DANGEROUS, Collection #1

by Patricia Rosemoor

  “You’re so beautiful.”

  “It’s the dark,” she whispered, trailing her fingers up the side of his face, acquainting herself with every inch of his skin. “The atmosphere. The storm. Wind and rain. All heighten the senses.”

  When she reached the scar, his eyes flickered closed and his breathing deepened. She traced the jagged line that was normally fine and barely discernable but that could throb with his emotions. Like now. Alive and pulsing, it told her what she needed to know.

  He wanted her as much as she wanted him.

  Threading her fingers in his hair, she pulled his face to hers and took his mouth, remembering and returning the arrogance of his first kiss out on the beach. While she drew his tongue into her mouth, she pulled at his t-shirt, fought with his belt, challenged his zipper. She wanted to feel his flesh on hers.

  In her.

  An affirmation that she was alive and whole and strong enough to take on anything and anyone.

  Bram groaned. Helped her.

  Naked, he took control, throwing her under the canopy, stripping his socks off her feet, rolling Miss Addy’s nightgown up her body. Slowly. Sliding his hands over every inch of her flesh. Smoothing away all the fears the night had brought. She welcomed his passionate mouth that explored her so thoroughly as he slid up between her thighs, his rougher skin making hers prickle in anticipation. By the time he was fully extended over her, her hands were pinned above her head, tangled in the material of the nightgown, and she thought she might drown in the intensity of her desire.

  His smile was sultry as he stroked her with his body, teased her with the tip of his flesh. Outside the storm raged no more powerfully than she did inside. She moved her hips and captured him. He thrust, filling her. And then the true storm began, slowly at first, then building higher and higher, their frenzied movements matching the beat of the rain against the house, their breathing more turbulent than the wind rustling the trees.

  Their joining was intense. Too intense to be prolonged. He slipped his hand between their bodies. The moment his fingers found her, she knew she was lost. Flooded with an ecstacy that opened her inner skies. Her cries came quick and sharp. He immediately tensed.

  At that moment, when all their senses were heightened to the zenith, lightning struck nearby, painting the room and him with a blue glow. And at that moment, he looked more like a ghost than the one she’d met, more than Donahue.

  Echo knew that for now and forever, no matter what directions their lives took, Bram Vantmatre and this night together would haunt her always.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Halloween

  IMPATIENT WITH being haunted by the past, Bram stroked Echo’s back as she lay curled up against him and mused, “If only Father would talk to us, maybe he could clear up this whole damn mystery.” He could hardly believe he was buying into the ghost of Dunescape Cottage, that his father was still around, but there it was.

  Not quite daybreak, the storm had finally let up and the electricity had been restored. The bedside lamp cast a soft golden glow over the magnificent woman he was certain he loved. He was happier than he’d ever remembered being. Now if only he could shed the burden of his past, everything would be perfect.

  Or so he hoped.

  Suddenly, Echo said, “That’s it!” popped up and rolled over on top of him, her messy red curls trailing across his chest. She was grinning. “We’ll stage a haunting that will get us some answers.”

  For a moment, he gave into the immediate physical need she teased from him. He trailed a finger along the curve of her breast. “A what?”

  “A seance.”

  The mention of the word immediately put Bram on edge. Aunt Addy had been taken by too many con artists’ promises. “Tell me you’re joking.”

  “No, really,” she said, face flushing with excitement. “Don’t you see? It’s the perfect solution.”

  “For what?” He was just getting used to the idea of his father’s hanging around. He hadn’t made the leap to believe they could make contact through some ridiculous ceremony. “I thought you didn’t do that sort of thing.”

  Echo sobered, rolled off his chest and drew the sheet around herself. “I’ve never participated in a seance but I have read about them,” she said. “And I’ve seen them done in movies. Look, I don’t mean a real seance. I’m talking about a performance to trap a criminal.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “You don’t like a lot of things.” She looked away. “Maybe you just don’t like me.”

