Fair Maiden (9 page)

“Three lumps, if you will.”

There was a plopping sound as his butler dropped the cubes
into the man’s tea.

“My lord?” Jackson asked, turning to Christian.

“Two, thank you.”

Jackson nodded, added the requested sugar into Christian’s
cup and then exited the room drawing the doors closed behind him.

With a sigh, Christian attempted to prompt the man to get on
with it since he’d done nothing more than stir his tea. Silently. For several
moments.

And when that failed to get a response, he cleared his
throat loudly.

That worked. “Well…” Leeraby began, setting his spoon onto
the plate beside his teacup, “Your father got your message and he was not
pleased, I’m afraid.”

The solicitor’s eyebrows lifted when Christian bit out a
curse.

“He feels quite strongly about this, Lord Krestly.”

“There must be something I can do to please him. I simply
cannot get married so hastily.”

Leeraby sipped at his drink, frowned and then added another
lump of sugar. “He said his wishes were clear: Get married and you will gain
the first portion.”

“Would my attendance at the parties appease him?” Christian
bargained.

With lips curling into a smirk, Mr. Leeraby said, “Your
mother would be quite delighted with that, and I may be able to persuade her
into persuading your father into giving you an,” the man took a breath,
“advance, especially after such a fine showing of effort on your part.”

“Then when is the next soirée?” Christian reached for the
pile of invitations Jackson had restacked on the corner of the desk. He sifted
through them and then said, “Ah, this weekend at the Wimple’s. I shall attend.”

“Very good, very good. They put on a fine ball. I should be
bringing you a check within the next week.”

“Perfect,” hoped Christian, but inwardly he was cursing it
was a ball and not just a dinner party. He detested those things. The dancing
did not really trouble him. He could spin a girl around the dance floor as well
as anyone. Again, it was the people that grated on his patience. But if this
got him enough money to drag this out a bit longer, then he would grit his
teeth and bear it.

Leeraby left, and Christian went to check on her. She’d not
shown herself since last night. This troubled him. Approaching the wall where
her door was, he knocked on the cold, solid stone. “Lady Ghost, are you there?”

After several moments she did not answer.

“Princess, please, forgive me for last night.” He set his
forehead against the wall and sighed. “I beg you.”

He waited, rapped on the unforgiving rock another time, then
leaned away and examined his knuckles which were turning red. “Darling, can you
hear me?” he called again, louder this time.

Then he heard an odd squeak behind him. After one glance
over his shoulder, he groaned and turned around to face the maid. “Well, hello,
Miss Ann, how are you?”
Brilliant, he’d been caught talking to no one else
but air and stone.

She curtsied as her eyes shifted from him to the blank wall
and back to him. “I-I’m fine, my lord.” She leaned to the side, probably trying
to see what had him so enthralled, but there was nothing there to see. “Is
something amiss? Is there anything you need, Lord Krestly?”

“No thank you. Be on your way,” he said gently.

“Yes, sir.” She dipped into another quick curtsy and then
scurried away as though he were a few sandwiches short of a picnic.

No doubt, there could be some truth to that, he thought as
he dropped his shoulder blades against the wall and slid down it to his rump.
“Princess, open the door. Please,” he whispered.

Suddenly, after a soft clicking sound, he fell backward as
the wall vanished from behind him.

Flat on his back, he looked up to see her looking down at
him. Her honeyed tresses created a curtain of gold around her face. She was not
smiling.

“Are-are you all right?” he asked.

Again, she spoke not a single word as she righted herself
and moved into her chamber.

Christian pushed himself up from the floor and followed.
“Thank you for opening the door.”

Still she did not answer. She simply gazed out the window as
if he were not truly there. She was situated in a seated pose on the
windowsill, the skirt of her golden dress billowed to the floor like a
waterfall of precious metal and her hands were folded in her lap. He watched as
the wind caught her hair, ribbons and veil and toyed with them. Then wondered
how that was possible, but then again, it did frequently appear as though a
breeze stirred about her whether there was a draft available or not.

