Masque of Enchantment

by Charlene Cross

  Jared sprang from the desk and strode to the side table and the brandy. “I think it’s best if Megan and I both teach you the signs we use,” he stated in an agitated voice as he poured himself a healthy shot. “We’ll begin our first lesson at supper.”

  Confused by his sudden anger, Alissa stared at his back. Undoubtedly she had done something to rouse his temper, but she couldn’t fathom what it could be.

  Having swallowed his drink, Jared dashed another large swig into the glass and gazed at the amber liquid. Should he keep to a steady diet of it, as he seemed prone to do of late, he was certain to find himself in the gutter. Again he found himself willing to blame Miss Pembroke for his lack of control. Deciding Megan didn’t need a drunkard as a father, he set the glass aside and capped the decanter, the crystal top clinking roughly into place.

  Jared turned and was surprised to see Megan’s governess still in the room. All prim and proper-looking, the woman’s eyes followed his every move. “If you intend to arrive in the dining room on time,” he announced curtly, his eyes on the clock, “I suggest you find Megan and make your way downstairs. You have precisely five minutes.”

  “As you wish, sir,” Alissa said, repeating Leona’s words upon her dismissal, and rose. “We’ll be most prompt.”

  Jared watched her graceful glide as she exited the room. Drawing a cleansing breath, he closed his eyes and expelled it from his lungs, wondering why he had attacked her with his words. The problem lay not with her, but with himself. The dreams … if they’d only stop! But with their growing frequency, he doubted they would.

  Once Alissa hit the hallway, she ran down the corridor toward her room. The walls swayed and weaved, the carpet rose and receded. What was wrong with her vision? she wondered, then realized the distortions were caused by her tears.

  CHAPTER

  Seven

  Bathed in silver moonbeams, draped in gossamer as translucent as a fairy’s wing, the graceful figure of a woman danced alone in a forest’s glade. A summer’s breeze caressed her long, mahogany tresses, freeing and lifting them to cascade wildly around her slender body. Arms raised toward the luminous energy in the night’s sky, she swayed sensuously as though she were beckoning to her lover.

  His vision veiled in passion, Jared watched her inviting movements from afar, fire racing through his veins. Unable to keep from her a moment longer, he crossed the clearing without a sound. The night wind ruffled his hair, billowed his shirt, but it could not cool the hot flame burning in his loins.

  Too many times she had escaped him, and he was always left wanting, tormented, his urgent desires unfulfilled. This time, he promised, he would discover her name; this time she would be his.

  Behind her now, his arm encircled her small waist, and he pulled her hard against his chest. She did not struggle, but only moaned as though her own passion longed for fulfillment. Her head lolled against his shoulder, and Jared inhaled the sweet scent of lavender and wild rose as her silken hair brushed his cheek. His senses burst with the smell of her, his control shattered, and his lips urgently trailed the satin threads to her ear. Desperate to taste more of her, he turned her in his arms, and she arched, pressing her soft body fully to his. Her head thrown back, she offered her creamy throat, and Jared’s lips traced its curve, upward to her jaw, her cheek; then with an agonized groan, his searching mouth captured hers.

  Sweet and yielding, she responded, her lips parting, her small tongue seeking, teasing his. Lightning shot to his core, and his arms tightened around her. Needing her, wanting her, more than he could ever have imagined, he lowered her to the thick, fragrant carpet. The long grasses concealed them as he covered her lithe body with his own, his fingers threading through her hair to lift her face to his once more.

  The fibrous strands suddenly coiled around his hands, binding them, and like a moth trapped in a spider’s web, he found he could not break free.

  “Spirits are the devil’s henchmen,” the shrewish voice echoed in his ears, and the gauze curtain dropped from his eyes to reveal the wan, hollow-eyed governess, lying beneath him. His hands still ensnared, he watched in horror as her pallid skin peeled from her face; black holes stared up at him from a mask of death.

  Instantly, he rolled from the lifeless hag, yet his hands remained tangled, enmeshed. Wildly, his eyes focused to discover the cloying thing was a hairnet!

  Then, like a living, breathing thing, it began to grow. It enveloped his face, his chest, his body—tightening, constricting, crushing the life from him. He couldn’t breathe!

