“Christian?” she queried, unwilling to remain quiet any
longer.
After three short strides, he was kneeling down in front of
her taking her hand into his. “Darling, what is the matter?”
“That is what
I
would like to know. Am I in—is there
a problem?”
Tabitha settled into Christian’s vacant spot next to her.
“Now, now, my sweet, do not fret. We will take care of you.”
“But I heard you—”
“The witch has told me that she only had the
impression
you were in danger,” added Christian, his tone slightly mocking.
Tabitha’s smile wilted, she cleared her throat. “Either way,
love, you have nothing to fear. You have me and…Lord Sparks to look after you.”
The way the witch said that, Tessa sensed the wee woman
perceived she was more capable of protecting her than Christian. He cringed as
though his pride had taken a direct hit. She remembered Dominic from her dream
and knew Christian’s strength would be needed in facing the prince, but she
sensed more darkness about him, as though muscular power was not all that would
be required to defeat him. She shuddered.
“But, Christian” –she gripped his hand tighter— “he is a
killer.”
“What’s this?” asked Tabitha.
Tessa turned to her. “The one who did this to me. Prince
Dominic Renard.”
“And you know he’s the one who murdered you?”
“Well, no…”
“How do you know about him?”
“The dream…”
“I believe he’s dead,” said Christian. “He has to be.”
“Right,” said Tabitha.
The witch and the earl continued to debate the best way to
protect her and the tension thickened to the point she was physically weary of
it. She gathered up her book, a butter biscuit, and made for the door. “I think
I shall retire.” She’d kept her fingers curled around Christian’s and had
expected him to escort her as he’d done the other night.
But Tabitha interrupted, “As your chaperone, I will take
you.” The witch gathered her hand from Christian and tucked it into hers.
“But…. Might I have a moment alone with him, please?”
Silence hung between them for a moment or two as Tabitha
swept a critical gaze over Christian before releasing her and swishing away
with a flutter of her skirts. “I will be just outside,” she said, pulling the
doors closed behind her with a sharp snap.
After watching the doors with a handsome scowl, Christian
twisted to face her. “What is it, Tessa?”
Her eyes passed over his dimple-naked cheek and she realized
she missed his smile, which he had not presented even once since Tabitha had
arrived.
“Why do I need a…Tabitha for a chaperone? I thought Jackson—”
“—cannot help you in all the ways a woman can.”
“He is right, love,” said the witch through the door.
“Modern gowns are too fussy and very difficult to get on and off by yourself.”
After first rolling his eyes, he smiled. She touched the
divot that appeared, smiling too.
They gazed at each other for several silent moments, before
Christian said, “I’ve been aching, Tessa…”
Tessa suspected he spoke in subtle tone so Tabitha would not
be able to continue eavesdropping. “Aching?” she echoed, just as softly. “Do
you have a bellyache for the foolish way we have been overindulging?”
With a low chuckle, he dropped his whisker-shadowed chin and
shook his head. Then his expression shifted, his face lifted, and the focused
looked he fixed on her was almost palpable. His eyes darkened with an intensity
she’d seen a few times now, and it always preceded a kiss.
Oh
. She
exhaled. That is what he was aching for.
Her hand fell away from the bristly texture of his cheek as
Christian gathered hers between his palms and then, quite abruptly, planted a
firm kiss upon her forehead.
His mouth then traveled a whisper-soft path of kisses to her
cheeks, and nose, and chin, thoroughly snatching any breath left in her lungs.
Christian’s caress passed briefly over her lips before he moved to her
neck…then the door opened and he released her. His right hand flew to his neck
as he massaged his nape. It seemed to her he was in the process of feigning
innocence, but he only succeeded in appearing guiltier.
Tessa watched him, marveling at how he’d managed to kiss her
without scraping her flesh with his afternoon growth.
Christian cleared his throat. “There are things Tabitha can
help you with which I or Jackson cannot. Plus,” he whispered, as the witch
advanced toward them, “she won’t swoon if you happen to go transparent again.”
