by Sara Freeze
“No.” James stepped forward until they stood almost toe to toe. He lowered his head until his lips almost touched hers. “I mean this.” Ariadne squeaked as he swept her close, his body heat suffusing her with a warm glow. All her doubts dropped away as his breath rasped against mouth. Then the time for thinking disappeared altogether as he gently pressed his lips against hers.
Ariadne pressed herself closer to his well-muscled body, praying their embrace would never end. Her heart beat a frantic staccato tempo as she clutched at his broad shoulders with one hand and threaded the fingers of her other hand through his hair. A surge of energy pulsed through her entire body.
“What was that?” James pulled back, though his arms remained around Ariadne’s waist.
“What?” Ariadne breathed, still caught up in the magic of their kiss. She jumped as she heard a ruckus issuing from the kitchen, which she knew should be empty since everyone had gone up to bed.
“Stay here Ariadne.” James gently moved Ariadne aside.
Ariadne, however, refused to be set aside. “You need someone to watch your back.”
James eyed her determined expression and sighed. “Fine, but stay behind me, and be prepared to run if I say so.” Ariadne nodded her agreement and fell in line behind James.
“Oh, what the devil is this nonsense?” James swore an oath as they beheld the chaos in the kitchen then quickly apologized.
“No need to apologize, James. I believe the occasion quite calls for an oath or two.” They both stared at the bizarre tableau in front of them. The food on the table remained undisturbed, but each chair around the massive oak kitchen table was now missing a leg.
James’s hands curled into fists. He was so tired of the chaos, tired of cleaning up messes he had not caused. What right did he have to drag this innocent woman into the quagmire of his life? Yet, how could he let her go? A vein in his temple pulsed “Leave, Ariadne.”
When she remained quiet, he hefted up one of the altered chairs and marched it outside. He was dimly aware that she had followed him out, though she kept herself at a safe distance.
All the pent up frustration of the last two years roiled through him. He smashed the chair against the side of the house until just splinters remained. With a muffled oath, he hurled a chair leg into the bushes.
Ariadne was quiet in the aftermath of his outburst. Unexpectedly, she remarked, “It all seems so familiar, doesn’t it?”
“That I would act like a complete ass and chase away the one woman I’ve come to see as my ideal wife?” James lowered his head, a deep shame surging through him. He sat down on one of the kitchen steps and rubbed a weary hand across his forehead. Perhaps he was as wretched a character as his father.
“No, James, I was referring to the disappearance of the chair legs. Incidentally, I like the idea of being your ideal wife; I just hope I can live up to your expectations.”
They smiled at each other. Then, James remembered her earlier question. “What do you mean by it seeming familiar?”
“I wish I could be more specific. It just feels like I have encountered this or at least read about this somewhere.”
“You have witnessed another spirit in England pulling such shenanigans? You are full of surprises, my lady. Also, I do not believe England is large enough to host two such creatures.”
“Not a spirit.” Ariadne pulled at her lower lip. James rose to his feet, intrigued by the movement of her lip. His body stirred to life as he remembered her eager response to his embrace. If only he had the license and the reading of the banns secured, James mused. He would whisk her off to bed with absolutely no regrets, and they could forget the madness surrounding them for at least a few hours.
“Let us worry about it tomorrow, Ariadne. The animals and the chair legs will be fine overnight.”
James watched with longing as Ariadne sighed and stretched her arms above her head. He longed to pull her into his arms, or, better yet, to sweep her up and carry her to his waiting bed. He forced himself to remember he was a gentleman and that she was no doubt tired after all her labors on his behalf.
As they paused at the top of the stairs, Ariadne gave him a gentle smile and said, “Please do not worry, James. I am hopeful that the spirit has worn itself out, and that we can go ahead with completing our preparations for the ball.”
Bright and early the next morning, though, a piercing shriek once again shattered the still air of Holt House.
James dragged a hand through his hair as he staggered to the door. It was a good thing his future bride was so unflappable, he thought. He simply couldn’t imagine any of Lady Partington’s daughters maintaining such a stoic air when faced with such absurd circumstances on a daily basis.
