Tempted at Christmas

by Kate Pearce

  The second concern was that she’d learned that Redgrave was staying at Hollybrook Park, which shouldn’t have surprised her since he would wish to be with his sister. What was alarming was that several wedding guests had chosen to stay there as well because they were afraid of the ghosts at Castle Keyvnor. Those guests also happened to count a number of misses. How many, she did not know, but she feared that Redgrave’s mistletoe had ripened and she’d never see him again.

  Then there was the Earl of Somerton. She’d danced with him in the past, but last night he was more attentive than before, even took her for a stroll about the room. Then this morning he sought her out for a walk in the maze and she couldn’t quite determine why. Perhaps it was the more relaxed setting, or maybe the holidays. He was quite entertaining, but he wasn’t Redgrave.

  Blast! She must stop thinking about Redgrave. He wasn’t for her, which the mistletoe had been very clear about, but it was hard to let go of what she’d hoped for from the first time she had spotted him.

  Then there was Oliver, who had oddly been absent for the evening. Perhaps that was why the evening wasn’t as comfortable for her as it could have been. In the past, it was Oliver who’d kept her entertained with his little witticisms about those present at any event, when he wasn’t teasing her about being Ethan’s protector. Now that she had no need to watch Ethan, perhaps Oliver didn’t feel the need to be by her side.

  Those were the very reasons she returned to her chamber for her sketchbook and pencils. Designing gowns always calmed her, and the blue parlor was perfect for sketching.

  A chill swept through Holly as she entered, however. It was much colder in here today than it was yesterday. Goodness, she might need to retreat to a warmer room in the castle.

  Glancing around, she noted twice as many ghosts as before and a few of them were pacing as if worried.

  Pacing? Worried? What kind of concerns could ghosts have, other than their inability to move on, of course?

  “Was the Gypsy able to help you?”

  Holly jumped at the unexpected voice and whirled around. Sir Gervase stood before her.

  “Madam Boswell gave me a talisman to protect my guardian and he now has it with him.” Holly sighed and walked toward the windows to look out into the gardens. Dormant raised beds spread out below with the only green from the boxwoods that formed an intricate knot garden. How did one plant flowers between the ovals surrounded by hedges? Of course, one could step over the low bushes if one wished.

  “Why so sad? It is not what you wanted?”

  Another heavy sigh. “Of course it’s what I want, and I hope he finds his true love.”

  “Are you sure it is not you who are in love with him?”

  Holly turned toward the Knight Templar. “I assure you that I am not. It’s just that…”

  “Yes?”

  “There is a gentleman that I am fond of, but he is not meant for me.” There, she admitted it out loud.

  “How do you know?”

  “Because he visited Madam Boswell as well.” She released another sigh, and then she explained about the mistletoe.

  “The path to his true love?”

  “Yes,” Holly answered. “And the mistletoe remained quite dead around me.”

  Sir Gervase frowned. “Let me think on this for a moment.”

  “What is there to think on? Madam Boswell was quite clear.”

  “Yes, but it is an enchantment, brought about by the witches. Some of their spells are easy and clear, others can be more convoluted.”

  “I don’t believe there is anything remotely complicated this time.”

  “Let me consult with Benedict Nankervis. He is more attuned to love than anyone else at the castle.”

  “Who is Benedict Nankervis?” She’d not heard his name mentioned since her arrival, but Holly hadn’t yet met everyone.

  “He made the mistake of serenading the wrong queen and Henry VIII had him beheaded.”

  Holly blinked. “Does he walk around headless?”

  Sir Gervase laughed. “No, Benedict arrived in the afterlife with his head intact.”

  That was a relief. The ghosts hadn’t bothered her, but she wasn’t quite certain what she’d have done had she encountered a headless one.

  More ghosts had entered since she began speaking with Sir Gervase. “Perhaps I should go. I don’t wish to intrude.”

  “Oh, never mind them,” he dismissed.

  “Are they agitated?” Holly couldn’t believe she was even asking such a question.

  Sir Gervase frowned. “There is a sense of danger, if you must know. Something has come to Castle Keyvnor.”

