Masque (12 page)

She tried to wrap her mind around the idea that he was not a
ghost, but could vanish like one. “Then what are you?”

“Frankly, I don’t know.”

What? He didn’t know what he was? Damn him. Or was Synn
already damned? At that, her heart cringed. She needed to know. Grasping at a
confidence she did not feel, she walked around her desk and sat in her chair.
“Then maybe it’s time we figured it out.”

He hesitantly came forward and sat in the wingback chair
she’d vacated, acting as if she were a puffin he might frighten away if he
moved too quickly. An apt observation on his part.

She sat straighter and leveled her gaze at him. “Tell me
what happened. I want to know how these people died and why you feel
responsible.”

Synn’s jaw tensed and his faced turned impassive. “Very
well, if that is what you need to hear.”

Something in his tone had her wondering if she should back
down, but she needed to know. She gritted her teeth to keep from stopping his
explanation.

“I told you it was the Red Death that killed everyone, every
last man and woman.” He stood again, his frame stiff, but as he began to pace
the width of the library his stride turned fluid. “Prince Prospero had invited
many of his friends to live here in the Abbey with him. Then he closed off all
the exits to keep anyone from entering or leaving in order to keep out the Red
Death. Many from the wealthier classes accepted the invitation as fear of the
disease was high, and it killed much faster than the Black Plague that had
decimated England.”

Synn stopped and speared her with his gaze. “But some of us
declined to join him.”

Rena gasped. If he was invited by the prince, he had to be
over a hundred and seventy years old!

He started to pace again. “The prince was a leader here in
Nova Scotia, an assemblyman, and I felt he should be doing all he could to help
these people, but he laughed and said he was, by saving as many as he could.
But I knew him well, his motives weren’t that pure. While he played and
cavorted behind these walls, throwing his midnight Masques on a monthly basis,
the people he represented were dying. I couldn’t be a part of that.”

Synn grasped the back of the chair and stared at her. His
eyes reflected such pain that she almost looked away. “I knew how to get into
the Abbey because I designed it.”

Oh God. The initials he had shown her on the roof. They were
his.

He gave her a self-deprecating smirk. “I entered one night
with a plan to convince the prince to help. I had a mask made to resemble the
pitted face of a Red Death victim. I strapped it on tight so he wouldn’t know
it was me. I entered his midnight Masque, hoping that after I scared him, I
could talk some sense into him, but I never had the chance.”

Synn finally broke eye contact, and it was all she could do
not to run to him. The pain in his eyes reflected in his voice, and she grasped
the arms of her chair to keep herself there.

“The moment I appeared, he ordered me killed, but as I
walked away from him through the colored rooms, his ‘friends’ parted and left
me a path, none willing to stop me.” Synn stared out the window behind her, his
body still. “The prince ran after me himself and in the Black Room, he accosted
me. The second he laid his hands upon the mask, he dropped dead at my feet. I
must have been a carrier of the disease.”

Synn returned his gaze to her, she read utter defeat in his
eyes and her own teared.

“When the prince’s friends witnessed his death, they tried
to take me, but one by one they too succumbed, once they laid hands on me. The
disease flew through the Abbey, and even people I never saw that night died.”

Rena found her voice, though it sounded scratchy even to her
own ears. “Did you die too?”

He looked startled, then he rubbed his chest. “No. I was one
of the few in town who was immune, but for weeks afterward, I wished I could
die. I didn’t dare leave the Abbey for fear of infecting others, and I had
seventy-three corpses to bury.”

He threw himself into the chair and rubbed the back of his
neck. “I buried every person. When I was done, I exchanged my poor wooden
crosses for proper headstones by taking down the walled garden next to the
chapel, stone by stone.”

That’s why the headstones she’d visited in the graveyard
were different. It was impossible to conceive of one man doing so much. It
reinforced what an honorable person he had been…was. “That must have taken
weeks.”

“Months, but what else did I have to do? I owed them a
decent burial.”

She leaned forward, her heart breaking for him. “You did all
you could for them, so why are you here with them?”

Synn shrugged. “My guess is I must pay for my sin.”

She shook her head. “I mean, did you die eventually?”

His gaze flew to hers. “No. Months later, once the Red Death
passed, the new town constable opened the Abbey to tell those inside the good
news. All he found was me and seventy-three graves, so he shot me.”

