Bedeviled Bride (Regency Historical Romance)

by Knight-Catania, Jerrica

  Lizzie walked the outer edge of the room and grazed her fingers over the worn furniture as she explored the space. There was nothing out of the ordinary, and the swishing sound seemed to be coming from a crack in the window. Perhaps it really had been her imagination before. Either that or the perpetrator had made his way out before they'd arrived.

  Her breathing slowed as she finished her promenade and approached the other side of the door. The last bit of furniture on her journey was a banquet table shoved against the wall with a mirror hanging over it. Lizzie shuddered impulsively as her fingers grazed the table, and she looked up into the mirror.

  Her mouth opened to scream, but all that came out was a whimper as she stared at not one, but two reflections in the glass. She wanted to move, but couldn't. Her eyes were fixed on the woman who, according to the reflection, stood just behind her, at her right shoulder.

  The woman was perhaps her own age, with flowing red hair and eyes so light they couldn't have been real. Lizzie blinked, praying it was only her imagination playing tricks on her.

  “Who-who—” She tried to speak, but the woman raised a finger to her lips and smiled serenely back at Lizzie.

  Lizzie whirled around, wanting to see the woman in the flesh, to ask her who she was and why she was here, but when she turned, there was no one there. Only the empty room, with the moonlight pooling on the floor through the windows. Panicked, Lizzie turned back to the mirror to see that only one reflection remained. The woman was gone, and Lizzie was going out of her mind.

  ***

  Michael emerged from the last room on his search, part of him sad that he'd found nothing unusual, and another part of him glad for that same fact. There were always pros and cons to danger and adventure.

  As he turned into the hall, he caught sight of a dark figure moving through the shadows, toward the staircase. Ah, ha! So, there had been someone here all along. His blood sped in his veins and his heartbeat quickened with the excitement of it all. Yes, there were definitely more pros than cons to danger, and this was one of them. The rush of excitement as his body reacted to the threat of a perpetrator was exhilarating, and without a second thought, he quickened his pace.

  The figure didn't pause at the sound of his heavy footsteps. Clearly, they'd known he was there already and wished simply to escape before he caught them. Michael wasn't about to let that happen, though. Besides, this particular trespasser wasn't much of a runner, and within moments he was at his heels.

  Just before they gained the staircase, Michael threw his body into the air and landed on top of the man. Both of them tumbled to the ground. Somewhere in the back of Michael's mind, he heard a scream. A female scream. But he ignored it, intent only on detaining the thief.

  They rolled and struggled against each other, perilously close to the edge of the stairs, until finally Michael gained the upper hand and pinned his adversary to the worn carpet of the corridor.

  All the doors to the rooms were still open, the moonlight pouring from the exposed windows. A shaft of light pooled directly on the perpetrator's face.

  “God damn it, Beth!” he shouted between his labored breaths. “What in God's name are you doing here?”

  “Don't you dare curse at me, you blackguard! I came after you once I realized you'd lied to me. You could have been killed!”

  “Killed?” Michael fought to control his temper. “Me? And what about you? You're a woman, for God's sake. What the hell would you have done to protect me from a thief or a murderer?”

  “Plenty!” came his wife's acid reply. “I could have hit them over the head with a vase or stabbed them with a letter opener.”

  Michael felt his lips twitching in spite of himself. A dammed letter opener. Women. Still, it didn't change the fact that his mission could have been dangerous and she'd deliberately put herself in harm's way.

  “Elizabeth Prudence Wetherby, don't you ever do something this foolish again. Do you understand me?”

  “Why is it foolish when I do it, but not when you do it?”

  Damn her defiance! “Because I'm a man! Because I know how to fight, I know how to shoot, I know how to fence, I know how to outmaneuver and even more importantly, I know how to defend myself.”

  “How do you know that I don't know those things too?” she practically screamed in his face.

  “You will keep your voice down before you wake the entire bloody house!” Michael growled, his frustration growing with every second he spent here with his obstinate wife.