  Taking the sheet with her, Echo whipped off the bed, but before she could get away, Bram reached out and grabbed her by the wrist, stopping her. “I love you.”

  Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped, but all she said was, “Oh.”

  No like confession from her. Bram concealed his own disappointment. “Come back to bed.” He tugged and she yielded. When she got settled, albeit keeping some distance between them this time, he asked, “So what do you think will come of holding a seance?”

  “Forget it. You’re not interested.”

  That tempted him to throttle her. “I’m interested in everything you have to say even if I don’t agree with it.”

  Her gaze met his. “We’ll spread the word that we’re going to try to crack the mystery of the missing jewels. And we’ll send formal invitations to everyone we’ve been speculating about. Everyone who might have been involved. Norbert and Travis Ferguson. Lena Rundle and Uriah Hawkes. Your mother and Aunt Addy. Sibyl Wilde. And while we’re at it, let’s include Priscilla Courtland.”

  “Then what? You think my father’s going to cooperate and appear on command?”

  “You can pretend to be your own father.”

  “As if people wouldn’t guess.”

  “Not if you’re at that seance table, they won’t.” Her expression turned smug. “I have a plan.”

  He listened, part of him appalled, another part thinking it was brilliant. Maybe she was right and they would catch not only a thief, but a murderer, as well.

  “WELCOME TO THE Haunted Mansion,” Miss Addy told the newcomers later that night.

  A clawlike hand darted out from the folds of her voluminous black cape and stole the tickets from the startled young couple dressed in sixties biker gear.

  “C’mon,” the young man said, steering his giggling date into the front parlor.

  Her face cast in shadow by her deep hood, Miss Addy cackled, making Echo smile. The elderly woman really was enjoying herself interacting with the ghouls and goblins, cartoon and fantasy characters, famous actors and infamous historical figures that had been parading through Dunescape Cottage since early that afternoon. Echo herself was dressed like a gypsy in long flowing skirts, an off the shoulder blouse and a brightly embroidered and fringed shawl. Appropriate garb for a medium, she thought.

  “It’s going so well the Water’s Edge Youth Group will have to do something special to thank you.”

  “No need. This house has been silent like a tomb for too many years.” Miss Addy cackled again. “Now it’s been turned into a tomb and it’s filled with happy sounds.”

  Indeed, everyone seemed to be in high spirits if the squeals and shrieks and laughter floating through the air over the beat of rock music from the ballroom were any indication.

  “Besides,” the elderly woman went on, “the seance you arranged is adequate reward. I promised Donahue I would prove myself to him and now I can.”

  Wondering what Miss Addy meant by that, Echo didn’t have time to dwell on the comment, for Bram found her and pulled her aside past the velvet rope that stopped customers from invading the quarters that were off-limits. He stopped near the library door.

  “Everything set?’

  “Roger will meet you in your room ten minutes before twelve,” she murmured for his ears only. Midnight being the appointed time for the seance to begin.

  “You really think this will work?”

  She gave his Phantom of the Opera hat, mask and cap
e a once over -- a costume she’d conned Roger Medlock into sharing. “My brother-in-law might be a bit heftier than you, but under that cape no one will notice.” Once the participants knew what Bram was wearing, the two men would switch places.

  “What if someone talks to him?”

  “His coming in late will help. And I’ll discourage conversation.”

  “And you? No stage fright?”

  “I’m fighting it. This has got to work.”

  “What’s gotta work, Auntie E?” came a muffled question from behind her.

  Jason and his date came up from the basement. Echo could hardly look at her nephew dressed as Dr. Hannibal Lecter from Silence of the Lambs without shivering. He wore not only the full face mask with holes, but the straight-jacket that reminded her of that time with Mama.

  She forced a smile and fibbed. “I was talking about all the gadgets, especially the fans and strobes in the maze. We wouldn’t want to disappoint any customers.”