  Alarm swept through her. “Danger?”

  “Not to the living,” he quickly assured her. “To us.”

  What could possibly threaten a ghost? “What is it?”

  “We do not know, but we definitely feel something different.”

  “Oh, I do hope you’re wrong.”

  “As do I,” he agreed. “When I have an answer, I will seek you out.” Sir Gervase bowed deeply then vanished.

  As much as Holly appreciated his help, she didn’t hold out hope that the mistletoe would ever lead Redgrave to her.

  The damned mistletoe was broken, of that Anthony was certain. However, he made a point to visit with all of the misses at his sister’s home last evening, as well as at breakfast this morning, and once again at the start of tea. Not one berry ripened nor did any of the leaves begin to turn green, which was a great relief, as he didn’t wish for the plant to ripen around anyone who was not Miss Prescott.

  He thought to return to Madam Boswell so that the mistletoe could be fixed, but then it occurred to him that maybe it was simple interference from the numerous spirits living at the castle. With that thought, he decided to visit again. Even though Anthony had no intention of being at Castle Keyvnor more than necessary, if at all, Keyvnor was where Miss Prescott was. However, he did wonder if he should warn her that the Gypsy or Wiccan magic might be faulty. Not that it had been for Charlotte, but the mistletoe in his pocket was another matter entirely.

  Except if Miss Prescott feared the talisman wouldn’t protect Westbury, she’d go back to watching her guardian instead of enjoying herself, and Anthony wanted her focus off the duke for a change.

  It was a dilemma that left him torn. While he understood Miss Prescott’s concern for Westbury, and it was rather endearing, Anthony was certain Westbury wasn’t a fool. He’d not succumb to a scheming female any more than Anthony would. If anything, and from what Anthony had observed, His Grace was more cautious than most and stayed well within the bounds of propriety in every situation.

  With that thought in mind, Anthony decided that he’d keep his concerns to himself. He didn’t need Miss Prescott worrying. Besides, if the mistletoe truly was broken, then the fact that it hadn’t come to life when he was with her didn’t mean anything, and Anthony wasn’t going to waste valuable time worrying about the damned dead plant when he could be spending time with Miss Prescott.

  “Is Miss Prescott taking tea, Mrs. Bray?” Anthony asked the housekeeper upon entering the castle.

  “She has gone to the blue parlor.”

  Blue parlor? Anthony didn’t recall a blue parlor from his earlier visit.

  “Turn left at the top of the stairs. You will find it at the end of the corridor.”

  “These stairs?” Anthony asked in confirmation since there were a number of stairs in the castle and one could get quite lost wandering about.

  “Yes, those stairs, but I should warn you that the room is quite cold, even in the summer.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Bray.” He wasn’t about to let a little chill keep him away from Miss Prescott, and thus he mounted the stairs and marched toward the blue parlor.

  As he neared the parlor in question, Anthony slowed his steps. Voices spilled into the corridor. Who was Miss Prescott speaking with? It was a gentleman, but Anthony didn’t recognize the voice.

  “He made the mist
ake of serenading the wrong queen, and Henry VIII had him beheaded.”

  “Does he walk around headless?” Miss Prescott asked.

  Ah, they must be discussing a ghost.

  The gentleman laughed, irritating Anthony to no end.

  “No, Benedict arrived in the afterlife with his head intact.”

  Who the blazes was charming Miss Prescott with stories of ghosts? If anyone was going to charm her it was going to be him, though his ghost stories weren’t exactly charming, but there were a number of other topics he could choose.

  “Perhaps I should go. I don’t wish to intrude.”

  Were others in the room? Anthony only heard the two voices.

  “Oh, never mind them.”

  Who? Anthony edged toward the entry.

  “Are they agitated?” Miss Prescott asked.

  “There is a sense of danger, if you must know. Something has come to Castle Keyvnor.”

  Alarm swept through Anthony and his thoughts mirrored Miss Prescott’s words, “Danger?”

  If there was another murderous ghost about, Anthony would insist on taking Miss Prescott from Keyvnor. He’d happily give up his un-haunted chamber at Hollybrook if it meant she’d be safe.