That did make sense, she supposed, and she allowed Tabitha
to take her to the bedchamber.
The room glowed with amber-colored light from the fire and
the heat of it wrapped around her like a big cozy blanket. She began to fathom
that she just might sleep much better than she had the other night—dreaming of
butterfly kisses from the Earl of Krestly Castle.
She was distracted from those comforting thoughts by the
near daunting task of being extracted from the lovely day dress and the
complicated contraption Tabitha called a corset. It was not at all like the
much more comfortable garment she’d worn in her day which only consisted of a
stiffened fabric, not strengthened with bone and metal. Nor did hers pinch as
much as this modern girdle did.
“Lift your arms, my sweet,” Tabitha cooed as she drew a
luxurious new night rail over her frilly camisole and drawers.
The silk had been warmed by the fire and she realized, as
the smooth, petal-soft material ghosted along her flesh, that silk had been a
common fabric of her wardrobe—because it was another familiar sensation….
The next morning she was reminded of how the clothing was
practically impossible for her to have done herself. Tabitha had to tug and tie
and button her up into the traveling dress Christian had purchased for her. Of
course the result was flattering, but Tessa was worried about spending the day
in a rocking carriage trussed up like she was. It seemed she was going to have
a dreadfully uncomfortable morning.
“I will say that I am impressed with His Lordship’s taste in
fashion,” said the witch as she pinned a cameo upon the blond lace which
trimmed the cobalt blue jacket made of soft velvet.
“He spoils me,” she said.
Tabitha chuckled. “He certainly does! He’d best be careful
before your pretty head swells.”
Tessa giggled.
After adding the finishing touch to her hair—a matching
feathered bonnet, Tabitha ushered her toward the stairs. She could smell the
stimulating aromas of breakfast from there.
It seemed the witch did not particularly like it when she
began rushing down the curved staircase. But she could not understand any of
what the woman muttered on the way down behind her.
Obviously Christian could hear her noisy approach as well,
for when she entered the dining chamber he was already standing with one hand
on a chair which had been slid from beneath the table. She curtsied and he
sketched a welcoming bow before she scurried around to the waiting seat.
Tabitha gathered her own food and took a chair situated
along the middle edge of the dining table.
Christian dished up her repast this time and when he placed
it before her, one of his hands settled onto her shoulder. The heat of his
touch had not ceased to surprise her as the scalding sensation drifted trough
velvet and linen. But when he spoke into her ear, his breath feathering against
her exposed flesh wrenched a shudder from her. She was certain he’d felt it,
but he made no mention of it as he spoke. “I quite like this dress on you,
too.”
“Thank you,” she replied at the same time a choking sound
traveled from the place where Tabitha sat.
“Are you all right, mistress Tuttlepot?” asked Christian.
“Has a bit of kipper lodged itself in you throat?”
The frail woman swallowed a gulp of tea and coughed once.
“I’m fine. Thank you very much for your concern.”
“My pleasure.”
Again Contessa could not help but wonder what was going on
between the two of them. It seemed to her they did not like one another much.
She puzzled over it as his hand moved from her shoulder, leaving it feeling chilled.
After settling back into his own seat, Christian tucked back
into his steaming breakfast with fork and knife.
The menu consisted of the same items as the day before. Upon
her plate sat a wide selection of meats along with cooked mushrooms and a slice
of roasted tomato.
But first, she reached for the bread and slathered butter
and jam onto it. Once she’d finished that, she reached for her fork and knife.
Christian said nothing about it, but she knew he watched as
she adjusted to using a fork instead of her fingers whilst eating. She knew
there had been very strict manners about dining in her time, but as she thought
about it, it almost seemed barbaric to not eat with a fork after having done so
at her past few meals in this era.
“Are you ready to return to Krestly Castle?” Christian asked
as he finished off his second helping of bacon, and cleaned off his face and
fingers with his napkin.
“Yes,” she said, though the word felt like a lie. She’d
enjoyed the city….