He strode to her and spoke. “What might I do to help? How
may I comfort you?”

“There is naught you can do for me.” She looked at him, her
eyes glittering with unshed tears. “I am dead.” Then she returned her attention
to the view.

Christian sighed, and then settled onto the floor below the
window. He crossed his arms over his bent knees. “There must be something.” He
paused to consider that, then said, “I enjoy your company. Have you, too,
enjoyed our conversations?”

“I have,” she said softly, now looking down at him.

“Then let us continue as we have.”

Silently she considered him, and when he tossed a big grin
and a wink her way, she smiled and attempted to mask a giggle behind her hand.

Pushing to his feet, he moved closer and seated himself on
the sill next to her. “’Tis a fine view, is it not?”

“It is lovely. Do you know your lands? Do you know who
dwells within the forest?”

“That I do not,” he admitted. “I haven’t been here long
enough to explore it. Shall we go riding today, and see what there is?”

Her emerald eyes brightened. “Yes, please.”

Again, like a fool, he tried to take her hand into his. She
pouted as his fingers passed through hers, and, hoping to distract her, he
asked, “Should we take two horses or one?”

“I do not think I can ride.”

“Then we take one.”

Christian requested his horse be prepared and then invited
her to sit with him when it was.

He gingerly wrapped his arms about her slim waist as he took
the reins. “Shall we see who lives within the woods?”

“Do you own that land?”

“I don’t know for certain.”

He edged his horse toward the fringe of trees skirting the
grassy hill. With her seated in front of him, her head kept bobbing up within
his line of sight, but it did not matter, for he could see through her.

As they neared the trees, his curiosity and sense of
adventure grew, and he kicked his horse into a gentle gallop.

It was pure instinct, when Prince began its decent down the
steep slope, for Christian to slip his arm tightly around her waist, but he
encountered nothing more than electricity and warmth.

They had neared the bottom when, unexpectedly, she slid
right though him and he experience a wave of heat from front to back. He
realized that he’d found the barrier she’d mentioned before.

He yanked on the reins, and his sudden movement startled the
horse causing it to rear. “Whoa!” Christian shouted as he lost his seat and
fell to his rump on the ground with a grunt. “Whoa, Boy. Whoa!” The horse
settled quickly enough, and he sighed in relief.

Christian shoved back to his feet, brushing bracken off his
backside as he twisted to look at her.

She hovered behind him several feet away looking—amused?

“Are you all right?” Christian asked.

“Of course
I’m
all right,” she replied slowly, and
then he thought he heard her giggle.

“You find this funny?” He gave the lapels of his coat a jerk
to straighten it.

Covering her mouth with four fingers, she snickered again.
There was no mistaking it this time. The ghost was laughing at him.

“You have a bit of grass in your hair,” she pointed out with
another dainty titter.

With fingers raking along his scalp, he located the weeds
and plucked them loose, then tossed them away.

“Do you still plan to explore the woods?” she asked.

His fists landed on his hips. “Well…” He turned to consider
the dense foliage flanking the landscape below. “I think I will.” He felt
defiant—she was laughing at him! “And should I expect you to wait here for me?”

That removed her smirk. The ghost peered over his shoulder
and then shuddered. Ah, he thought, she is frightened of the woods. The girl
proved his musing to be true when she said, “I think perhaps I will return to
the castle.”

“We came out riding to explore together. Will you not tarry
longer to see what I discover?”

Again, she tossed a nervous glance toward the trees. “I
think not.”

“So you’re deserting me?”

“Deserting you?” She pointed. “I cannot go that way!”

“You could wait.”

The ghost was drifting away already.

“Now why won’t you stay? Nothing can harm you here.”

She didn’t look convinced and spun away from him, a frown
tugging downward at her mouth. Even though he was disappointed to see her go,
the fact that she still managed to look adorable when she did that did not
escape him.

