Ghost Girl

by C. J. Archer

  He held up the shirt. "Irwin sent it along with the rest of the suit. It's in his room. I'll bring it to you, sir, and help you dress if you like."

  "I can dress myself," Quin said.

  "Do you know how to tie a tie?"

  "It doesn't look difficult."

  Tommy gave him a smug smile then went to fetch the suit from the guest bedroom that had been assigned to Quin while we three headed to mine. We checked up and down the hallway before slipping inside.

  I sank down on the bed with a sigh and began to lift my skirts. Quin frowned. "Are you injured?"

  "My knees sting a little."

  "Cara!" Sylvia snatched my skirts out of my hand and pulled the hem down to my ankles. "What do you think you're doing?"

  I sighed. "Turn around please, Quin, or Sylvia will faint."

  He ignored my request and crouched before me. "Show me."

  "It's just some minor grazes."

  He gently lifted my skirts, making Sylvia gasp with horror and me hold my breath.

  "You ought not to do this," she warned him. "It's indecent."

  "He's not doing me any harm," I told her. Although my heart was in great danger of punching a hole through my chest, it beat so hard.

  "But he can see your ankles and legs!"

  "I'm sure he's seen ankles and legs before."

  She gave a little whimper but thankfully stopped protesting when she realized it would do no good. Quin's knuckles grazed the side of my calf as he pushed the skirt and petticoats to my knees. He muttered something under his breath at the sight of the bloody grazes.

  "Your stockings are ruined," Sylvia said matter of factly. "What happened?"

  "I tripped."

  "And you didn't catch her, Quin?"

  He shifted his weight and cupped my calves with his big hands. My nerves jumped and my heart leapt into my throat. I didn't dare look at Sylvia. She must be on the verge of apoplexy.

  "Take these off," he said, gently, plucking my stockings.

  "Only if you turn your back." Sylvia's best governess voice had him dutifully obeying just as a knock sounded.

  "It's me," came Tommy's voice.

  Quin opened the door and let him in. Tommy took one look at me with my skirts bunched up above my knees and blushed. He quickly turned to Quin and shoved the suit at him.

  "Behind the screen," he ordered the bigger man.

  Quin did as he was told.

  "Tommy, fetch a bowl of water and a cloth, please," Sylvia said, inspecting the grazes. "They don't appear too bad. A little cleaning up will do the trick."

  I removed my boots and stockings while we waited for Tommy to return. A rustling of fabric came from behind the screen and a shirt was tossed over the top. A grunt of frustration soon followed.

  "Are you having difficulty?" I asked Quin.

  "This jerkin is not comfortable."

  "It's a waistcoat."

  "Just wait until he puts on the jacket and tie," Sylvia muttered. "He's going to hate it."

  I grinned. "Thank you for not telling Emily and Jacob that I saw Nathaniel at the station. They would only have asked questions I don't have answers to."

  "Why do you think he snubbed you if you were such good friends? Did he explain himself today?"

  "He said he was too intent on his thoughts and didn't see me."

  "Do you believe him?"

  I sighed. "I don't know. I want to."

  A smile slowly spread over her face. "You like him, don't you?"

  "I don't know," I said in all seriousness. "I thought I did on the ship, but after seeing him again today…" I shrugged, unable to express what I felt anymore. I was still a little bruised that he hadn't noticed me at the station, but it was more than that and I couldn't put my finger on the reasons for my doubts.

  "Damnation," growled Quin from behind the screen. "Why does a society that invents machines to make some things simpler have such a complicated piece of clothing to make dressing more difficult?" A balled up tie shot out from behind the screen and smacked into the side of the dressing table.

  I pressed my lips together to stop myself laughing.

  "Would you like help?" Sylvia asked.

  "Aye," he muttered, sounding utterly defeated.

  "Then wait for Tommy."

  "Come here, Quin," I said. "I'll help you."

  "You will not!" Sylvia thrust her hands onto her hips. "You aren't wearing any stockings!"