“No rest for the weary,” he murmured to Ariadne as they arrived at the hallway leading to the kitchen at the same time.
“Who needs rest when such hilarity abounds?” Ariadne said with a whimsical smile.
Lady Holt and Mrs. Alton were already waiting at the servants’ entrance. Lady Holt wrung her bejeweled hands as she said, “I am at a loss, my dears, I truly am. Our resident spirit has now seen fit to scrawl the servants’ names across the ceiling.”
“The spirit wrote out the servants’ names on the ceiling? What the devil for?”
Ariadne pursed her lips. “He is indeed acting in the most puzzling way. From the stories I’ve heard, and from what I witnessed when I first arrived, he seemed to be acting in a manner that paralleled that of other hauntings, well, at least the ones I have read in novels. Moving the furniture, spooking the animals, defacing the house. His latest acts, however, seem to depart from the expected traits of a haunting.”
James stared at her. “Are you truly trying to reason out the behavior of what is plainly an ill-tempered, and might I mention, daft spirit?”
“There’s something here that we’re not seeing.”
“That would be the spirit,” James said, his lip quirking up on one side.
Ariadne jabbed at his arm with her pointer finger. “Pay attention, James.” A cold wind drifted through the hall. From the corner of the room, a loud sneeze rang out. A few seconds later, a scratchy cough followed.
“What the devil?” James moved closer to Ariadne and put a protective arm around her shoulders. “Do spirits become ill?” He felt a surge of possessiveness streak through him when she edged closer to him. He gestured for their mothers to move closer as well.
“If ever a spirit did fall ill, it would have to be yours,” Ariadne murmured in reply.
They all waited a few more minutes. Just as they thought the spirit had taken its mischief elsewhere, they heard another series of hacking coughs echoed in the drafty hallway.
“I just cannot imagine what kind of illness a spirit could have,” Mrs. Alton said with a bemused expression. “If you do not have a body, then how do you acquire a sickness?”
“It sounds almost like when James was little and he would pretend to be ill so I would stay longer in his nursery.”
“Perhaps the spirit is faking an illness to make us feel sympathy?” Ariadne shrugged.
“I would feel better if the two of you would hie yourselves off to do some shopping or whatever it is ladies do under these circumstances.” James adopted a gruff tone as he addressed Mrs. Alton and Lady Holt, but he knew his concern seeped into his tone. “I doubt that the spirit could make you ill, but let us not take any chances.” He directed a wry look at Ariadne. “I would ask you to leave as well, but I can already hear your sound refusal echoing in my ears.”
“I will most certainly refuse,” Ariadne said in an indignant tone. “I will remain here and inspect the room to see if anything else is amiss.”
“Just don’t do anything impetuous,” James said in his sternest voice. He escorted the two ladies to the front entryway and instructed Woods to summon a carriage. Once he was assured that both women were safely ensconced in the Holt carriage, he returned to Ariadne’s side.
“Tell me nothing happe
ned in my absence.”
Ariadne tilted her head to one side and gave him a sweet smile. “You were away for just mere minutes. Not even the illustrious Holt spirit could create chaos in that time.”
“I suppose not. Still it would be nice to be free of the blasted thing.” James closed his eyes and pinched the end of his nose, struggling mightily to preserve his calm. The spirit was daft, no doubt about it.
“It will be all right, James,” she whispered. “I’m here.” She traced one of his eyebrows with her fingers.
The possessive urge from the night before returned full force and raced through his body. James captured her small hand in his and brought it to his lips. “Had we but world enough and time,” he said.
Ariadne laughed outright. “How wonderful. I haven’t heard anyone recite Andrew Marvell in years. Am I really being coy?”
“No, you are not. I am just trying to divert our attention for a minute. This wretched situation is the very devil.”
“The ball is tomorrow. If we can just make it through the evening, I am sure all will be well.”
