Haunting Secrets (8 page)

From behind, the floor creaked, and suddenly, something long and hard pushed into his back. He sucked in a quick breath.

“Don’t move or I’ll shoot.”

Victoria’s voice shook, as did the long rod pressing into him.
Shoot him?
If only the bullet would pierce his heart and end his tortured life. Unfortunately, nothing could kill him.

Her bravery made his heart light. Not many women would act with such boldness. He admired her quick wit. So much like her father.

He held out his arms from his body. “I’m not going to move.”

“Why are you here?”

“I came to warn you, again.”

“As I surmised. Turn around and let me see your face.”

He stilled his breathing for a moment, yet his heartbeat knocked crazily against his ribs. “That’s an impossible request.”

“Who are you?”

He chuckled, his panic slightly easing. “Have you not heard of the East Wing ghost?”

“Sir, I do not believe in ghosts.” She jabbed the rod into his back a little harder. “Besides, if you were a ghost, I would not be able to accomplish this.”

Very intelligent woman. Another trait she must have inherited from her father.

Justin remained still for a few minutes. Her ragged breathing didn’t slow, but the point stuck in his back relaxed.

In a quick motion, he jerked around and grabbed the weapon from her hands. A squeak came from her throat as she backed against the wall. Her clasped hands clutched her nightgown near her neck. He couldn’t see her face, but he guessed her skin would probably be as pale as a ghost’s.

She gasped. “Please, don’t hurt me.”

He looked at the weapon in his hand and almost chuckled. “Miss Fawson, I’m not going to hurt you, especially with a broom stick. I’m only here to protect you.”

She shook her head. “I don’t even know you.”

“And I would like to keep things that way.”

“I—I don’t understand.”

“Just understand this. You are in danger. You
must
leave. I don’t know how else to make you believe the risk you undertake by staying here. Please, heed my word. Take your maid and leave first thing in the morning.”

He swung around and left her, clutching the broom handle in his hand. With each footstep closer to his domain, he prayed she would follow his counsel. He couldn’t live with himself if he so much as harmed a hair on her head.

He’d no idea how or why he became the beast. The witch had told him it was lust that changed him. Certainly, he’d not desired the serving girl, Sarah.

If only he could think of a way to break the curse. The witch came to him every so often and demanded he love her. That, he would not do.

Ever.

Although, recently, the witch had demanded something else. She now wanted him to turn over the treasure map. Apparently she thought Peter Fawson had given him a map that located the treasure on Slumbering Giant. Justin didn’t know where it was, but she thought differently.

After reaching his domain, he made certain the door closed behind him securely and hurried down the long, dark, cold hallway to his chambers. He stopped at the fireplace and threw in a couple of logs that would last through the night. Straightening, he stared into the growing fire.

Perhaps the key to his curse lay with Victoria. Would her father know about a treasure on the island? If so, would he have told his daughter?

Justin shook his head and moved away from the fire. It didn’t matter if Victoria knew or not. If the witch suspected, Victoria’s life would indeed be in peril.

Fear clenched in his gut. Although knowing the location of the map might break his curse, Victoria’s life was more important. One way or another he needed to get her out of here. Fast.

* * * *

Fear shook through Victoria’s body. That blasted man had won again. She couldn’t let him walk out of her room the second time without getting more answers.

She swallowed hard and wobbled to her bed to sit. After taking a couple reassuring deep breaths, she felt stronger. As her confidence returned, she knew it was time to confront him.

Retracing her route to the wall she’d found last night, she hurried on slippered feet. Where one hall met another, she peeked around the corner, making certain nobody lingered, especially the servants. She reached the familiar potted plant and pressed her hands against the wall until she located the seam.

Did she really want to enter his lair? This was the East Wing, the place she’d been warned about. The very area she was forbidden to enter, lest she and her maid be sent away. Ignoring her conscience, she pushed the wall as hard as she could. This time it opened.

Holding her breath, she peeked inside. A dim light shone through the long shadowed corridor. Although a cold draft swept over her legs, the promise of heat hung in the air.