“Everything is packed and loaded upon the coach, my lord,”
said Jackson from the doorway.
The carriage ride was not only uncomfortable physically, but
a thick tension between the witch and the earl made it almost stifling inside
the cramped quarters. Once they arrived, Contessa was near desperate to escape
to the quiet countryside and the castle residing there.
Her attention settled and held onto the enchanting strength
of Christian as he took her about the waist and helped her from the carriage,
then escorted her inside.
Unfortunately, the moment her feet passed over the threshold
all sensation left.
“No!” yelled Christian as he looked upon her phantom form in
utter disbelief. He expelled a number of low oaths before speaking her name
over and over again, all the while attempting to touch her. But he could not,
because even as he bellowed “Contessa” for the twentieth time, nothing changed.
She peered down, and groaned at the sight of her old wedding
gown adorning her ghostly body. Her feet hovered just above the floor and she
felt so cold inside that she began to weep.
“I feared this would happen,” said Tabitha.
Christian took on a threatening stance. “Why didn’t you say
anything? I wouldn’t have brought her back here!”
“I suspect it would not have mattered.”
“How do you know that?” He stalked closer, forcing the witch
to crane her neck to keep eye contact. Amazingly, the fragile-looking woman did
not cower. “Tell me everything you know, Tabitha, or I swear I’ll—”
“Sit down!”
“Excuse me?”
“I said sit down,” she repeated slowly, as though speaking
to an incompetent youth.
When he maintained a dangerous-looking frown, and settled
his arms across his chest, the witch did not falter and continued, “Please, my
lord, let us settle into the parlor and I will explain what I suspect, though
it isn’t much.”
“This had better be
something
, Tabitha, or I will not
pay you a single shilling.”
Appearing undaunted by his threats, Tabitha settled into a
pale-green overstuffed chair situated against a wall covered in turquoise silk.
In fact every wall had been upholstered in the same manner. Contessa had passed
through this chamber before, but had not lingered to examine the décor. Her
weeping continued because she wanted more than anything to touch every
luxurious surface.
Christian motioned for her to be seated upon the settee next
to him.
Whimpering, she went and hovered there.
“Shh, darling, please do not cry. We’ll figure this out.
We’ll bring you back.” He stabbed the witch with his eyes. “We will be able to
bring her back, won’t we?”
“I fear so.”
“How! You must tell me this instant!”
“Would you like tea, my lord?” interrupted Jackson.
“No!” shouted Christian.
“Yes, please,” said Tabitha.
I wish
, thought Contessa.
“Tabitha, you’d best tell me how to bring her back. Now,” he
finished, his tone getting more threatening with each minute. The muscles along
his jaw pulsed, the veins on his neck bulged, and Tessa realized she’d never
seen him so angry.
She felt flattered he wanted her back so badly that he’d
turned into this bellowing beast. Although, she feared all the wrath in the
entire world would not restore her to the living. She was dead and the past
week had simply been a magical dream.
Tabitha went on, and her tone remained pleasant, “I fear
that a complex incantation is at work here. A very powerful one.”
“A spell. She was murdered with magic?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes.”
“What the devil do you mean by that?” Christian’s knuckles were
bone white, and Tessa got the impression he wanted to hit something, namely a
small witch who was likely more capable of defending herself than she appeared
to be.
Continuing to explain in her odd way, Tabitha said, “By
speaking her name you have fractured it.”
“Start making sense, woman, before…before…I lock you up in
the dungeon!”
At that, the little witch snickered.
Christian’s black gaze narrowed with not a little menace.
“Do not doubt my words, witch, this castle is quite old enough.”
“Oh, I do not doubt this musty demesne has one. But…”
Jackson entered with tea for two, and when she realized he
had not prepared a cup for her, a sob broke from Tessa’s throat before she
began weeping noisily again.
The sound drew Christian’s attention and the wrath slid from
his expression. “Hush, princess. I will take care of everything.” He reached
out to pat her fingers, only to have his hand pass right through her lap.