  It occurred to him then the intimate position he had her in. She lay on her back, her legs slightly spread, her arms pinned above her head by his own hands. Their faces were mere inches away from one another; he could smell the wine from their dinner on her breath. Suddenly, all his anger, all the fear he'd realized upon discovering her, dissolved into something far fiercer. Far more compelling.

  His cock jumped and pressed against her belly. Beth sucked in a surprised breath and her eyes widened in shock. But before she had a chance to say anything, Michael pressed his lips to hers. She was still for a moment and Michael was sure that at any moment she would start squirming and protesting his advance. But she didn't. As a matter of fact, she began to kiss him back.

  Her lips seemed to melt beneath his, soft and warm, inviting him to deepen the kiss. Michael accepted the invitation and used his lips to push hers further apart before he delved into her mouth. His tongue sought out hers and they both moaned when they found each other. She was so warm, her mouth, her body. They fit together perfectly in every way, her luscious curves molding to his hard planes. Dear God, he was hard as a rock!

  Beth moved against him and he freed her arms so he could wrap her in his embrace. She clutched him tight around his neck, deepening the kiss even further, as he rolled onto his back. He pulled her on top of him and reveled in feeling the suppliant weight of her pressing him into the floor. Beth didn't let up for a second. She kissed him and held to him with a strength he didn't know she had, and it occurred to Michael that there was something different. Something wrong. This wasn't just a moment of passion they'd found themselves in. There was an urgency in the way she kissed him. A desperation for...for what?

  Michael broke the kiss and pushed Beth away from him so he could look in her eyes. Her hair was wild and so was her expression. Frenzied and frightened.

  “Beth?” he asked cautiously. “What is the matter?”

  Her eyes widened, clearly surprised at his question. Had she not expected him to notice? “What do you mean? Was I not doing it right?”

  Michael almost laughed, but didn't. She was trying to avoid his question. He rolled back over and pinned her to the floor again. He laid on his side next to her, his head propped on his hand so he towered above her. “That's a foolish question, and you know it. Now, tell me what's wrong.”

  “I-I don't know,” she admitted, the fear more than clear in her eyes now. “I saw something...in that room.” She pointed towards the right side of the hallway. “Third one on the right.”

  “Damn you, Beth,” Michael said, pulling away from her. “Why the hell didn't you say so before I began mauling you in the middle of the corridor?”

  She grabbed his arm and pulled him back to her frantically. “No, don't go!” she cried. “Whatever it was is gone.”

  “Gone?” Michael stared back at her with an incredulous expression. “But I thought you were adept at handling perpetrators.”

  He thought his comment might make her laugh, but she didn't. She winced and her eyes clouded in fear. “I get the feeling that...we are the perpetrators, Michael.”

  “What are you—?” Michael stared at her for a moment, certain he must be misinterpreting her words. How on earth could they be the perpetrators? It didn't make any sense and he wondered if indeed the Highland air was wreaking havoc on his city-bride's brain. “You don't mean to imply that there are other-worldly beings in this house, do you?”

  Beth shook her head and Michael was temporarily relieved that
he'd taken the wrong meaning from her words. “No, I'm not implying. I'm telling you outright. This place is haunted.”

  Thirteen

  Michael stared back at his wife, fighting the urge to burst into laughter. Dear God, she was serious. Now he knew the woman had truly gone mad. Society be damned, he needed to get her back to London before she went completely out of her mind.

  With a deep breath, he asked, “May I inquire as to why you believe the house is haunted? Have you seen a ghost or is this just a hunch?”

  Beth rolled her eyes and tried to squirm away, but Michael held her firmly. “Let me go,” she said, irritation clear in her voice. “You wouldn't believe me either way, so what does it matter?”

  “Beth, this is an old house and we're in the middle of the Highlands. Of course you think the place is haunted. But all those stories, those legends, they're nothing more than that: stories and legends.”

  “Fine.” She successfully dislodged herself and stood until she towered over him. “Whatever you say, my lord. I'm going to bed.”