  "He can't see my legs once I'm standing." I stood to prove my point.

  "Your toes are visible."

  I ignored her and picked up Quin's tie. He emerged from behind the screen wearing the new suit minus the jacket. "You look very dashing," I told him. He did, although I preferred him in his leather pants and just the shirt. Or, even better, without it.

  "I give up," Sylvia muttered, plopping down on the bed. "Clearly living in the colonies is not a place to raise young ladies."

  I ignored her slight against my home and slipped the tie around Quin's neck. "I used to help my little nephew dress for church on Sundays." I concentrated on my task and not on the fact that my fingers were brushing Quin's throat. "He hated wearing them too."

  He lifted his chin to give me better access. "It's barbaric to force children to wear something that resembles a noose."

  I grinned. "I feel as if I must apologize on behalf of all modern society. You will get used to it."

  "Never."

  "There," I said, tucking the tie behind his waistcoat and straightening it. I placed my palm flat against his chest. His heart beat steadily through the layers of clothing. "You look very handsome."

  He looked down at me through half-closed, smoky eyes. "Thank you, Cara."

  Tommy re-entered without knocking, took one look at me and gasped. "Cara!"

  "I tried to stop her," Sylvia said, throwing up her hands in surrender. "But she insisted. She's very willful."

  I retrieved the bowl of water and cloth from Tommy and sat on the bed again. Both men turned their backs to give us privacy and I lifted my skirts. Sylvia cleaned my knees a little too roughly. When she pressed hard against the bruise that had formed on my left one, I sucked air between my teeth.

  "It serves you right," she said with a tilt of her chin.

  I wasn't sure what that meant and didn't ask. I suspected she would only bring up my immorality again.

  "Tell me about your meeting with the Myers'," Tommy said.

  Once again I went through the events of the morning.

  "Is Myer going to join you in the library?" he asked when we finished.

  "He says not."

  "Good. That saves Gladstone from having to join you. He and Charity need some peace and quiet after everything they've been through."

  "They do," Sylvia agreed quietly. She finished cleaning my knees and handed me a fresh pair of stockings.

  "What do you know about Myer's hypnosis, St. Clair?" Tommy asked. "We know that Gladstone's mother was exposed to the portal's power when she was with child. Do you think the same thing happened to Myer's mother?"

  "It's possible," Quin said. "I was summoned to that portal in a time when she may have been present."

  "Wait," I said. "You've been summoned since Tudor times? I thought that was your last visit to this realm."

  "That was the last time I battled many demons at once at Frakingham Abbey. The last time I came through that portal was perhaps not too long ago. Time means little to me, but the clothing of the people who summoned me was somewhat similar to yours. She may have been there."

  "Good lord." I pulled on my stockings, careful not to put holes in the delicate silk. "That explains the mystery of Myer's hypnosis then. At least we now know."

  Tommy nodded. "I wonder if he does."

  ***

  Sylvia didn't snore or kick me that night, but I still couldn't fall asleep. One of the men tossed and turned on the other side of the screen, rustling the covers. I got up and peeked around the corner. Quin lay on his back, his hands behind hi
s head, the blankets crumpled around his waist. He sat up upon seeing me.

  "You can't sleep?" I whispered.

  "No."

  "Why not?"

  He shrugged and I was momentarily distracted by the movement of his shoulders. I wished there was more light to see him by. I rather liked the way his muscles moved beneath his skin.

  "Come on, out with it," I said. "Something must be bothering you. Is it the tie?"

  He smiled. "I despise the tie, but the thought of wearing it again doesn't keep me awake at night."

  I smiled too and sat on the end of his bed. My hip nudged his feet, but he didn't pull away. His swallow and my hitched breath sounded loud in the silent room.

  "What does keep you awake?" I didn't dare think what his answer would be. Didn't dare hope that it might be me. Because what should we do about it? There was nothing to do.

  "The connection between Myer and Harrington."

  I blinked slowly, stupidly. "Pardon?"