Someone definitely occupied this area.
Ghosts?
Even if she believed in them, they were dead, so why did they need heat from a fireplace? No. It must be the irritating man who wouldn’t stay out of her room.

She pulled the wrapper tighter around her neck and stepped into the shadows with only minimum light to show her the way. As her feet touched cold stone, a shiver passed through her. Swallowing hard, she forced herself to continue. This prankster must be stopped. Tonight.

The further into the wing she walked, there were stairs leading up. Although the stairs held shadows, at the top was lighter. Taking a deep breath, she placed her foot on the step. Remarkably enough, the steps didn’t creak as she made her way up. The closer she came to the light, the warmer the air around her became and even the temperature on her feet didn’t chill her any longer. Light brightened at the top of the stairs, revealing a large room.

Against the far wall stood a fireplace. Flames licked the stones in a gentle welcome. Scattered candles lent more light to the dungeon she’d entered. As she glanced around the room, she changed her mind about its definition. Dungeon didn’t seem the appropriate word for this setting. This was someone’s sanctuary, a place kept hidden from the rest of the world.

The scent of spice wafted through the air, raising memories of her father. He’d used to splash his face with this scent, and when he sat next to her while she played the pianoforte, his smell surrounded her. The image lightened the fear somewhat.

The chord of an organ’s beautiful tone made her jump. She gasped and slapped her hand over her mouth.

In the far corner, a man with a deep purple evening jacket sat on the bench, his head tilted back, the ends of his black hair brushing the collar. Wide shoulders and his height captured her interest. Although he’d only visited her twice, she had his frame memorized.

Cotton dryness filled her mouth, making it difficult to swallow. She twisted her hands against her stomach. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath until it came out in a rush.

Behind the organ, the man stiffened. “Is someone there?” he asked without turning.

The deep timbre of his voice caused tremors to mix with the terror already running through her. Never would she forget that intense voice.

She cleared her throat. “You came to my room. I thought I should come to yours, as we never finished our conversation.”

Cursing, he reached for a black scarf at the corner of the organ. “Miss Fawson, you shouldn’t be here.” He fastened the silk over his head to partially cover his face.

“Why not?”

“Don’t play coy with me. I know you’ve heard of the East Wing ghost.”

“And I remember telling you I don’t believe in ghosts.”

“You should. Being here isn’t good for you.”

She folded her arms and rubbed the length of them to stop the chills. “So we’re back to discussing the danger I’m in again, are we?”

He turned on the bench and she gasped. Only the left side of his face was open to her view. An eye, part of his nose, and his mouth were uncovered.

“Miss Fawson, leave this very moment and never think of this place again.”

“This
place
? Meaning your chambers?”

“Yes.”

“And what about your earlier warning about leaving the manor all together?”

He stood, his hands fisted by his side. “You’re a most impetuous woman. I grow weary of your endless questions. Leave now or suffer the consequences.”

Her knees knocked together. Weakness from holding strong began to wear thin, and she feared she’d swoon soon. No. His presence made her curious, and she had to know why he resided here, hiding from everyone. Slowly, he made his way toward her.

“I’ll leave your chambers, but know this.” She took a deep breath, trying to calm her quaky nerves. “You cannot scare me away, so don’t sneak into my room and threaten me again. I don’t understand why you gave me such an outlandish warning, but I’m not frightened of you, or any other servant in this house.”

He stopped in front of her and titled his head to the side, the anger lines around his face softened. “You’re a stubborn child.”

“I’m not a child, sir.”

He folded his arms and tapped his finger on his chin. His gaze slid over her in a slow caress. Different tingles rushed through her body, those she didn’t quite understand. They warmed her, which was something no other man had yet accomplished.

“Obviously.” His voice was deep, caressing.

She licked her suddenly parched lips. “I—I came to tell you that you cannot frighten me. I’ll not leave the manor until the Maitlands ask me to.” She didn’t mean for her voice to crack, and quickly cleared her throat again. “So please cease these warnings. They fall on deaf ears.”