Ariadne bestowed one last lingering look at James then left to check on the ball’s preparations. James watched her leave, wondering if his luck would indeed hold out until he secured Ariadne as his bride. He wondered for a fleeting moment what she had intended to tell him earlier then dismissed the thought. With so much at stake, it was useless to worry over trivial details. Whatever it was, he would deal with it after the ball.
****
The morning of the ball, everything from the weather to the resident spirit seemed inclined to behave. The hall lay in utter silence, while sunbeams danced over the rolling moors.
The conversation at the breakfast table was jovial and festive. Lady Holt and Mrs. Alton chattered about the ball’s arrangements as James and Ariadne exchanged lingering looks.
“Oh, Archibald, you should not take more sugar with your tea,” Lady Holt scolded her brother. “Half a teaspoon should suffice.”
Sir Banbury obediently took a small amount of sugar from the porcelain dish, and as soon as Lady Holt turned her head to address James, he sneaked in a heaping spoonful. Seeing Ariadne had detected his disobedience, he winked at her in the manner of a conspirator. Uncaring of who saw her, Ariadne slyly winked back.
Later, Ariadne, Lady Holt, and Mrs. Alton visited the ballroom to add the final touches. Ariadne beamed in delight as she took in the product of days of hard work. The ballroom floors gleamed; the chalk outlines on the floors depicted elegant dancers whirling around the silver and blue room. Such as difference from the indecent spirit’s chalk figures, Ariadne thought wryly. A small smile twitched at her lips as she tried to imagine how the gentry would react to the sordid scenes that previously adorned the floors.
“I wonder the same thing,” James whispered out of the corner of his mouth.
“Do you read minds now, my lord?”
“I can read yours. You were wondering what our neighbors would say had they walked into and seen the spirit’s artwork.”
Ariadne shook her head in mock disapproval. “You are adopting terrible mannerisms from our resident spirit. Mind reading now, who knows what will be next?”
“I leave that to your capable imagination, ma’am,” James said, moving to a more acceptable distance as his mother approached.
“Well, it may not be as fancy as the balls the London ton are accustomed to, but I vow I have never seen a prettier ballroom.” Lady Holt patted Ariadne’s hand. “You and your mother, along with my son and the staff, have worked miracles. I cannot imagine how you accomplished such a herculean task with such a small number of helpers at your disposal.”
Ariadne beamed at her soon-to-be mother-in-law. “It was our great pleasure to help, and the staff were impressive in their attention to detail. I believe this will truly be a wondrous night.”
As Ariadne strolled to her bedchamber to begin preparations for the ball, her mind mulled over the spirit’s recent antics. A lingering memory niggled at her brain. Admittedly, her expertise was in dressing hair and selecting fashions for ladies, not in understanding wayward spirits. Yet, she suspected the spirit’s actions were not random. She stifled a sigh as she saw the housekeeper and two maids approach, their faces flushed as they showered a flurry of questions upon her.
The next few hours seemed to gallop away, and before Ariadne could fully fortify herself, it was time to dress for the ball. As always, she felt strange to be in the position of the one being dressed and fussed over, and she fought the urge to dismiss the rosy cheeked Yorkshire lass who had been assigned as her maid. She allowed her mind to drift to dreams of dancing in James’s arms while her maid hummed a little ditty and began dexterously pulling back her hair.
“Yer all set, Miss Alton.”
Ariadne gasped softly as she looked in the mirror. Always, her look had been spare and utilitarian. A transformed woman gazed back from the looking glass. All her features looked the same, but the maid’s able hands had softened the narrow angles of her face by gently pulling back her hair and allowing a few carefully crafted ringlets for frame her face. “You are truly gifted.”
Her maid met her eyes in the mirror and smiled. “Always easy to make a woman in love look beautiful. Weren’t any of my doing. Himself won’t take his eyes off you. “
Ariadne mulled over the maid’s words once she was alone in the airy bedchamber. With a faint shock, she realized the maid was right: somehow, James, her husband-to-be and the target of her deception, had stolen her practical and protected heart. For so long, she had shielded her heart, always focused on the next task, never believing she would ever have the luxury of loving someone. And yet here she was, with a man who respected her and even showed some affection for her.