  "We only have Myer's word that he was not involved in Harrington's possession of Clement. I don't think his word can be trusted."

  "Oh. Of course." I shook my head. I was such a fool for thinking he could possibly be in turmoil over my presence. "I don't think he can be trusted either, but there's nothing we can do about that. We can't just go through his things in search of a more tangible link."

  "You can't."

  My mouth flopped open. "You cannot be thinking about sneaking into his house?"

  "Why not?"

  "It's illegal, for one thing. You would be thrown in prison if you were caught."

  "Prison would not be so bad. In my time, a thief would have his hand cut off, or his head."

  I grimaced. "The upshot is the same. If you went to prison, we would be separated." And I would succumb to the fever and die.

  He nodded slowly, his mouth turned down. "If it were not for that, I would attempt it."

  "Why? You're here to find the book and cure me, not chase after ghosts that have crossed over."

  "The medium who summoned Harrington's spirit into Clement's body must be stopped before she does it again. If Myer knows who that medium is, we must force him to tell us. I can have her punished."

  "Or we could just talk to her and explain the danger. She may have done it quite innocently."

  "As you did, some years ago?"

  My face heated. Thankfully it was too dark for him to see. "You know about that?"

  "Aye. After you became ill and I decided to cure you, I checked on your moral character. That was the only black mark against your name, and your youth and ignorance were noted."

  Black mark? Noted? "Quin, where did you get this information from?"

  He paused before answering, "My realm."

  "And does every human have this sort of ledger against their name in your realm?"

  "It's not for me to say."

  Good lord. How extraordinary, and worrying too. I felt utterly exposed; worse, even, than if I'd been standing before him naked. "What else do you know about me?"

  "That's all, Cara, I promise."

  I hugged my drawn up knees and rested my chin on them. I wasn't sure I liked him knowing what I'd done when I was ten. I may have been young, but it was a mistake that had almost cost lives. I still felt cold when I thought about it.

  He shifted down the bed and rested his hand on my arm. It was warm through my nightgown and reassuring. "I shouldn't have told you. My apologies."

  "It's all right. I just wish I knew as much about you as you do about me."

  He let me go and shifted back.

  "You're a mystery, Quin. You can be so kind and good, and yet you suggest something like breaking into Myer's house."

  "I told you, you should not trust me entirely," he said with a bitter twist in his voice. "I haven't always been of good character."

  "I can't believe that. Not only are you here saving the life of someone you've never met before, but you want to learn more about an evil spirit and the medium who helped him when the matter has nothing to do with you. That sounds like someone of very high moral fiber."

  "Enough, Cara. I don't deserve your gratitude. I am no angel."

  He didn't deserve it? What an odd thing to say. Of course he did.

  I stood. "Come on. Let's go and see what we can find in Myer's house."

  "No. You were right. It's too dangerous. Go back to bed."

  "I'm far too restless to sleep."

  I tiptoed around the room and gathered up my gown. I tried to put it on as quietly as possible over my head, but Sylvia stirred. She rolled onto her side, mumbled something, then fell silent again. I continued dressing.

  "Cara, no," Quin whispered from his bed. "What if Myer discovers us? He'll notify the authorities."

  "We'll just have to convince him not to."

  "How?"

  "By telling him we'll ask Langley to give him have access to the ruins again."

  Quin looked to the ceiling. "Dieu. You are stubborn and maddening. The worst traits in a woman."

  "In anyone," I agreed, doing up the buttons down the front of my gown. It was liberating not to put on a corset or worry about stockings. "But it can't be helped. I've made up my mind. Come on, what are you waiting for?"

  "For you to turn your back."

  "Why?"

  "What do you think I wear to bed?"

  It took a moment for his meaning to register. "Oh!" My face may have felt hot before, but now it was positively on fire. I turned around and listened to him quietly dressing. I resisted the urge to peek over my shoulder and see his naked form. Just.

  "Ready?" he said after a few moments.