She leaned forward on the desk. “He shot you? Did he
question you? Let you explain? Anything?” Her insides tensed at the injustice
even though the event occurred long before her great-grandparents were born.

“No.”

She sat back, stunned. “But you didn’t die?”

Synn’s eyes glazed. “I don’t remember the pain, but I do
remember waking in a box coffin in the entryway of the Abbey. The lid lay on
the floor next to me. Fearing they would bury me alive, I jumped out and laid
the lid on top. Then I hid. The carpenter returned and simply nailed it shut
and they took the box away.” His gaze returned to her, his face devoid of any
emotion. “I have been here ever since.”

She shivered, shaken by his admission. It was impossible and
yet here he sat, broken by his own guilt, a man, not a ghost. She ignored the
tear that tracked down her cheek and stood. She wanted to relieve his anguish
with all her heart and yet she wasn’t sure what he was. He couldn’t be human
and be alive, but he wasn’t dead either. She walked to him, and kneeling at his
feet, she touched his rough cheek, warm, not cool, beneath her palm.

He stared at her, his face changing to reveal his need for
absolution, for conclusion. He needed
her
.

The realization swept through her like a powerful wind and
she swayed. Unable to resist, she kissed his cheek. When she pulled away, his
eyes were closed.

“Synn. This isn’t your fault. I think perhaps the reason you
are here is because you won’t let go of your guilt.”

His eyes snapped open. “What? No. I’m here to help them
cross over. I have to find a way to help these spirits continue their journey.
Only then will I have done all I can do for them.”

The determination in his eyes was too strong to deny. He
would never let his guilt go until the ghosts had gone. And then would he go
too? “Are you cursed?”

Synn chuckled with conviction and hopelessness.
“Definitely.”

Her sympathy for his plight returned full force and her need
to comfort overrode everything else. Pulling his head toward her, she kissed
him gently.

He had other ideas, and she soon found herself pulled onto
his lap, her mouth ravished and her breast cupped in his hand, his hard cock
pressing into her ass. When he let her up for air, she ached to remove her
clothes and began to unbutton her shirt, but Synn’s hand on hers stopped her.

“What’s wrong?”

He raised his brow. “It is daylight, and if I’m not
mistaken, there are those in the Abbey right now who don’t qualify as ghosts.”

She flushed at his reminder. There were no doors on the
library, or any of the colored rooms for that matter. Though Jamie and Valerie
may be occupied with renovations, she didn’t want to chance it. “You’re right.”

He lifted her off his lap and stood. “Besides, we’ve already
enjoyed this room. The next experience will be in the White Room. We must wait
until the ghosts return before we continue.”

A cold reality hit Rena full in the gut. She’d been about to
give into sexual urges with a cursed man, once again ignoring her logical
brain. Just because he wasn’t a ghost didn’t mean she should fall back into bed
with him, not that it appeared to be what he wanted anyway, at least not now.
Her women’s intuition finally raised its intelligent head and a suspicion rose
strong inside her. “Synn, why must we wait until the ghosts return? I have a
perfectly comfortable bed upstairs with plenty of privacy.”

Synn’s grin faded and his aristocrat-blank look returned.
She didn’t like that face of his at all.

He remained motionless, silent.

Despite the impassivity of his appearance, it was clear his
brain worked double time, deciding what he could tell her. It wouldn’t be what
she wanted to hear. She waited, her assertion that she had been used growing
stronger by the second.

He lowered his head as well as his voice. “I was under the
impression that you wanted to experience the Masque. The Masque cannot continue
until everyone has returned and become solid again.”

She scrutinized him. He didn’t give a clue to what he hid,
but his avoidance of her suggestion told her all she needed to hear. He
obviously saw her as no more than a lover, exactly what she had planned for
him. It served her right for letting her heart become involved. He wanted to
have a little fun in the Pleasure Rooms and she was the only one available. How
flattering.

She tried to match his tone. “That’s true, I was curious about
this Masque, but I’m very busy now and having new sexual experiences is not on
my to-do list at the moment. Let’s see where I’m at in a couple weeks. The
renovations for the Abbey are too important. I hope you can continue to help
Valerie and Jamie. They have been drilling in the dark lately, so to speak,
without your assistance.”

If she hadn’t been watching his face intently, she would
have missed it, but his nostrils flared a bit and the shards of blue in his
eyes brightened, but otherwise he remained impassive.