  With a jerk, Jared awoke, his arms fighting down the bed covers that had wrapped themselves around his face, and cast them to the floor. Drawing a breath until his lungs burned, he exhaled slowly and shook his head to clear it.

  Another nightmare! The damned things were coming more frequently, more vividly, until he was certain they were real and not some bugbear, chasing him through the night.

  Still dazed, he leapt from his sweat-soaked bed, his naked body glistening in the moonlight that streamed through the windows. He moved to the washstand and bathed his face and arms, then worked downward to his feet. Once dried, he slipped into his quilted satin robe and lashed the belt tightly at his narrow waist.

  He breathed steadily now, his head having cleared, and decided it was time to check on Megan. Knowing the way by heart, he left his quarters and traveled the darkened hallway. As his hand settled on the door handle, it was pulled from his grasp, and the panel swung inward.

  Startled, he glimpsed the shadowy figure of a woman, the moonlight illuminating her silhouette from behind, and before he could move, she stepped headlong into his body. The force of it knocked her backward, and Jared’s arm immediately encircled her waist, his hand clamping over her mouth to stop her scream. “Ssh, it’s only me,” he whispered, and felt her relax for an instant, then quickly stiffen against him.

  Alissa’s heart tripped wildly in her chest. With the length of her body pressed tightly to Jared’s, she felt an odd sensation erupt somewhere deep inside, and it frightened her. “Let loose of me,” she insisted in a harsh whisper, her hands pushing against his solid chest.

  Jared honored her request. His arm slipped from her waist; the long strands of satiny hair brushed his hand. The feel of it surprised him, confused him.

  “Why are you sneaking about in the dark?” she asked waspishly, incensed by the scare he’d given her, embarrassed by the reaction he’d caused.

  “I could ask the same of you,” he replied, leaning his shoulder against the door frame, his arms crossing over his wide chest.

  “I was checking on Megan.”

  “So was I.” Then he desperately searched the darkness, his eyes roving her moon-bathed outline, but she remained featureless as the night’s luminescence reflected off her coarse cotton wrapper. A wealth of silky hair tumbled around her shoulders and down her back, a silvery halo crowning her head. Jared felt he was reliving his dream. Raw desire suddenly shot to his core. Stunned by its force, he pushed from the wood. “Go to your room,” he ordered gruffly.

  Surprised by his rough tone, Alissa stared through the dark shadows, unable to see him. Then she sensed his movement, and fearing he was closing in on her, she fled Megan’s doorway. Her shoulder brushed his chest, and his hand caught her arm. She tried to break free, but his fingers tightened, almost painfully.

  “Henceforth,” he said, in an oddly constricted voice, “keep to your rooms at night.”

  Then he released her, and Alissa rushed to her door, her silent feet sinking into the blood-red carpet. Once inside she settled against the locked panel, her body shaking from head to foot.

  Her rapid breaths eased to a slower draw, and she tried to fathom what had suddenly made him become so threatening. She never completely understood the man, not from one moment to the next. Then she decided she never would. But one thing was certain. She planned to heed his warning. He could see to Megan at night, she would remain in her rooms.

  Again making cert
ain her door was secured, Alissa slipped from her robe, then climbed into her bed. Too weary to think, she settled under the covers and sank into a deep, soundless sleep, the incident forgotten.

  Jared had lingered in the hallway, fighting for control. When the door handle jiggled, breaking the night’s silence, he’d smiled derisively.

  Had she tarried but a moment longer, she might have discovered herself pinned to the floor, he atop her, his carnal lusts responding to her writhing form, his desires raging out of control. At that moment, he’d cared not what she truly looked like, for in the darkness she could be whomever he’d wanted, whomever he’d desired. And he’d desired the woman in his dreams, the one who had beckoned to him, the one who had enchanted him, the one he’d held in his aching arms before she suddenly changed into a loathsome sight. As Megan’s governess stood there, faceless, bathed in moonlight, she had suddenly become that woman, his Hermia.

  Disgusted, Jared raked his long fingers through his hair. He was appalled by his thoughts, for he’d never force himself upon a woman. Never! he proclaimed silently.