  “Don’t worry,” Cheryl said. Dressed as Clarice from the same movie, she wielded a toy gun in one hand, shoved her “prisoner” around with the other. “Everything’s going way cool.”

  “We just came up to get some eats.”

  “Better hurry before they’re all gone,” Bram suggested.

  “Mom said she’d save us some. Later.”

  “Later.” Echo waited until they were out of view. “You’d better circulate. Make sure everyone who will be at the seance sees you in this costume.”

  “Priscilla Courtland arrived a short while ago. Very nervous. Said she wanted to get a look at the ballroom where the infamous theft happened.”

  “That means everyone is here but the Fergusons.”

  And Echo knew they had gotten their formal invitation hand-delivered by Jason late that morning. Norbert himself had been home to take it from her nephew.

  “Good luck kiss, my fair gypsy?” he murmured.

  Though she hadn’t completely gotten over her hurt of that morning, Echo lifted her face. The coins sewn to the scarf half covering her head jingled. Bram’s fingers stroked her throat as he took her lips. For a moment, she forgot all the strife and stress of the past days. He said he loved her and she knew she loved him, too. She felt abandoned when he moved back and tipped his opera hat.

  “Luck,” she whispered, watching him walk off.

  She spent the next half hour circulating from first floor to second, from ballroom to basement, trying to walk off the jitters she’d hedged about having. What had she gotten herself into? If their plan failed, things went wrong and Bram got caught, they’d look like absolute fools. Then, again, she supposed they could pretend the fake seance was merely a part of the planned festivities.

  Checking the ballroom a second time, she stood near the entrance to watch the costumed dancers. Thank goodness the weather had let up, though fog shrouded the lake and crept over the terrace in spooky fingers, while thunder rumbled in the distance. Surreptitiously, she looked over to the paneling concealing the hidden door.

  “Worried about something?”

  Startled, Echo whipped around to see Sibyl staring at her. The nurse had fashioned a provocative outfit of exotically patterned fabrics. Her head was covered as Grandmama Tisa’s had been in the photograph. And she was wearing the shell and bone necklace.

  “I’m making sure everything is going smoothly.”

  Sibyl’s gaze went to the elaborate silver, crystal and amethyst pendant Echo wore. “The latest for crystal-gazing?” she asked.

  “I don’t read crystal balls or tea leaves or tarot.”

  “But you think you know how to hold a seance?” Sibyl gave her a familiar slanted look. “Ever conduct one before?”

  “There always has to be a first time. Let’s call this an experiment.”

  “An amusing one, I am certain.” Attention wandering, Sibyl glanced around the room. “Ah, the Phantom of the Opera,” she said, already walking away from Echo and toward Bram. “I wonder if he dances as beautifully as he sings.”

  Glancing at the watch she’d stuffed in a pocket, Echo realized it was a quarter to twelve. Bram only had five minutes before he was supposed to meet Roger upstairs. She hoped he wouldn’t find it difficult to get away from Sibyl. No doubt the nurse would think they should enter the library together. She couldn’t worry about it. She had to prepare herself and the room, had to set the mood.

  Passing the kitchen where trays were being replenished with refreshments, she waved to Izzy, who gave her a worried look. Her sister knew she was up to something, conning Roger out of his costume as she had, but Echo had chosen to leave the explanations for later.

  Her systems were buzzing with heightened adrenaline as she entered the library. The fire burned low, exactly as she’d requested, and a single candle in a brass holder sat in the middle of the table Bram had ordered moved in. She turned off the room lights and walked over to the twin chairs before the fireplace.

  “Please let this work,” she whispered.

  Gradually, her stomach settled and her adrenaline level normalized. She had that feeling again of not being alone, but when she looked around she saw no one. No ghosts making guest appearances on this of all nights. How ironic.

  “If you truly are here somewhere, Donahue, I hope you’ll soon be at rest.”