“Of course I will help them. I only stayed away so long to
prove what I was to you. As I have done that, I’m now at your service.”

She expected a slight grin at his last words, but he kept
his aristocratic façade. Good. That’s what she wanted, distance. “Thank you.”

He bowed slightly and strode out of the room. Her eyes
couldn’t resist watching his ass as he left. Shit, the man wore tight pants.

Even as he disappeared around the corner, her stomach
tightened and a niggling doubt started in the back of her head that she may
have just made one blond, naked ghost with a skinny penis very happy. What was
really going on in her Abbey?

Synn paced the wall-walk, ignoring the light drizzle that
made the stonework slippery. “Ballocks! God damn, bloody, cockchafer!” He
slammed his fist down hard on the crenellation. The pain shot through his arm
up into his shoulder. “Fuck.” He held his arm against his side until the
stinging subsided to a tolerable level.

Now what? He had lost his connection with Rena. How the hell
was he to get it back? He’d been too confident, too sure of his ability to
please her, too attracted to her. Now she had pushed him away, and he only had
a week to change her mind. Actually, he could take months if he had to, but his
friends were anxious to move on. They had hoped the last full moon would have
been the final one. Now, they had to endure yet another cycle. He was only
three rooms away from finishing it…for good.

He stopped and stared at the gray moist town like he had a
hundred times before, rubbing the back of his neck as he berated himself.
Even
if I have to beg her, I will be sure that our hostess finishes the last rooms.
His own words to Father Richard echoed in his head. He hoped it didn’t come to
that, but he would beg her if he had to. Surely someone as caring as she
wouldn’t deny a desperate man. That she wasn’t afraid of exploring the sexual
activities of the Masque so far made his task at least possible. In fact, she
enjoyed the colored rooms as much as he, though he didn’t remember having quite
this much pleasure in the past. Maybe his long abstinence and her being a
novice added to his own experience.

And maybe, her own sexual need could convince her to
continue the Masque. It had worked once before. He had brought her to the brink
of ecstasy two nights in row and she had succumbed to the Exhibitionist Room,
but his gut told him it may take more than that. His betrayal, as she viewed
it, made her wary.

She had every right to be wary. He had already betrayed her
by taking her to the Masque. What would she do when the Abbey was no longer
haunted? A new guilt began to form inside his gut. Maybe he could promise her—

“Valerie told me I’d find you up here.”

Synn spun at the male voice of the stone mason. “Jamie.”

“Not the best day to be taking in the view.”

Synn smirked. “Maybe, maybe not. There is a certain
attractiveness in the slower pace of Ashton on a day like today.”

“Aye, true enough. Having lived here all my life, I can
appreciate what you mean.” Jamie studied Synn. “Have we met before I came to
the Abbey? You look familiar somehow.”

Synn meandered over to where the man stood next to the roof
entrance. Now that he mentioned it, there was something, but that was
impossible since Synn hadn’t left the Abbey in over hundred years. “You do look
familiar.”

Jamie shook his head. “Ach, we’ll probably think of it
eventually.”

Synn nodded, still puzzling. “Did you need me for something
that you interrupted my lovely view?” He smirked.

“I did and despite envying you your leisure, my contractor
allows me no rest.” Jamie nodded his head toward the door.

Synn grinned. “In more ways than one, right?”

The man’s stocky frame puffed larger, if that were possible.
“Aye, she is a ball-breaker.” His wink reminded Synn of the times he’d shared
with friends long ago, and an old ache returned to his heart. He thrust it
away. It was not his plight that mattered. He put a hand on Jamie’s shoulder.
“So what can I do for you?”

The man turned toward the stair. “I need to drill the holes
to the upstairs servants’ quarters.”

Jamie talked as they headed down the stairs, Synn half
listening. Even Jamie’s stride once they hit the hallway reminded him of
someone. It wasn’t until they had passed the window at the end of the second
floor that it hit. Jamie walked like him.

Synn froze inside as the pieces fell into place. Jamie was
one of his descendants, probably from his younger brother. The realization that
his family had continued, that a part of himself still existed, unlocked the
gate to his own needs. He tried to close it off, but having ignored his own
wants for so long, they refused to be secured.