  “Not to the living,” he quickly assured her. “To us.”

  Bloody hell! Was she talking to a ghost?

  He shook the thought from his mind. Ghosts don’t talk, they just float about and sometimes try to kill people, like his sister.

  But, if the living weren’t in danger, who did that leave?

  This was Castle Keyvnor, so Anthony supposed anything was possible, though ghosts being in danger did seem rather odd. However, if someone wanted to do away with Baron Tyrell, the ghost that had tried to kill Charlotte, Anthony would offer no argument.

  “What is it?” Miss Prescott asked.

  “We do not know, but we definitely feel something different.”

  “Oh, I do hope you are wrong.”

  “As do I,” he agreed. “When I have an answer, I will seek you out.”

  What answers? The danger or something else? Or, what was Miss Prescott seeking? Why hadn’t she asked him?

  This was ridiculous. He wasn’t going to stand in the corridor eavesdropping. However, when he stepped into to the blue parlor, Miss Prescott was quite alone.

  Anthony stopped short. He had heard a gentleman’s voice, of that he was certain.

  A chill ran up his spine as the coldness in the room began to sink into his bones. “Miss Prescott, were you just speaking with someone?”

  She glanced back from the window and smiled. “Sir Gervase, a Knight’s Templar.”

  Her response was so natural and unalarmed that it was almost disturbing. “A Knight’s Templar?” he asked slowly. “Weren’t the Crusades centuries ago?”

  “Of course.” She laughed. “Though I’m not sure how he came to be here.”

  Shouldn’t a miss, or anyone, be alarmed, or at least concerned, to be talking with a ghost?

  “Unfortunately, Benedick is unavailable, my lady, I shall seek his guidance…”

  Anthony blinked as a ghost materialized before him. The knight was certainly a Templar, given the white cloak and the red cross. Anthony had only seen drawings and paintings, but assumed those had been accurate.

  “Thank you for asking, Sir Gervase,” Miss Prescott responded.

  The ghost narrowed his eyes on Anthony as he moved his hand to the hilt of his sword. “Who is this?” Sir Gervase demanded as he moved to block Anthony from Miss Prescott. Anthony could see her through the ghostly form, but he wasn’t going to do anything that Sir Gervase might interpret as threatening. The ghost did have a sword, whether it would do him any good or not was not something Anthony wasn’t willing to risk.

  “Sir Gervase, may I introduce you to Viscount Redgrave.”

  “Viscount?” Gervase asked.

  “Yes.” Anthony answered and wondered why that might make a difference.

  “What are your intentions?”

  Anthony blinked at him. How the blazes was he to answer that question? The knight was a ghost, not Miss Prescott’s guardian.

  “Lord Redgrave is the one with the dead mistletoe,” Miss Prescott explained.

  “Ah, now I understand.” Lord Gervase removed his hand from the hilt of his sword.

  What did he understand? Anthony looked to Miss Prescott. She simply smiled.

  “Well, I’ll be about my business. I hope the two of you have a pleasant afternoon.” With that, he was gone.

  Miss Prescott bit her bottom lip, as if trying to fight a smile. “He is rather gallant, isn’t he?”

  “For a ghost, I suppose,” Anthony grumbled.

  Was he actually jealous of a spirit?

  “Were you looking for me?” she asked.

  “Yes, um…I thought…” Damn and blast, since when did he have difficulty talking to a miss? “I thought that….perhaps we could…” What the blazes could they do in Bocka Morrow? It wasn’t as if they could drive through Hyde Park to get ices from Gunter’s.

  “Yes?” she prompted.

  “A walk in the gardens perhaps, or drive into the village?”

  Miss Prescott’s eyes lightened as she smiled shyly at him. “Hasn’t the mistletoe ripened?”

  It didn’t sit well with him to lie to her but he couldn’t very well tell Miss Prescott that it had only occurred in a room full of gentlemen. “Not around any of the young ladies here.” There, that was the truth.

  “Shouldn’t you remain here? Others are to arrive and the mistletoe might point you to your future.”