  He suddenly wondered … could it be possible there was a dark side emerging from within him, one he never knew existed until now? Tormented by his dreams, his nightmares, he felt as though he were going insane!

  After checking on his daughter to find her fast asleep, Jared strode to his rooms. Tossing the bed covers onto the mattress, he stripped from his robe, then lay naked atop the sheets. His arm propped beneath his head, he stared at the canopy. If only he could discover Hermia’s real name, he thought. It was useless, though, for by the time he’d returned from Selkirk, his rooms had been cleaned and the newspaper discarded, the actress’s true identity with it. Yet, if he could learn her name, perhaps he’d be able to find her and put an end to his nightly bedevilment. He scoffed at the thought. All of Britain searched for her without success. What made him think he’d be able to discover her whereabouts!

  “Enough of this,” he growled, weary of the whole thing. He needed to be up and about at sunrise. Yet, although he knew he needed sleep, he fought it, certain the agonizing fantasies would start anew.

  CHAPTER

  Eight

  As Alissa slowly descended the grand staircase, in search of Megan’s favorite doll, she carefully pondered the words she’d just overheard as two gossiping maids prepared Robert Hamilton’s room, readying it for his arrival.

  “I tell ye, he murdered his wife,” the one had said, her voice filtering into the hallway through the open door, and Alissa had stopped short.

  “If that be true, why ain’t he hangin’ from the gallows by now?” the other countered.

  “’Cause they cain’t prove he did it. He burnt up the evidence.”

  “Aw, yer daft.”

  “Ain’t neither. The talk be, his wife had a lover here’bouts, and when he caught wind of it, bein’ jealous and all, he killed her. Burnt her up, all crispy, he did.”

  Angered by their vicious prattle, especially since it could very well have been Megan who’d overheard their tripe, Alissa had stepped into the room. With her eyes condemning, her voice glacial, she’d said, “I suggest you both be about your business and leave the gossip to those who reside outside these walls, or I’ll see to it you join them.” Neither woman could face her, and with a last fluffing of the pillows, both had rushed from the room.

  Although she knew their words had not an ounce of credence, Alissa still found herself wondering about them. A seed of doubt, she thought, then wiped the entire episode from her mind.

  Alissa’s feet hit the landing between the second and first floors, and she descended another dozen steps, when she stopped to watch Mr. Stanley straighten his new livery, smooth the few hairs atop his head, and swing wide the front door to reveal a striking woman on the doorstep.

  “Jared,” she fairly gushed, “it’s so good to see you again.” Removing her light wrap and feather-bedecked hat to expose her fiery red hair, she shoved both into Mr. Stanley’s arms. Then in a rustle of petticoats and green silk dress, she moved straight toward the handsome man, standing in the center of the entry hall. “Aren’t you happy to see me?” she questioned with a pretty pout.

  Alissa watched as the redhead raised her cheek for Jared’s kiss, but he clasped her hands instead.

  “Surprised is the better word, Patricia,” Jared answered, holding her at a distance. “I wasn’t aware Robert was bringing you along.”

  Not to be rebuffed, the woman brushed Jared’s hands aside and raised on tiptoes, pressing her full lips against his. “Jared, dearest. You act as though we’re strangers,” Patricia admonished playfully. “It’s only been a few months since we’ve seen each other. When Robert said he was coming, I decided at the last moment to join him. But it’s Megan I want to see. However, brother-in-law, I somehow feel unwelcome.”

  “You’re always welcome, Patricia,” he lied, smoothly. “However, a little notice would have made Mrs. Dugan a bit happier. She hasn’t prepared a room for you.”

  “Oh, tosh, the woman always wears a long face,” she said with a small frown, then her lips broke into a teasing smile. “Just have my luggage sent to my usual room, the one across from Megan’s playroom.” Her hand lifted to straighten Jared’s collar. “Mrs. Dugan can see to its preparation later.”

  Alissa realized the redhead referred to her own room and wondered if it would present a problem. As she viewed the beauty, she suddenly felt exceedingly plain. True, the original intent of her disguise was to appear somewhat dowdy, but once stripped of it, she doubted she’d ever be able to match Patricia’s physical grace.

