Dark Splendor (38 page)

“Martha!” The shout, reverberating from the
tower walls, came from all directions at once.

Silvia saw Roman catapult from the last step
just as Martha lunged at her.

Had he come to witness her death? It was the
end of her endurance. Her arms let go and she slid rapidly to the
floor.

Martha, hearing her name called, spun around
to look, and in so doing, stumbled over Silvia’s prostrate form.
She tumbled through the window, wild-eyed, skirts flying, hands
frantically clutching at the air. Her scream was a terrible sound
that ended Silvia’s consciousness.

***

The emerald mist faded away in her dreams.
She saw roses by the hundreds, smelled the sweet, fresh fragrance
of roses. Voices were filtering through the soft petals, trying to
wake her, but Silvia resisted her return to consciousness. She
listened, only half-hearing, wondering deep in her soul if she
would ever want to wake up again.

“If you had come to me sooner, you
rock-headed dolt, this might not have happened. Why didn’t you tell
me you suspected Martha was responsible for Silvia’s riding
accident?” Morgan’s eyes went from Silvia to Roman.

“Or if I had spoken up when I first
suspected she was behaving strangely.” Eric sighed heavily.

“She was your sister and you loved her.”
Morgan consoled.

“Yes, but I should have been the first to
see and act. Not the last to suspect,” Eric replied, his voice
steady.

“We all share the blame. We knew the old man
and what he was capable of. I should never have agreed to help him.
I should have taken Willy away years ago.”

“You did what you thought best, Vivien.”

“But it was wrong.”

“We were all wrong,” Roman added, the final
note that fully reached Silvia.

She jerked her head, feeling satin bedsheets
about her. She opened her eyes. Bending over her were all those
hazy faces from her dreams. They looked anxious, and in a moment
she deciphered their voices: Eric, Morgan, Vivien. And one other
voice, from beneath a purple hood, spoke quite clearly.

“She’s awake,” Vivien said softly, moving
away. “We ought to go,” Morgan whispered, straightening up and
following Vivien.

“I want to make sure she’s not hurt,” Eric
responded, hanging back.

“Just come along,” Morgan said impatiently,
and caught Eric’s arm. Vivien waited until they were both through
the door, then smiled and quietly shut it behind her.

Anxious eyes from the face in that purple
hood looked down on her. She moaned and twisted her head, focusing
on familiar objects in the room. She was seeing distinctly
again.

“Martha?” she asked.

“Dead from the fall.”

“Siegfried,” she whispered. “It is you, my
love.”

Her hand lifted slowly to push the hood
back.

“Not Siegfried,” he whispered.

“Oh, Roman.”

“You are disappointed?”

“Do you believe in ghosts?” She was still
uncertain Roman could have tricked her so well.

He sighed.

“Silvia, Martha had been putting an herb in
your tea. She probably thought it was deadly, but it actually only
makes one drowsy and causes distorted vision.”

Her ire rose as she guessed the meaning of
his words. “The ghost was real. He loved as no earthly man could
ever do.”

Roman’s sigh deepened. “This is Siegfried’s
cloak. I took it from the statue in the library. I wore it.” His
eyes clouded. “I was your ghost. At first I used my disguise to spy
on you, then I realized what you were searching for. I found
Wilhelm’s papers and his journals long ago, my darling. I also
found out Martha knew much more about Uncle’s scheming than any of
us ever did. She also wanted to get rid of you as none of us ever
did. In the end I played along with her, hoping she would do as I
said until I could get you safely away. My plans, however, almost
failed. Somehow Martha found out I had no intention of killing you,
despite my performance this afternoon when she and I rode
together.” Roman leaned down and kissed Silvia lightly on her lips.
“I truly must have seemed like a ghost, for the apparition gave
Martha such a scare she stumbled over you and fell to her death
from the tower windows.”

Still confused, Silvia protested. “I might
have been drugged, but my ghost, my Siegfried, was real.”

“No, love. It was I,” he mused. “See this?”
Roman raised his hand to show the gold ring she had placed there.
“Slipped on my finger in this very bed,” he whispered.

Her honey eyes sparkled with mischief as she
pushed a bouquet of roses aside to make room for him to sit. Hadn’t
she always known in her heart only Roman could truly hold her
love?

“Ghost or man, I always loved you, Roman,”
she said softly, entwining her arms around his neck.

His eyes were questioning, then threatening.
She knew she would pay merrily for her teasing.

Bemused, Roman shook his tawny head. “Will
you marry me, then, though the whole world will think our child
belongs to Willy?” He sighed heavily. “It seems old Wilhelm had his
way. He will get his heir.”

Her smile held the look of love. “He did not
win. The marriage was never consummated. Nor is there a pregnancy.”
She kissed him lightly, drawing him to her in the bed. “But perhaps
you, my love, soon
will
have an heir.”

Andrea Parnell is the award-winning author of
ten novels, short fiction and articles, with more than one million
copies of her books in print. Her works include Gothic, Western,
and other historical and contemporary romances. Several of her
books have been set in her home state of Georgia. Andrea has
received both the Maggie and Romantic Times Reviewer's Choice
awards for her writing, and is a member of Novelists, Inc. (NINC)
and past president of the Georgia Authors Network. She is fond of
cats, travel, overgrown gardens, and old houses with lots of
crooks, crannies, and interesting shadows. Please visit her website
at
AndreaParnell.com
.

Andrea at Smashwords:
http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/AndreaParnell

Follow Andrea on Twitter:
@andreahparnell

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