he held some deep emotion under terrible control.

  ‘Yet here I am,’ she said lightly, for it was light that was needed. Something to chase away this terrible darkness.

  ‘Yes. Here you are.’ Slowly he lowered his head, his eyelashes shielding his eyes, his mouth hovering above hers, waiting for permission.

  And wanton that she was, she wanted to feel the pressure of his lips against hers, to experience the wild sensations his kisses sent rippling through her body. And why should she not kiss her fiancé?

  She lifted her mouth to his and he brushed her mouth with parted lips, soft, warm, pliable, wooing. She flung her arms around his neck and kissed him back, hard and demanding, exploring his mouth with her tongue as she had learned so very recently. He growled low in his throat and her pulse jumped.

  She clung to him, tasting, exploring, giving in to riotous sensations. It all felt new again. Exciting. Novel. Not different, but fresh. His hand wandered her back in slow widening circles, while her fingers tangled in the hair at his nape.

  The warm caressing hand stroked her ribs, her buttocks, and the hand at her waist moved to capture her breast, the thumb gently grazing the nipple through her gown until she thought she would go mad with the tension building inside her.

  He was everything she had missed in her life, though she hadn’t known it was lacking. Male heat. Masculine strength. He had the power to stir up all the feminine urges she’d denied. He made her flush with heat from her head to her heels. To feel the blood pumping in her veins and her body thrum with desire was exhilarating.

  It was a kiss that lasted for ever, yet was over too soon. Their lips seemed to cling and on a groan, he tasted her jaw and nuzzled into her neck.

  ‘Once we wed,’ he whispered, ‘you will know nothing but pleasure, I promise.’

  A promise that made her insides clench.

  ‘Right now, though,’ he breathed gently, ‘you need to rest. I will sit here in the chair and watch over you.’

  ‘To make sure I do not leave?’ She could not help the bitterness in her voice.

  He grimaced. ‘To bed, Mary. Now. Or I cannot be responsible for what I do. I will give you five minutes to prepare and no more.’

  His tone was so dark, so fierce, she undressed quickly and hopped into bed.

  * * *

  A scream. The sound of it echoed in his head. Filled the darkness. He couldn’t see, couldn’t get to her, but he knew they were hurting her.

  ‘No,’ she cried out.

  He struggled wildly in the folds of his coat, which they had pulled over his head. It held his arms pinned to his sides. He was panting, struggling for breath, and the one holding him was laughing.

  This was his fault. He should not have gone to the mine after she forbade him. Should not have lost his temper. Should not have made her come looking for him.

  ‘Let me go,’ he shouted. Tried to shout. The cloth muffled his voice, made it hard to breathe.

  And then they were gone. He fought his way out of his coat.

  Fought to find his way to the sounds of sobbing.

  Free from restraint, Bane shot bolt upright. In a chair. He was watching over Mary, not searching for his mother on a cold Welsh hillside.

  The damned dream had returned. Cold sweat trickled down his back. Why now, when he hadn’t had it for years?

  His gaze sought out Mary. She lay on the bed, still and silent, one arm flung above her head, her beautiful blonde hair tumbling around her shoulders. She looked too delicious for words. Too perfect to be true. And perhaps she was, but he wanted her. And so he would make her his wife in spite of his anger against his scheming grandfather. As long as he kept his distance, didn’t allow himself to form an attachment, the marriage could work to the benefit of both. Oh, yes, he could already imagine the benefits as his body hardened.

  A woman sobbed. Not Mary. His gaze shot to the chamber door. Another scream ripped through the air. His blood ran cold. Desire fle
d.

  Mary sat up, clutching the sheets to her breasts.

  ‘Its all right,’ he said softly.

  ‘The White Lady,’ she said, her voice trembling, pointing across the room. Bane stared at the apparition floating beside the red glow of the fireplace. Behind the eerie figure was what appeared to be a gaping hole in the wall.

  The ghostly shape faded into the blackness.

  Mary crawled out of bed on the other side, clutching that damned poker again.

  ‘What the devil is going on here?’ he bit out.

  ‘The tunnel,’ she whispered.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ he cursed. ‘You knew about that?’ He pointed at the hole in the wall.