  I turned to see him wearing his leather pants and a shirt, his boots in hand. I picked up my boots and coat, and together we crept out of the bedroom. Neither of us spoke until we were safely outside on the street. It was utterly quiet. Not even a breath of wind disturbed the thick smoky air. Overhead, the streetlights glowed like suspended orbs in the night sky. There was no knowing where the moon could be positioned behind London's haze.

  I threw on my coat, glad that I'd remembered it. "Are you cold?" I asked Quin.

  "No."

  We set off, and when I stumbled in the dark, he took my hand. His fingers closed around mine, an anchor in an uncertain sea. It was strange to be walking through London at night. At first it felt otherworldly, with the dense silences, but once we hit Piccadilly, I heard the familiar rumble of coach wheels and laughter of rakes and their doxies as they were driven to the next gambling den or party. Quin's head jerked at every sound, his entire body tense and alert. We may have been in the most exclusive square mile of London, but that didn't mean thieves weren't lurking in dark corners, waiting for an easy target.

  We should not have come out. I was about to tell Quin that we should return home when we rounded the corner into Berkeley Square. The twinge of anxiety in my chest grew to a hammer blow. What we were about to do was madness. My heart raced faster the closer we drew to Myer's house. We stopped at the front steps and looked up at its towering stuccoed edifice and imperial arched windows. The task ahead of us seemed as insurmountable as the Dover cliffs.

  I took a breath to speak, but Quin's hand clamped over my mouth. "Quiet," he whispered in my ear.

  Then I heard it too. Footsteps echoed in the dark, somewhere beyond the veil of fog. And they were coming our way.

  I froze, but Quin did not. He swung me around, hiding me from view. "Put your arms around me," he whispered.

  I did, and was just registering how wonderful the strips of muscle felt as they flexed beneath my hands when he kissed me.

  CHAPTER 8

  I never expected my first real kiss to be in the middle of the night in a foggy Mayfair street. Then again, I hadn't expected my first kiss to be with an otherworldly warrior. Nor could I have anticipated that it would turn my bones to jelly.

  His mouth didn't move at first, as I suspected his mind was on the footsteps, but after a moment, something changed
. His lips explored mine, gentle yet insistent. His arms tightened around me and I responded by digging my hands into his hair and holding his head in place. It was scandalous, but I didn't care. I just wanted him to keep kissing me. The thrill of it was like nothing I'd ever felt before. I was weightless in his arms, and not quite there, or anywhere. It was as if his presence, his kiss, filled me up and left no room for sensible thoughts. There was only his mouth, his arms, his body, and the excess of sensations swamping me, from the tingles sweeping along my skin to the feeling that nothing would ever compare to this.

  Behind him, someone clicked their tongue. Quin went still. His grip tightened and he broke the kiss, but did not look around.

  "Do that in the park, not outside my house. Go on!" The voice belonged to Mrs. Myer.

  I glanced up at Quin. His eyes glittered in his shadowed face. He flipped up the collar of my coat and tucked me against his body, shielding me from Mrs. Myer. Dipping his head, he marched me across the street and into the park.

  I sagged against the rough bark of a plane tree and let out a breath. "That was close."

  Quin positioned himself so that his body shielded me from the street. He peeped around the trunk. "She went inside." He leaned back against the bark next to me. "I should not have done that. My apologies, Cara. How do you say it?"

  "Sorry," I mumbled.

  "Aye. Sorry."

  But I was not sorry. I was glad that he'd been the first man to kiss me. How could I not be when it made me feel so good? "There was no alternative. She would have seen us if we hadn't, er, taken action."

  "I admit that it was the first idea that came to me."

  I smiled. I rather liked hearing that. "We should go home. This was a foolish idea."

  He took my hand again and we headed out of the park. I glanced back at the Myers' house before we turned the corner. "I wonder where she'd been at this time of night." For a recluse, she was out rather late. And on foot too—very odd.

  Fortunately we were not accosted by cutthroats on the way home and did not lose our way in the fog. Once we reached the front steps of Emily's house, Quin let go of my hand. He looked up at the front door.