Straightening, she turned and headed for the stairs. Loud footsteps reverberated behind her. When strong fingers gripped her arm, she let out a sob.

The so-called ghost yanked her around to face him. He hovered over her, his face only a few inches away. She had to tilt her head back just to see into his one eye. Dark and mysterious, he projected masculinity. Although the scarf concealed half of his face, his straight nose and one eye held her prisoner. Even the curves of his lips fascinated her. 

“Miss Fawson, you must heed my word. You shouldn’t stay here. I don’t want to see you put in danger.”

“D—danger of wh—what?” Her teeth chattered annoyingly. A shiver ran through her, different than the ones she’d experienced thus far.

“Do you really want to stay and find out?” he ground out. “Why can’t you simply listen and believe what I say?”

“Because I don’t know you.”

A heavy sigh fell from his lips and he released her. He folded his arms, keeping his stare on her. “How will knowing me make a difference?”

“I only trust those I know.” She shook her head. “You, sir, are a stranger, a man who has played with my emotions by coming into my room trying to frighten me.”

From what she’d heard about the ghost, Roderick and Jonathan’s older brother had died in a house fire and remained in the East Wing. If there was supposed to have been a fire in this section of the house, it certainly didn’t appear that way now.

Was this man really Justin, the older brother? Did he cover half of his face to hide his hideous burns?

If this was indeed Justin, that would definitely explain why the clothes in his room downstairs were not dusty or had cobwebs hanging off them. Obviously, he still dressed every day. Yet why would he hide and pretend to be a ghost?

“I only want to help you, can’t you see?” he said.

“No.” She inched her hand to touch his arm, but withdrew before making contact. “I need more explanation. I need you to tell me why you think I’m in danger.”

He backed away, his eyes narrowing with each step he took toward the fireplace. “I cannot tell you anymore. Please leave.” His voice softened. “If you’re caught in this room, you will certainly be in grave danger. The Maitlands do not want people knowing of my existence.”

“Is that why you think I’m in peril? Are you Justin Maitland, the oldest brother who died in the fire?”

He shook his head and closed his eyes. “Please leave and don’t come back again.” He turned and without a word strode into another room, slamming the door behind him.

She stared at the closed door. None of what he said made sense. Why wouldn’t he explain? He skirted around her questions as if he hid something.

All of this was so very curious. He hadn’t answered her question about his identity, but in her heart she knew this was Justin. He resembled Jonathan and Roderick quite a bit. She’d never met Justin, however, her father had told her so much about him she felt like she knew Justin well. Yet this man was nowhere near the loving, kind, and gentle person her father had admired. Something had definitely happened in Justin’s life to make him so sinister.

Suddenly, she wanted to find out. She wanted to know every detail of his life and find the man her father had talked so much about. Unfortunately, tonight was not that time. Soon. She wouldn’t leave this place until she talked to Justin about her father and discovered the secrets.

On steadier legs she retraced her path back down the stairs, through the cold tunnel to the concealed opening in the wall. Once she stepped onto the hardwood floor, the door clicked shut behind her on its own volition. She jumped and placed her hand on her chest.

How did that happen? He hadn’t followed her out.

Or had he?

Chapter Five

The sky darkened with gray clouds. Fitting for a funeral. The breeze turned cold, and Victoria tightened her fur-lined cloak around her throat to ward off the chill.

The staff of Maitland Hall wore black for Sarah’s burial. At Victoria’s insistence, the Maitlands agreed to attend. Bethany chose to adorn herself in a shimmering silver gown, the only sign of mourning a black veil covering her eyes. Victoria sighed, studying the other woman with an arched brow. Why would Bethany flaunt her wealth, especially on a day like today? Although, what had Victoria expected, considering she’d practically had to drag them here?

Roderick was distant and didn’t say anything unless it was to mutter a word to the servants. As Victoria stood by Jonathan near the grave, she once again felt out of place. So far nobody had asked her to pack her belongings and leave which suited her just fine, since she hadn’t finished what she came here to find.