Not willing to think about such painful feelings, Synn
focused on Jamie’s concerns instead. A talent he had developed a knack for over
the years.

Jamie stopped in the entryway. “So which area do you think
would make the best main conduit?”

Synn had very little knowledge of what this electricity was
about, except that it somehow produced light, but he did know the Abbey he had
designed. “Let’s take a look at your options and refresh my memory.”

“Brilliant. Let’s start in the Black Room corridor.”

Synn grinned. How appropriate for the MacAllistair boys to
start there.

* * * * *

Synn floated through Rena’s door and materialized. He was
taking a risk being visible, but he needed to be solid, to feel every nuance of
her reactions to his touch. It had taken him time to develop a plan of
seduction, and it had to be implemented perfectly.

He made himself comfortable in one of the chairs at the
fireplace that gave him an unimpeded view of Rena. Gazing at her while she
slept calmed him. She was a kind person. Maybe he should tell her about the
Masque and what would happen. Give her a chance to make the decision. She may
well continue and then she wouldn’t hate him when he ruined her haunted hopes.
He wanted to, she deserved that opportunity. He shook his head in defeat. He
couldn’t risk it. The lead ball of guilt he had carried around for a century
wouldn’t budge.

He refocused his attention on Rena, a much more enjoyable
subject. Her hair was trapped beneath her shoulder as she lay on her side
facing him. The t-shirt she wore, hiding her breasts from his gaze, did not
bother him. He would start his advances at her feet tonight. His tongue
reminded him of the taste of her pussy and he closed his eyes. He began to
harden and he slowly took a deep breath before opening his eyes to gaze at her
again.

He had to make her want him. She had to need release to give
him another chance, and he would have to be sure she didn’t turn to Matt. The
thought brought his heart to a stop, but he shook it off. After the Masque, she
could do whatever with whomever she wanted. His gut tightened. He didn’t want
that. He wanted her.

The needs he’d pushed aside earlier burst through his subconscious
to crowd his mind. He’d had a family, an older sister and younger brother, a
mother, all alive when he entered the Abbey. All dearer to him than gold. What
had happened to them?

His business had been thriving, his finances had been
secure. His home, designed by his own hand, had fit his every need. He had
expected to settle into a comfortable relationship with a woman someday after
he’d exhausted his sexual adventures.

He refocused his attention on Rena. An ache grew in his
chest for what could have been. It was the reason he’d shut down those memories
a century ago. They would drive him insane…if he wasn’t already.

He had to concentrate on the Masque and Rena completing it
with him. Whatever he had to do, he would, even if it meant unloading one guilt
only to take on another. If Rena had been less responsive to his advances, he
would have had reservations, but she loved sex as much as he. Though his next
step was pure manipulation, he would ensure she enjoyed every moment. He had no
choice. His heart tightened at what she would think of him once they had
finished their sexual journey.

Uncomfortable with his thoughts, he stood and smelled the
air. Tart pomegranate filled his nostrils, sending lustful messages to his
tense body, smothering his emotions. Rena’s arm, lying on top of the quilt,
beckoned his touch, but tonight he would focus only on the lower half of her
body. Gently, he knelt on the bed and pulled the blanket from beneath her arm
and off her body. At the sight of her bare, curvaceous hips, his cock hardened.
It had been too long without her.

* * * * *

Rena sat at the dining room table, her head in her hands, a
bottle of ibuprofen waiting for Mrs. McMurray to bring in the coffee to go with
it. It was so nice to have the older woman with them again, and her motherly
voice was finally back as well.

“Here you go, dear. Can I make you a warm croissant with
some fresh blackberry jam?”

Her stomach growled at the prospect and she grinned. “Yes,
please.”

When the woman left to do her magic in the kitchen
fireplace, Rena took a sip of coffee and closed her eyes. Maybe she should only
have the bed-and-breakfast open one week a month. She sincerely didn’t think
she could find another such amazing cook.

She opened her eyes to find Synn staring down at her. She
jumped. “Damn it, Synn, I’m going to put a bell on you.”

He didn’t react but stared hard at her.

Okay, now what? “Did you need something?”

The blue shards in his eyes seemed to glitter as his mouth
turned up into a grin. Oh shit, she much preferred the silent treatment she’d
been getting. The appreciation she read in his gaze made her flush.

He sat in the chair at the head of the table, so close she
could touch him. Uh-oh.