  Her eyes widened. Innocence? Or something else? ‘There is a passageway behind the wall,’ she whispered. ‘I thought you knew.’

  He grimaced. ‘If I had known, I would never have let you sleep here.’

  He reached for his discarded coat and pushed his feet into his shoes.

  ‘You are going after her?’ Her voice shook.

  Fear. She was afraid. A roiling surge of anger ripped through him. His lips drew back from his teeth in a snarl. How dare they terrify his woman? He was going to beat whoever was doing this to a pulp.

  She recoiled, staring at him.

  Dear God, now she was fearful of him. He fought for control. Remembered who had suffered the last time he let his temper get the best of him and put out a hand. ‘We have to put a stop to this, that is all.’ There, that sounded reasonable.

  She put her poker down on the bed and slipped on her robe. ‘The tunnel leads to the chamber above.’ She hesitated. ‘It also runs along behind your room.’

  Horrified, he grasped her arm as she was in the process of tying the belt. She looked up at him, startled. ‘Are you telling me you have been in that tunnel?’

  She nodded. ‘I discovered it by chance. According to the history book it leads down to the sea caves.’

  ‘Smugglers,’ he said, as it all became clear. ‘The Beresfords were nothing but a pack of pirates and smugglers in Good Queen Bess’s day. That’s how they gained their wealth and the title.’

  She nodded.

  ‘Manners said the tunnels were closed up. Fallen in.’

  ‘Apparently not,’ she said drily.

  He almost laughed. God, this woman awed him with her pragmatic little comments. ‘Stay here. I am going to put a stop to Jeffrey’s tricks once and for all.’

  ‘You think it is Jeffrey.’

  ‘Who else would it be?’

  ‘Gerald?’ She sounded tentative. ‘There is something odd about that boy.’

  ‘He went with his mother to visit friends. Jeffrey was to go with them, but changed his mind at the last, Manners told me.’ He pulled on his coat and picked up a candle.

  She picked up her poker. ‘I’m coming with you.’

  That was all he needed. A woman and, in particular, this woman to look after while he chased down a man who wanted them both dead. ‘No. Wait here.’

  She pushed her feet into her slippers. ‘What if he comes back another way? According that history book, there are several entrances.’

  The back of his neck prickled at the thought of her being found alone. His chest tightened. He ought to find someone to look after her.

  Another shriek issued from the tunnel. The prankster. Or it could be someone in trouble. He didn’t want Mary in harm’s way. If anything happened to her—

  ‘We are wasting time,’ she said, hefting the poker with a determined look on her face.

  She wasn’t going to stay here no matter what he said. Something warm swelled up to fill the hollow space in his chest. He pushed it aside. Now was not the time to examine what it meant. ‘Come if you must, but stay close.’

  She nodded her agreement. It would have to do. He picked up the candlestick on the night table and ducked through the wall.

  ‘That way leads to the chamber above,’ she whispered, pointing.

  The sounds were not coming from that direction. He turned the other way. He could not help feeling amazed by the extent of the structure. Whoever had built this had done so quite deliberately. He frowned. Why had no one told him of their existence? They had clearly been well maintained. He would be having a word with Manners very soon. And his steward. It seemed their loyalties did not lie with their new earl.

  He could feel Mary walking behind him, hear her light rapid breathing. She was afraid. Of course she was. What was he thinking letting her come with him? What if something happened and he wasn’t able to protect her? A chill crept up from his gut. It wouldn’t be the first time he hadn’t been able to protect the woman in his care. Bile rose in his throat.

  He would not let that happen again. He wasn’t a boy and there wasn’t a man who could withstand him. Especially not the puny, effeminate Jeffrey. Mary was safer with him than alone. She had to be.

  Ahead, the tunnel branched off in two directions.

  He looked back and she hesitated for a moment. ‘That way goes down to the caves.’ She pointed left.

  She didn’t sound sure.

  He turned right. In seconds they came to a dead end. To his surprise, Mary slipped around him and grabbed the sconce on the blank wall facing them. As she turned it, the wall began to shift.

  So that was how it was done.

  He held the candle higher, revealing a small room. ‘A priest’s hole.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ she whispered, stepping inside. ‘Look.’

