Masque

Lexi
Post

Rena Mills plans to turn an abbey
into a haunted bed-and-breakfast, proving she can be successful without her
ex-fiancé. Inside the abandoned building, she finds Synn MacAllistair, the
distinguished, self-proclaimed Ghost Keeper, and soon her dreams fill with
sexual cravings for the man. At least, she
thinks
they’re dreams…

Synn is determined to free the
souls of resident spirits, blaming himself for bringing the Red Death that
killed them. When Rena steps into the old Pleasure Palace, he’s sure he can
stoke her passion to complete the Masque, allowing the souls to cross over. Her
innocent fire makes him crave, but it’s far too late for him.

As Rena begins an erotic journey,
her heart becomes more involved with every sensual caress—until she discovers that,
by completing the Masque, she’ll lose her ghosts. Synn’s betrayal wars with
compassion for her ghostly friends. Torn, she must make a choice between
financial security and freeing seventy-three souls. Either way, she could lose
Synn.

Inside Scoop:
As our heroine
makes her way through the Pleasure Rooms, she experiences a brief ménage, as
well as an encounter with another woman. Lucky girl.

A
Romantica®
paranormal erotic romance
from Ellora’s Cave

Author’s Note

Masque
was inspired by Edgar Allan Poe’s short story,
The Masque of the Red Death
, first published in 1842. In Poe’s story,
Prince Prospero seeks to escape the Red Death by gathering his aristocratic
friends and sealing them off from the rest of the town in a great abbey,
leaving his other subjects to live or die as fate decrees. On the night of the
prince’s Masque, which is held in his seven colored entertainment rooms, when
the great clock in the Black Room strikes midnight, a figure enters the party
in a mask resembling a victim of the Red Death. When the prince attempts to
kill the intruder for such audacity as to remind them all of the sad state of
affairs outside, the prince falls dead, as does everyone else in the abbey, and
the clock ceases.

But what if the intruder had been a friend who hoped to sway
the prince to do what was right by his people, only to have everything go
wrong?

Acknowledgments

For Bob Fabich, my better half, my biggest supporter, and
the love of my life. And for my sister Paige Wood for reading every manuscript
I have ever written, even those that will never see the light of day.

To Jennifer Ashley/Allyson James for her wonderful advice,
her unwavering encouragement, and for setting such a great example. Thank you.

This story was made possible due to the shrewd eyes of my
critique partner Marie Patrick who kept asking for more, my agent Jill Marsal
who provided me with excellent suggestions, and my kind and patient editor
Grace Bradley. I have learned so much from all of you.

Cape Breton, Nova Scotia

People. Living, breathing people.

Synn MacAllistair grasped the embrasure of the parapet, his
heart thudding as he stared at the vehicle crossing the stone bridge over the
moat. It came to a stop at Ashton Abbey’s massive gate.

He waited. The great iron grille, chained and padlocked
against intruders, would be considered a significant deterrent to entering.
Open
it. Damn it, open it!

The vehicle remained stationary. No one exited the large red
monstrosity.

Impatiently, he pushed away his hair as the breeze whipped
it across his view. What were they waiting for? If they needed an axe to break
the chain, he’d gladly provide them with one.

Another smaller vehicle rolling parallel to the west wall
caught his attention. It crossed the bridge and parked behind the larger one.
More people?

A man stepped from the small conveyance and shuffled to the
gate. Synn leaned farther over the battlement, anxious to see if their time had
come. The joyful sound of clanking chains floated up to him on the breeze.

Finally! About bloody time.
He swallowed hard to keep
the yell of triumph from escaping his throat. No need to scare their new
guests.

The man below hurried back to his transport and, without
hesitation, backed across the bridge and left faster than he’d arrived.

Synn peered down at the red vehicle, still as a brick, its
black windows making it impossible to see inside. A door opened and a woman
burst onto the cobblestone entrance. She bent over and spoke to someone else
still inside. Her blonde hair hid her face, but her ass, covered in men’s
trousers, was small, her legs lanky. A woman? A woman dared enter a haunted
abbey? He tried to grasp the concept.

His plan was to convince a man to enjoy the pleasures of the
flesh, but there had to be a man to convince…unless a couple entered the Abbey.
Couples enjoyed the Pleasure Rooms as well. If he could persuade a couple to
participate in the Masque then his companions could still be freed.

Peering hard, he watched and waited. After what seemed
another decade, a door on the other side of the red contraption opened. He held
his breath, willing the occupant to have broad shoulders, a beard, anything to
indicate a man.

A long, slender leg stretched out, a black high-heel shoe of
delicate design at its end, and a feminine hand grasped the side, but remained
stationary.

He growled with frustration. “Bloody hell. What am I
supposed to do with two women?” He hadn’t expected women. The Abbey overflowed
with spirits. Only men should dare enter. How were blasted women going to help
him? He paced away from the wall, but quickly returned. Could there be more
people inside the vehicle?