  A warm breath of air across her bared shoulders told her he had heard and made her feel less foolish.

  “CAN I FOOL THEM?” Roger Medlock asked, pulling the cape around himself more tightly.

  “You’ll do,” Bram agreed. Between the mask that covered half his face and the brim of the opera hat shading the rest, he was unrecognizable. “Good luck.”

  Roger nodded and opened the door a crack. “When this is over, you and my sister-in-law have some explaining to do.” With that, he left the bedroom and headed straight for the stairs.

  Dressed in black pants and boots and a black silk shirt with full sleeves, his hair tousled and falling over his forehead, Bram waited until a few revelers passed on their way to the guest wing. Then he followed as far as the linen closet. One last look around to make certain no one was watching and he slipped inside, closed the door and let himself into the hidden staircase.

  He was halfway down to the coal bin, passing the secret door at the butler’s pantry when he went over the plan, for him to get to the other stairway that led to the library, Sibyl’s bedroom. He would go only as far as the first floor, however, and wait outside the library until Echo called up his father’s spirit. And, with her misdirecting the participants, he would be able to slip inside through the hidden door. Simple, he thought, stepping into the coal bin. Hopefully effective.

  Distracted as he was, he heard the scuffle behind him too late. He turned directly into something hard and ungiving. Dizzy, he fell to his knees. When he tried to rise, his attacker struck again, hitting him on the back of the head with tremendous force.

  Bram’s world exploded into a blaze of white light and he went under without a sound...

  ...sometime later, he groaned and stirred.

  What the hell are you doing down here?

  I would think that’s obvious. What do you propose to do about it?

  Turn you in.

  The voices dug deep into Bram’s subconscious. He fought for a moment, tried to surface, to focus on them, then gave in and let them flow as they would.

  Are you willing to turn her in, too?

  Her, who? He’d missed it!

  She had nothing to do with this. I know her as well as I know myself.

  So you know everything about her, eh? Even that she’s my mistress?

  Liar! She wouldn’t do that, not take up with someone like you. A married man.

  Right under your own roof—

  Bram floated, was aware of a woman’s voice. Three people now.

  We’re in love. We have been for a long time.

  And you helped him in this foul scheme?

  Helped? The woman sounded horrified. Oh, my God, no! You
didn’t...you betrayed me!

  I was desperate. I had to have money.

  You played me for a fool. You knew about tonight.

  Who was she? Mother? Aunt Addy? Lena? If only he could concentrate harder.

  Cruel laughter was followed by a scuffle. Heavy breathing. Male grunts as knuckles smacked against flesh. A crash was followed by heavy footsteps running.

  And then the footsteps stopped.

  ... you startled me.

  And a fourth person. How many were involved?

  How do you know about this place?

  I followed the sound and—

  You came from the tunnel. How did you know about the tunnel? The voice paused. Then, What?

  Behind you!

  A thunk and a crash and the voices had no more to say to him. A dragging sound echoed and faded.

  Bram tried to awaken. His mind was willing, but his body refused. He had to come out of this. Had to get to the library. To Echo. Though he feared she was in mortal danger, he couldn’t force his body to obey him.

  Was it possible that he was dead?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “WE’RE HERE TO speak to the dead,” Echo pronounced, staring into the lone candle flame.

  Her solemn gaze shifted, flicked from one participant to the next. All invited had shown but Travis and Lena. Had Norbert told his son or had Travis refused? And halfway through the evening, Lena had simply disappeared.

  Echo tried to read expressions, but most remained hidden. Katherine’s and Priscilla’s, Norbert’s and of course Robert’s behind elaborate masks. Miss Addy’s under the voluminous hood of her cape. That left Sibyl and Uriah. The nurse merely appeared contemptuous, while the groundskeeper did a poor job of hiding his hostility. Wearing his own clothing rather than a costume, he’d been the last to arrive and hadn’t uttered a word to anyone.