  Michael watched her for a moment as she turned to the stairs and sought out the banister to guide her in the darkness. She tripped over something on the floor and teetered slightly. Fearing she was too close to the staircase, Michael jumped to his feet and caught her around the waist.

  Beth sucked in a sharp breath, and yelled, “What are you doing?”

  “Trying to keep you from falling down the bloody stairs,” Michael retorted, annoyed that she was angry with him when she should be grateful. “You were about to plummet to your death.”

  “I was fine.”

  “You're even more delusional than I thought. Look.”

  Beth's eyes followed the line of Michael's finger to see that her toes were but an inch from the edge of the stairs. “Oh,” came her sheepish reply. “I didn't realize...thank you.”

  That was more like it. “You're welcome. Now, come. It's time for both of us to be in bed. We're going into town tomorrow and I want to get an early start.”

  “Town?” The hopefulness in his wife's voice made Michael smile.

  “Don't get too excited, my dear. It's not a very big town. But we are in desperate need of...well, just about everything. I hadn't realized the disrepair this wing was in. I can't imagine what it looks like in the daylight.”

  They walked in silence back through the house to their bedchambers. Michael held on to Beth's elbow, in case she lost her balance again in the darkness. She was rigid as a lamppost but didn't try to shrug him off. When they reached the doors, Michael turned to his wife and met her gaze. It was hard to make out her features in the gloom, but her pale eyes glowed brightly. He wanted to kiss her again. He wondered why he'd stopped in the first place.

  “Well,” she said, her voice a mere whisper. “I will see you in the morning, Michael.”

  Beth turned toward her door, but halted when Michael asked, “Will you be all right?”

  She looked back at him, a tiny grin in place, nodded and then disappeared inside her room.

  ***

  Lizzie paced her room, not caring that she was wearing a path into the intricate rug beneath her feet. Blast him! And blast this God-forsaken place! She knew what she'd seen and there was no other explanation. The house was haunted. There was a ghost in the west wing. Those two things were as certain as the sun rising in—she looked at the clock on her mantel—three hours.

  She really should get in bed and at least try to get some sleep, but she couldn't. She was too incensed over her husband's reaction to her very honest admission. It was fine if Michael didn't want to believe her. She would just have to find a way to prove to him the existence of their redheaded ghost.

  The image of the young woman flashed again in her mind and sent a shiver up Beth's spine. Suddenly paranoid, she looked around her room, half expecting to see the apparition again. But she didn't. She was alone. Very alone, she thought with sudden sadness.

  With a sigh she sank down onto the edge of her bed and stared at the wall before her. Her body ached with the memory of Michael's kiss and she closed her eyes, reliving the moment. All the fear she'd felt at the sight of her ghost, the fear that had sent her running mad from the antechamber, vanished as soon as Michael's arms were around her. He was warm and his strength was reassuring, despite the fact that his strength probably wouldn't do much good against a ghost. Lizzie realized, with great surprise, that she could have stayed there all night with him. Blast, but her resolve was melting faster than one of Gunter's ices in the hot sun.

  She licked her lips at the thought of a chocolate cream ice. Perhaps there would be a teashop in the town they visited tomorrow that sold sweet confections.

  Shaking her head, she tried to refocus on the topic at hand. The topic of her husband. The topic of his intoxicating kiss. It occurred to Lizzie, in that moment, that perhaps it was time to let go of her anger. To at least try to find happiness in her marriage. Did it really matter anymore what had happened? What they'd done to her? It was in the past, and it couldn't be changed. Did she want to live the rest of her life being angry?

  No, of course she didn't.

  Lizzie made a decision in that moment that she would cease and desist of being angry. She would find Elizabeth Prudence, the happy, carefree girl, beneath the layers of hurt and resentment, and tomorrow...

  She glanced up at the clock again.

  Today, she would turn over a brand new leaf.

  ***

  Bright sun filtered through a slit in the curtains and Lizzie held her hand up to her eyes. Why did her head hurt so much? And what time was it?