He waited, his patience long gone, not that he ever had
much, but damn, it’d been a hundred and fifty years. That would strain the
patience of an archangel, something he definitely was not.

He glared as the leg moved and within a moment’s breath, the
woman unfolded herself from the conveyance.

Synn stared, frozen in time for once, drinking in a beauty
far surpassing any painted Aphrodite he’d ever gazed upon. Her long, wavy brown
hair captured the sun, shining like fine brandy. Her figure, as lush as any
Greek goddess, swayed sensuously in her short dress. Her arms were bare and the
smallest of noses held her dark glasses in place. He stepped back, away from
the crenellation, his heart racing, his mind whirling with ideas.

He paced the length of the wall. A vision was about to enter
his stone prison. A woman fit to be worshiped with every salacious touch he’d
ever learned. His cock hardened beneath his pantaloons. Amazed, he stopped and
looked down at it. After so many years of having no needs—for food, for sleep,
for relieving himself—the last he’d expected to feel was the need for a woman.
He shook his head. It defied logic. But if his body could respond, then he
could participate, guide a woman through the Masque.

The creaking hinges of the gate brought him back to the wall
to see the backs of the two women entering the Abbey courtyard. Two women.
Vivid memories of his happier days with the prince caught him by surprise and
gave him hope. As he strode across the wall-walk and down the stone staircase,
his mind raced with possibilities. One after another they were discarded as he
floated to the landing on the second floor. But a new plan began to form as the
great pine doors opened.

If she hadn’t been in heels, Rena Mills would have jumped
over the threshold as she and Valerie pushed open the twelve-foot doors of
Ashton Abbey. Their creaking sound didn’t bother her. In fact, she’d be sure
those hinges never saw oil for the rest of their days. They made a perfect
first impression for a haunted bed-and-breakfast.

Valerie shook her head. “You love that noise, don’t you?”

Rena grinned sheepishly as she stepped into the two-story
stone entry the size of her parents’ house and spread her arms wide. “It’s
perfect. I can’t believe it. I’m actually going to make this happen. Can’t you
see it, Valerie?”

Her friend raised her eyebrow. “If you say so.”

“I do.” She examined the stone floor beneath her feet before
touching a wall. The hard rock under her fingers was cool and rough. Her
stomach somersaulted as success filled her veins. She could do this. Ashton
Abbey resembled a castle and tourists would love staying here. All she needed
was a little plumbing, a little electricity, a functioning kitchen, and a few
ghosts. “Seriously, Val. You can see the potential, right?”

Valerie gave her a hard look. “You don’t have to do this,
Ree. You don’t have to prove anything. That jerk is full of himself. So all
your success has come while working at your family’s company or at Bryce’s.
That’s simply because you are a good event planner. Look at me. I’ve worked for
my dad’s company all my life. That doesn’t mean I don’t know my shit.”

“It’s not about Bryce. I have to prove this to myself.” She
wished Valerie could understand.

Her friend threw up her hands and stalked away. The woman
was too confident to have any idea how it felt to be unsure. Rena sighed. The
fact was, her ex-fiancé had a point. All her jobs had been obtained through her
parents or him. After two months of being out of work, this was her only
option. Now she had to make her new haunted abbey into a successful bed-and-breakfast,
not simply to prove she could, but because she had every last penny on the
line.

As she perused the large entry with its double staircase
leading to the next floor, her jubilance returned. The abandoned building was
so much more than she’d expected for the price. She looked up at the semicircle
windows near the ceiling, which let in sunlight, but she didn’t see any
spirits. “I hope the real estate agent hadn’t exaggerated about the ghosts. If
this place hasn’t sold because it’s haunted, then I better see some dead people
pretty darn fast.”

“Uh, Rena?”

She glanced behind her to see Valerie had stepped into the
next room. Turning, she strode through the doorway to find a grand dining room,
with green-and-gold paisley wallpaper. She stopped and smiled. “Oh, this is too
good to be true.” Valerie had pulled aside one of the curtains from the
fifteen-foot windows to let in the sun, and it reflected off an elegantly set
table.

“Over here.”

Her friend stood at the head of the table, a deep frown on her
face. “What is it? Did you find something?” She started down the length of the
long table set to feed twenty-four. Her stomach twitched with excitement at the
sight. She stopped to look at the place setting Valerie stared at. “What am I
looking for?”

Valerie shook her head. “Do you see anything unusual here?”

She peered at the setting. The silverware had an elaborate P
etched into it, but other than the fact it had multiple plates as if set for a
formal occasion, she saw nothing out of the ordinary. “No. Should I?”

Valerie sighed and crossed her arms over her small bosom.
“How long has this place been empty?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Over a hundred years or so?
From what I hear, colored lights can be seen shining from the windows at night,
but there’s no electricity. I guess the Abbey got lucky with ghosts and I’m
going to make that work for us.”

“And is there a caretaker of some sort?”