  He followed her and looked around. The little room was lined with shelves—well, pigeonholes—each one containing a scroll of some kind and there were other shelves holding boxes full of papers.

  ‘The muniment room,’ he said. ‘So this is where all the old papers are. I wondered why there was so little in my grandfather’s study. No charters. No letters.’ It had been puzzling him for days.

  The sound of moaning and rattling chains came from behind them. Mary jumped. He put an arm around her shoulder and realised that for all her brave outward appearance, she was trembling.

  ‘You should go back,’ he said. ‘Leave Jeffrey to me.’

  Her expression turned mulish. ‘I’m coming with you. I intend to give that young man a piece of my mind.’

  Bane could not help the smile that formed on his lips at the image of her slicing at the little worm with the edge of her tongue. It would indeed serve him right. Once more they plunged into the tunnel and took the other fork.

  At the next corner, the draught blew out his candle. He cursed softly as Mary clutched at his coat. Bane let his eyes adjust, but there really wasn’t any light at all. It was pitch black. Just like the mines he loved. The only way to move forwards was by feel. ‘Keep hold of me,’ he whispered.

  The ground began to slope steeply downwards. They were going deeper and deeper into the earth, and the sound of the sea was getting louder. After a while, the floor flattened out. The tunnel must have widened out, too. On his right he could still touch the wall, but to his left, no matter far out he reached, he could feel nothing.

  Aware that Mary had a good grasp of his coat-tails, he felt his way forwards, testing the way ahead with his foot before taking a step. He had no wish to tumble down a hole or into the sea.

  A light glimmered off to the left. It went out instantly. Even so, it was there just long enough to show they were in a natural cavern.

  He turned to face Mary. ‘How much of these caves did that blasted book show?’ he murmured directly into her ear, inhaling the scent that was uniquely her.

  ‘I didn’t take much notice of the caves,’ she muttered. ‘But I think there was only one leading out to the sea.’

  ‘We are going back.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘We have no light. No weapon. And we have no idea where we are. I am not chasing a will o’ the wisp when I have no hope of catching him.’ He made to step around her to head back the way they had come. His foot slipped off the edge of a rock and slid down. His h
eart jolted as he came to rest one leg knee-deep in water with Mary clutching his arm. He cursed under his breath, but thanked providence it wasn’t any deeper. He could have pulled her down with him.

  ‘Bane,’ she cried out.

  ‘I’m fine,’ he said. ‘You can let go now.’ He scrambled back up the rocks to her side. ‘This is why we have to go back.’

  A glowing figure appeared in front of her. ‘Boo!’

  Mary screamed.

  Bane curse as he looked over her shoulder at what was clearly a person wearing a sheet and carrying a lantern beneath it. ‘Jeffrey, you idiot. What game are you playing?’

  ‘I am the White Lady,’ the apparition moaned. ‘It is your turn to die.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  The light grew brighter, blinding Bane until his eyes adjusted. The figure behind the lantern was masked by the glare of the light, but he had no problem making out the pistol pointing at Mary. His stomach fell away.

  ‘What the hell are you doing?’ he growled. ‘Put that thing down before you hurt someone.’

  ‘Turn around and continue on.’ There was no ghostly voice this time.

  ‘Gerald,’ Mary exclaimed. ‘Stop this at once.’

  Gerald? Now that was a surprise, but she had suspected the younger man.

  Gerald laughed and it was an eerie sound that echoed off the cavern walls. ‘Do as you are told. Turn around,’ he said. ‘Bane, you go first. Watch your step, the rocks are slippery.’

  ‘It would be easier to see if you gave me the light,’ Bane said, hoping the boy would be stupid enough to try it.

  ‘Don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of light in a moment. Walk straight ahead and you will be fine.’

  He lifted the lantern higher and Bane was able to make out the path ahead. They came to an outcrop of rock and the path disappeared around it.

  ‘Stop,’ Gerald commanded.

  Bane did so. He reached back to where Mary was holding on to his coat and gave her hand a squeeze, offering comfort, hoping she would realise he was biding his time, waiting for an opportunity that would allow him to deal with this mad man.

  His gut clenched. Fear that he would fail Mary, as he had failed his mother. No. He wasn’t a weakling boy held down by a full-grown man. He just needed patience. To wait until the time was right.