  Slowly, she pulled herself up to a sitting position and looked about the room, her eyes squinted in pain. Good Lord! She had fallen asleep at the edge of her bed, in her dinner gown from the night before. The clock told her it was earlier than she'd anticipated. With the sun so bright, she was certain it was almost noon. But it was just past eight and Michael would be expecting her for breakfast.

  “Oh!” Lizzie bounded off the bed, remembering their mission for the day. A shopping trip in town was all she needed to shake off the dregs of sleep and get moving.

  She rang for Bonnie and began removing the pins from last night's coiffure from her hair while she waited. Her mind wandered again to the night before, and just as she was getting to the part where Michael kissed her, an image appeared in her mirror beside her. She gasped, catching sight of the red hair and pale skin.

  “Good mornin', milady—oh!”

  Lizzie whirled to see Bonnie standing behind her, a look of terror in her eyes. Somehow, they'd frightened each other.

  “Are you all right, milady?”

  “I'm fine,” Lizzie said, clutching her middle while she sought to catch her breath.

  “If you don't mind my sayin' so, you don't look fine. But not to worry! I'll have you lookin' presentable in no time.”

  Lizzie fought the urge to be annoyed with Bonnie this morning. New leaf, Beth!

  Beth? Oh, blast! Now she was starting to think of herself by that wretched name. She took a deep breath. It wouldn't do to get upset over nothing on the first morning of her new, improved self. New leaf, new leaf, new leaf...

  “Oh, I almost forgot!” Bonnie said in her syrupy tone. “His lordship told me to tell you that breakfast would be on the terrace this morning, seein' as there's all those spiders in the dining room. Goodness, but there's a lot of them, all scurryin' about. Fascinating creatures, they are, if ya ever stop to observe. Why, once I saw a lady spider snatch a fly right out of the air and wrap it up for dinner!”

  “Bonnie!” The maid stopped what she was doing and snapped her head up at Lizzie's fierce tone. Lizzie felt awful at once for speaking so harshly, but her skin was crawling now, as if a thousand spiders skittered over her body. “I'm sorry, but could you please not talk about them? I have a slight...fear.”

  A hand shot to Bonnie's mouth. “Oh, milady, I'm so sorry. Do forgive me, I didn't realize.”

  Silence reig
ned, blessedly, over the remaining minutes while Lizzie prepared for the day. She continued to repeat her mantra all the way to the terrace, where she found Michael waiting for her, his hand hovered over a stack of toast.

  New leaf...

  “Good morning, husband,” Lizzie said as she moved into the sunshine. “I trust you slept well.”

  Michael's right eyebrow rose so high Lizzie thought it might pop right off the top of his face. “I did, thank you. And you?”

  “Not all that well, I'll admit,” she said as she took her seat beside Michael. “Too much...excitement, I suppose.”

  “Indeed. Coffee?” he asked, changing the subject.

  Lizzie nodded; Michael poured the coffee and slid it across the table to her. They went about breakfast in companionable silence, speaking only to ask for something that was out of reach.

  It was rather funny, Lizzie thought. The exchange reminded her of her parents.

  They could go days without talking, but one still knew they were in complete synchronization. They were forever finishing one another's movements or sentences, one picking up exactly where the other left off. She smiled as the butter knife passed absently from Michael's hand to hers, while she slid the sugar cubes in front of him.

  Michael smiled too, but said nothing. It was just as well. Why ruin such a lovely moment with words?

  Fourteen

  “What is that there?”

  Michael followed Beth's gaze out the window of the carriage. His eyes landed on a magnificent castle along the River Ness. “Inverness Castle. Lovely, isn't it?”

  “Indeed,” Beth replied.

  Her spirits seemed high as they trundled along, getting closer to the city. They'd been in the carriage for almost two hours and somehow succeeded in avoiding an argument. Beth was different today, her smile serene and sincere, and Michael was amazed that she'd managed to keep her claws retracted for this long.