“There is one family here who has taken care of the grounds
for eons. I can’t remember their names, but it’s an old widower and his son.
Why?”

Valerie dragged her finger across the plate. “Do they take
care of the inside as well?”

“No, we are the only ones to enter inside these walls in a
hundred and fifty years. Isn’t that amazing? Why, what are you getting at?”

Valerie lifted her finger in front of Rena’s eyes. “Then why
is there no dust?”

Her brain came to a halt as she grasped Valerie’s point.
Taking another look around the room, she saw no cobwebs, no dust, not even a
chair out of place. She returned her gaze to Valerie. “Clean ghosts?”

Valerie raised her brow. “Did you read about that in your
research?”

Rena picked up the plate and examined it, not comfortable
meeting her friend’s eyes. “No, but I didn’t exactly do research. I watched a
few shows on television and discovered people will pay to go to a haunted
hotel. There has to be an explanation. Maybe someone has been living here and
no one realized it.”

Valerie crossed the room to the windows. “You mean behind
the padlocked gate?”

She joined her friend, puzzled, ready to believe in ghosts
who cleaned. “What are you looking at?”

“These curtains. If they’re a hundred years old, shouldn’t
they be dry-rotted and in shreds?”

A shiver ran across Rena’s skin. “Oh, damn. This is stranger
than a simple haunting.” She ran her hand along the forest-green velvet of the
curtain. The material, strong and thick, had a beige cotton backing. This
didn’t make any sense. She turned to examine the rest of the room. The chairs
around the massive table also had velvet in their backs. She stepped closer to
one and ran her hand over the material. The softness was irresistible…and new.

She paused. “It’s as if time has no meaning inside these
walls. I wonder if the place is bewitched as well as haunted!”

Valerie gave her one of her deprecating smiles. “And why is
it haunted?”

She grinned. She couldn’t help it. The more she saw of the
Abbey, the more convinced she was that she could make it profitable. “It had
something to do with the Red Death that swept through this town around 1861. I
read that it could take a life within thirty minutes of exposure.”

“Hmmm, that would explain a haunted town.” Valerie ran her
hand along the fireplace mantle. “But why is the Abbey the only place haunted?
There has to be more to it than that. Maybe a monk bargained for a life and
they all ended up dead?”

Even more sure now than the night she’d watched the
documentary on haunted hotels, Rena headed for the door at the end of the room,
the clacking of her heels echoing across the room. “I don’t know, but I plan to
find out. I will need a history of this place to put up on the website.”

Valerie followed. “That will work. It’s a good thing you’re
rid of Bryce. He’d find a reasonable, logical explanation for this and take all
the fun out of it.”

Rena stopped in her tracks, causing Valerie to bump into
her. “Ugh. Thanks for ruining my mood again, Val.”

“Hey, it’s true. You are so lucky to be rid of him. Are you
ready yet to tell me why he broke off the engagement? There’s no one to
overhear but the ghosts.”

She faced her friend, aware that her heartache shone in her
eyes, but it was too raw, too humiliating still. “I can’t. Not yet. Okay?”

Valerie gave her a quick hug. “Of course. But remember, I’m
your best friend and you will have to tell me eventually.”

She nodded, but her excitement for the Abbey had left. “Why
don’t we bring our luggage in and find bedrooms? If we have to buy blow-up
mattresses, I’d rather know now instead of tonight when the place is pitch
black and all we have are our lanterns.”

“You got it. And maybe we’ll run into a ghost in the
process.”

Valerie’s smile was contagious and Rena grinned, her upbeat
spirit making a quick return. “We better, or this haunted bed-and-breakfast
idea will be a complete bust.”

Synn ducked around the doorway as the ladies turned toward
the entry once again. He let the slender blonde pass through, but he couldn’t
resist touching the other one. Lightly, so as not to frighten her, he brushed
his fingers across her bare shoulder.

“What?” She turned, looking about.

The scent of dusky, tart pomegranate wafted by his nose. His
body responded with an overwhelming need to touch her again. He craved her
smoothness like a pickpocket coveted a half-dollar. When had he last craved
anything? He tamped down his own interest. It was of little importance. This
woman would be their freedom.

“Rena, are you coming?”

With her smile wide and full of joy, she followed after her
friend. “You are not going to believe this, but a ghost just touched me.”

That she hadn’t run in fear confirmed his belief she could
be the answer. Rena. He liked her name.

Her hips swayed with her quick pace, her energy palpable.
Would she have that kind of liveliness in bed?

As she crossed the threshold to the outside, his gut
tightened in panic. She couldn’t leave. Not now!

Synn ran to the open door and stopped, the memory of his
last venture outside freezing his limbs in place. He couldn’t leave the Abbey
or he’d cease to exist. He needed to calm himself. Too much was at stake.

The women pulled belongings from their conveyance. They
should have allowed the servants to do that kind of work. When they turned to
enter again, he blended back into the wall, his stomach relaxing at their
entrance.