  “Well, it can just ripen at another time,” Anthony dismissed. “I’d much prefer to spend the afternoon with you.”

  Color stained her cheeks once again. “I’d like that as well.”

  Anthony took her hand in his then lifted it to his lips. It was all he could do not to pull her forward so that he might kiss her lips instead of the back of her hand.

  No one was about. What harm would there be in one little kiss? It wasn’t as if anyone would know.

  Anthony took a step toward her as he twined his fingers with hers. Miss Prescott’s blue eyes grew wide, but she didn’t back away. With another step, her lips parted as her tongue darted out to moisten her upper lip. It was all he could do not to groan aloud. He’d not touched more than her hand and already the passion was rioting in his body, as it had done when they’d danced. Before, Anthony had tamped it down because he believed her to be in love with Westbury, but now that he knew she wasn’t, he’d not deny either of them just one simple kiss.

  Chapter 8

  Holly’s heart sped as Redgrave moved closer, and then his lips touched hers and Holly’s eyes fluttered closed. So gentle and so sweet. Her first kiss and it couldn’t have been more prefect. As a hand slipped about her waist, Redgrave’s lips pressed further and a number of new sensations swarmed her body from the tingling of his hand through her gown, to the heat of his kiss, warming her entire body. When the tip of his tongue touched her lips, heat washed through her as she parted and had to grasp his shoulders to keep from collapsing because she was fairly certain her legs would no longer hold her on their own. As his other hand caressed her cheek and neck, he delved deeper and Holly was well and truly lost. This moment could go on forever and it was more than she ever dreamed a kiss could be.

  At the slam of the door, she jumped away from Redgrave and turned, but no human was present. Instead, a number of ghosts stared at her. The older ladies’ lips were pursed in disappointment while the men were grinning, and a nun held her hand over the little boy’s eyes, though he could see through the hand well enough and looked as if he’d eaten something sour. Holly’s face flooded with a different kind of heat as she stepped away from Redgrave. Goodness, how could she have forgotten herself?

  “Who slammed the door?” Redgrave asked.

  The ghosts turned as Sir Gervase materialized. “I wished to protect your reputation.”

  Goodness, it w
as warm in here for a change. “Thank you.”

  “But you should part. You are not to be alone long.”

  “Where did all these other ghosts come from?” Redgrave whispered.

  Holly blinked at him. “They’ve been here all along. Didn’t you see them before?”

  “No. I didn’t,” he ground out and stepped away from her just as the door opened.

  Oliver stepped inside and stopped, one eyebrow raised as he looked from Holly to Redgrave and back to Holly.

  “Am I irrupting anything?” He causally strolled forward.

  “Of course not,” Holly answered. Thank goodness Sir Gervase had shut the door or she would have been caught in a near compromising position. It was bad enough that they were alone in the parlor, worse behind a closed door, but thank goodness it was Oliver who found them and not someone else.

  “I thought you’d be sketching. I didn’t expect Redgrave to be here.” He eyed the viscount with distrust.

  “We were simply talking,” Holly answered. It was unusual for Oliver to be so tense. Did he really think she’d been compromised? Was he going to speak to Westbury?

  Goodness! That would never do. It was only a kiss, and if Oliver or Ethan forced Redgrave’s hand then he’d never find the woman who was meant for him. “Did you need something?” She hadn’t seen Oliver since yesterday afternoon.

  “It’s not important,” he hedged.

  Perhaps it wasn’t since Oliver often came looking for her when he was bored. However, the castle was full of misses, so it was a wonder Oliver even remembered she was here.

  “However, I would suggest that the two of you return to a more occupied portion of the castle.” He leveled his eyes on Redgrave. “I’d hate for Miss Prescott’s reputation to be called into question.”

  Tension also radiated off Redgrave. Of course he was concerned. He didn’t want his hand forced any more than she did. No matter how wonderful their kiss, the mistletoe did not respond to her presence so she must leave him be. “Yes, we should.” Holly picked up her sketchbook. “I’ll just return this to my chamber and meet you in the drawing room.”