More than ever now, she owed him the truth. Yet, how could she risk losing him? Whereas before, she had protected her secret so she could secure a life of stability for herself and for her mother, now her affections had become ensnared.
She peered in the mirror as she smoothed back a wisp of hair. Deep in her heart, she knew she couldn’t marry James if he didn’t know the full truth about her. After the ball, she would risk everything and tell him who she really was. She would just have to pray that he would forgive her for the deception. She looked in the mirror, took one last deep breath, and went down to join the others in welcoming the Holts’ neighbors to the ball.
Despite the anxiety fluttering in her heart, Ariadne beamed as she saw her mother and Lady Holt lingering outside the ballroom. Both ladies looked beautiful, her mother clothed in a becoming lavender gown while Lady Holt was dressed more festively in white and gold. “My dears, we have outdone ourselves,” Lady Holt announced. She nodded to a footman, who swung open a heavy oaken door. “I present to you our very own Yorkshire fairy land.”
Although Ariadne had of course seen the ballroom in the daytime and approved the glittering decorations, the ballroom took on an even more celestial atmosphere with the warm glow of the candlelight and the twinkling cast by the enormous crystal chandelier. The ballroom floor gleamed from the efforts of their polishing, and colorful ribbons bedecked the walls.
Ariadne caught her breath as James’s broad shoulders filled the doorway. She stepped away from their respective mothers and met him halfway across the room.
“My lady, you appear unearthly lovely tonight.”
A lump settled in Ariadne’s throat. What woman did not dream of the man she loved saying such beautiful things to her?
“Thank you, my lord.” My husband, she longed to say. If she told him the truth, she would never be able to call him by that title.
Three hours later, Ariadne’s face ached from smiling so often. She had never felt so light and carefree before. Despite her fears of appearing awkward on the dance floor, the villagers’ boisterous goodwill and James’s promise-filled gaze buoyed her. At the beginning of the night, she had enjoyed one dance with James before whirling away with the first of many partners eager
to visit with the viscount’s future bride. Once, she had glanced to the fringes of the dance floor to see James’s intense gaze focused on her. She had almost skipped a step as she recognized the possessive gleam in his eyes. Finally, breathless with laughter, she gracefully declined her next dance offer and went to stand by her mother.
“My darling, I am so tremendously proud of you.” Mrs. Alton’s eyes were bright with unshed tears. “How I wish your father could see the woman you have become; he would be so happy and so proud.” Her eyes displayed a faint questioning, and Ariadne knew she wondered whether Ariadne had confessed the truth to James.
Not wanting to ruin the evening, Ariadne squeezed her hand and simply said “Thank you, Mama.” The time for confessions would come soon enough, she sensed. At least she could enjoy just a little more time as the object of James’s attention.
“Your suitor approaches. I will retire now and let you tell me all about your lovely dance in the morning.” Mrs. Alton deftly snatched away Ariadne’s half-full glass of lemonade. Ariadne brushed back a tendril of hair that danced along the side of her cheek then folded her hands primly in front of her.
“May I have this dance?” James held out his hand.
Ariadne arched an eyebrow even as she accepted his work-hardened hands. “We have already danced tonight.”
“I deplore Polite Society’s insistence that we are only allowed a small number of dances. A man should be able to hold his future bride without worrying about the gossip and titters of jealous matrons and jaded beaus.”
“It will shock you to hear it, but I entirely agree with you.” Ariadne sucked in her breath as James pulled her close to him. After watching him work among his tenants, she knew he possessed an immense amount of strength, yet he held her gently as he guided her around the dance floor. Warmth flooded through her entire body as she met his determined gaze.
Ariadne was dimly aware of a disturbance to the side of the dance floor but couldn’t bring herself to tear her gaze away from James’s solemn face. Suddenly the waltz came to an abrupt halt in the middle of a stanza, and the dancers exclaimed in annoyance as they awkwardly forced themselves to stop mid-dance.