  She watched the redhead’s flirtatious advances, aimed openly at Jared. Alissa felt a twinge of anger, perhaps even jealousy. Certainly not! she told herself in haughty denial. But, oh, to wear fine dresses again, she thought, attributing the lingering emotion to mere envy.

  Jared removed Patricia’s hand from his chest, where it had lazily wandered and remained. Already, he was becoming annoyed with her feminine wiles. She reminded him too much of Celeste, not only in looks, but in her actions, as well. When he was young, he was easily aroused by such alluring displays, and his blood would stir, but now he was sickened by them. “The room, I’m afraid, is already occupied. You’ll have to choose another.”

  “Occupied?” Patricia countered, a little more than surprised. “By whom?”

  “By Megan’s new governess.”

  Patricia’s mind raced. She hadn’t counted on this. “You never mentioned you were hiring a governess,” she accused. “Why does the child even need one? I would think her family would be more understanding than some stranger. In fact, Jared, that’s why I’ve come. I want to help—”

  “Miss Pembroke,” Jared called over his shoulder as Alissa turned, starting to retreat up the stairs. She’d listened long enough and didn’t wish to become embroiled in a family discussion on what was, or was not, good for Megan. The one with Mrs. Dugan had been quite enough. “Would you please join us?” he finished.

  Since his back was to her, she wondered how he could have possibly known she was there. Descending the remaining half-dozen or so steps, she felt Patricia’s assessing gaze on her. Apparently satisfied that Alissa posed no threat, the woman smiled.

  Just as she reached Jared’s side, several footmen hustled through the doorway, followed by Mr. Stanley and two of Jared’s servants. All were laden down with trunks, bags, and boxes of every size and shape. The ensuing commotion distracted everyone.

  “It was your shoes,” Jared said in a low aside to Alissa as he watched the men juggle Patricia’s luggage.

  “What are you talking about?” Alissa countered.

  “The reason I knew you were on the stairs.” His lips twitched and finally broke into a grin. “You’re right, they do squeak. In the future, if you plan to sneak about, I’d suggest you oil them.”

  Alissa turned a stony eye toward him. If she had had a good-sized limb within reach, preferably the entire tree, she’d have
crowned him with it. Nothing slipped past the man.

  Suddenly a hatbox toppled from the towering stack in Mr. Stanley’s arms, and Patricia shrieked in dismay. “Now look what you’ve done!” she cried, rushing to retrieve the spilled hats from beneath the man’s feet.

  Mr. Stanley—who Alissa had since learned was Jared’s butler, manservant, and coachman, all rolled into one—shot his employer a pleading look. He then turned a disgruntled eye to the floor as he danced from one foot to the other, Patricia’s hands nipping at his heels, while he tried to balance the remaining boxes, which shifted wildly in his arms.

  “If this was a last-minute decision,” Alissa spoke aloud, not realizing she did so, “I wonder what she’d have packed if her visit had been planned at length.”

  “I’ve been wondering the same,” Jared replied in a dull tone, and headed toward Mr. Stanley.

  When Jared had relieved him of the top three boxes, Mr. Stanley released a long breath. “Thought ye’d never get here.”

  “Jared, you really must hire yourself more competent help,” Patricia complained as she rose from the waist with several hats in hand. The once beautiful chapeaus now resembled plucked pigeons, their plumes shattered, the down missing along their shafts. “Look! They’re ruined!”

  “I’ll buy you a half-dozen others as replacements,” Jared stated, “but I ask you to remember that you are the one who has elected to come to Hawkstone, uninvited. Therefore, you will not voice your displeasure with my staff.”

  Alissa was as much taken aback by his curt words as Patricia seemed to be. “I’m sorry, Jared,” the redhead placated swiftly. “I’ve forgotten just how much Mr. Stanley means to you. How long has he been in your employ now?”

  “A dozen years, miss,” Mr. Stanley answered a bit tersely. “And they be right good ones, too.”

  “Enough, Mr. Stanley,” Jared said as he shoved the boxes back into the man’s arms. Taking the mangled hats from Patricia’s hands, he stuffed them into the uppermost box, and smashed the lid on it. “Put these things in the corner and go find Mrs. Dugan. Tell her to open another room for our unexpected guest.”