His low voice caressed her libido. “I need you.”

Damn, and double damn. A full-out frontal assault wasn’t
what she had expected. Though she had expected something now that the Masque
had resumed over the last two nights. After waking up from another sexual,
unfulfilling dream, she had heard the low hum of the ghosts as their voices came
back and had buried her head under her pillow. Her lack of sleep had made
ibuprofen her new morning vitamin. Swallowing hard, she tried for a cool tone.
“I’m really busy, Synn, and I haven’t been getting much sleep at night.”

He laid his hand on her knee. It burned right through her
jeans as his thumb slowly stroked the side. She looked up from his hand to see
concern and maybe just a bit of glee in his eyes. “This wouldn’t take much
effort. I just want to take you through the White Room.”

Rena’s heart accelerated at the idea of another new
experience. But was she once again being led by her sexual desires? It had been
a long week of frustrating dreams. Could she even think straight? “Synn, I
don’t think that would be a good idea.”

His hand moved up her leg, leaving his thumb resting at the
apex of her thighs. She should move, break the connection, but she couldn’t.

He leaned toward her, his cinnamon scent filling the air
around her, priming her body. His other hand came up to caress her cheek. “But
this would be all about you, not me. I even promise not to enter your
beautiful, sexy body. I think if you try this room, you will sleep better.”

She tried hard to resist his voice, his scent, his touch,
but she wanted him badly. If he had kissed her or talked about sex, she could
have resisted, but his gentle caress, kind promise, worked upon her heart
instead of her pussy. She tried to shake her head, but it wouldn’t move. “I—”

“Please, Rena. Let me do this for you.”

Oh shit. “Okay.”

His gaze turned grateful as if she’d granted him his most
fervent wish before he brushed a kiss across her lips. Her heart pounded at his
gentleness, leaving her breathless.

He stroked her cheek once more before sitting back in his
chair.

She watched for any sign of smugness on his part, but there
was none. He really wanted to do this for her. Maybe it would take the edge off
her overactive libido and she could get some sleep. “What is the White Room for
during the day? I haven’t been able to figure it out. It looks like a café.”

Standing, he offered her his arm. “You are correct. That
room was the tearoom. Afternoon tea and delicious delicacies were served in
there for both men and women.”

Taking his arm, she let him lead her through the rooms. The
clear window in the White Room allowed plenty of sunlight, which reflected off
the pure-white walls. Now that she understood its purpose, she could easily
imagine women and men sitting at tables while behind the long wooden counter at
the end, workers provided selected treats, which would have been displayed on
the shelves behind them. This room, as opposed to any of the others, appeared
dainty. Much white lace graced the tables and walls, while white napkins with
pale-green-and-lavender embroidery were set on the tables among the silver, waiting
for guests.

“And what depraved sexual activity does this stylish room
host after midnight?”

Synn stepped in front of her and lifted her chin. “There are
no depraved activities in this abbey, and it’s time you stopped thinking in
that vein. What we have here are healthy, intriguing sexual experiences for
those who wish to try them. No one is forced to do anything.” His serious mien
broke when he smirked. “No virgin sacrifices either.”

She grinned. “Good, because I wouldn’t qualify.”

He wrapped her in his arms and a tenderness appeared in his
gaze that sent her heart skidding past a couple beats. “Rena, I want you to
enjoy this room tonight. Nothing but your fulfillment is my goal.”

She laid her hand upon his cheek, her gut tightening at his
willingness to do anything for her. It was clear now that the knot in her
stomach had nothing to do with her nymphomania tendencies and everything to do
with her growing attraction to his soul.

* * * * *

Rena tied the gold rope around the soft white toga Mrs.
McMurray had given her. It was made of a luminescent material reflecting
turquoise, pink and pale blue, depending on how it caught the light of her
lantern. The material was silky soft. The drape at her neck fell to her navel,
and with her large breasts, it revealed her entire cleavage. The toga was
short, its soft folds brushed the tops of her thighs.

She felt completely covered in it until she stepped in front
of the oblong Victorian mirror in her room. With the lantern in front of her,
she appeared almost naked. Her breasts showed through the material, the dark
areolas obvious and the nubs of her nipples straining at the material. Her gaze
swept downward to take in the dark circle of her pubic hair. “Now, why bother
wearing this when I could just go naked?”