“I’m going back,” she said. “You may explore the forest on
your own.” Her words sounded like a command, and then he realized something.
She did not curtsey as his maid had. In fact, she
never
curtseyed! A
smile curled along his lips. She could very well be high-born. Such manners
were trained to the point they were second nature. If this girl were anyone
less than noble, she would dip into a lady-like sweep as was expected of her.
Yet, never had she done that!

And he could not blame her for her unpredictable
temperament. Indeed, at least she trusted him again, even after his attack on
her tender emotions the other night. Which he was still kicking himself for.

Christian spoke soothing words to his mount as he wedged his
foot into the stirrup and swung back into the saddle.

Steering the horse toward the tangled trees, Christian
determined to explore this land while he was here. He set a hand on his gun to
reassure himself of safe passage against any highwaymen or ruffians he might
encounter, then edged Prince forward.

The towering firs closed in around him and smothered out the
bright light of the sun. The world took on a cast of green as his horse trudged
through thick underbrush and other forest plant life. Very little bark was
visible around the spongy moss that blanketed the trees.

Christian was glad he couldn’t actually bring her in here.
It was eerie, even for him, and chills defied gravity as they trickled up his
spine.

After exploring what he suspected was a mile or more out,
Christian encountered a choking mist that felt more like a wall than a settled
cloud. The hairs on the back of his neck rose, voicing a warning to him.
Christian knew better than to ignore such feelings, and decided to turn back.

He redirected his mount and picked up the pace again with a
nudge from the heels of his boots. Breathing a sigh of relief as he broke
through the foliage and spied his castle, Christian knew his worry of getting
lost had been unfounded.

After a warm and comforting dinner of roasted duck, boiled
potatoes, and another slice of apple pie, he settled into bed with a full
stomach and a contented sigh.

Chapter
9

Dream
or Memory?

She was walking,
really
walking down a long corridor
inside a castle. Not drifting, or hovering. Gravity had its hold and held her
comfortably against the floor. The feeling was richly natural and familiar.
This place felt familiar.

Yes
, she thought,
this
is my home
.

Somehow she knew seven doors down, to the right, was her
bedchamber. And her parent’s was just across from that. Both chambers looked
out upon the grand gardens, which she also knew. She could picture them now
even though she could not see them. This
is
where she came from.

Rows and rows of stone archways extended before her. Large
wooden doors marched along either side. Doors like the one to her bedchamber at
that unfamiliar castle. All of them carved with a diamond pattern on the
surface, and ornately dressed with hinges curling along the surface. She could
feel her slippers sink into the red, woven Persian carpet that stretched along
the hallway. She shivered as a draft caused gooseflesh to bloom along the
length of her arms and legs, yet that too was familiar.

The corridor was well-lit, just as she knew it had always
been, and it was richly decorated with many gold-framed paintings. She
recognized the ornate design of the blazing torches which were mounted between
the doors to highlight the artwork. The detail of each painting also rose up
within her memory. The one of the English countryside with the little red
flowers dotting the hillside was one of her favorites….

She knew she had a purpose here. She knew she was going
somewhere she wanted to go. It was not her bedchamber; though that was the
direction she was headed. She puzzled over the where and why of her path as she
moved along the hallway, yet remained unable to recall.

Quite unexpectedly, a heavy hand fell roughly over her mouth
as another seized her about the waist and jerked her against a solid form.

Hot breath rasped against her cheek, and in one swift motion
her feet were lifted from the floor and she was hauled unceremoniously into a
darkened chamber.

A whimper was pushed from her lungs when she was shoved, not
at all gently, against a wall within the chamber.

Her eyes adjusted to the dark and the face of her attacker
came into focus…yes, she recognized him too. Prince Dominic Renard’s cruel
expression was too close for comfort. She shoved on his shoulders. “Let me go,”
she heard herself say.